I can feel her amusement at my assessment, the quiet way my surly action pleased her, and I push at her again, a demand to be sure she survives this night without more horrors to carry on her heavily burdened shoulders.
Tell me how you think we should fix the kingdom, croí. You said the witches have suffered under the Celestial rule—tell me how, and what changes should be made. The more complicated, the better.
Shock floods our mind connection, but it’s no use feeling frustrated or angry that she wasn’t expecting me to care about the witches, should they ever return to the Southern Lands. My father ignored them, as did my grandfather before him, and every other Celestial king for countless generations. Her desires are simple—to restore the kingdom and aid all those within.
Slowly at first, then with that reverence that fuels her endlessly, Rooke explains the rites and rituals that once sustained the magic of the Southern Lands, the agreement of the First Fae to uphold their duties, and where the high fae have abandoned those duties. She describes the chasm we’ve wrought within the earth, the way it screams in pain at our feet, and how that pain had fractured the covens of this kingdom and made way for Kharl Blazog’s seduction to take root. As the hours pass, I’m enraptured by her vast knowledge and question her rigorously, enjoying the way she meets every challenge with humble confidence.
As the sun begins to rise, Rooke sends me an image of it through her window, a queasy feeling in her gut at the reminder of how high we are, and she finds my command to sit back down immediately highly amusing. When the high fae begin to rouse around me, Rooke sighs and sends through her feelings of reluctant acceptance, saying that she needs to shut off the connection to prepare for the day ahead.
I’m attending a high tea with Sari and some of her friends. I’ll be working on getting us out of here, Soren, but don’t worry about me for now. I’ll come to you the moment I can.
I let out a breath but, before I can warn Rooke of my cousin’s childish temperament, she continues,The regent is playing anintricate game, sure of the board, but he’s oblivious to half the pieces on it. He’s quite sure that he alone holds power while the rest of us are merely pawns. I’ve sent word to the Northern Lands—your cousin will be safe within the High Commander’s household, and her father will learn the power he plays with isn’t so easily seduced.
It’s difficult not to let my reaction to her words show on my face or overwhelm our connection, but she’s so guarded about her time in the Sol Army that I know very little, only tiny scraps of information that drive me mad.You know the male?
Her mind empties out, all the warmth of our evening together dissipating as though smothered in ice, and I’m instantly furious at its loss. Her reply is detached, a monotone delivery as though the mere mention of him is enough to thrust her back into the nightmares that haunt her.
I once lived within that household. It’s the one I left to return here for our fate.
It hits me like a bolt of lightning from the Fates themselves, rending my soul in two and fracturing every idea I’ve ever had about my witch-mate.
Torn in half.
My eyes fly open, my chest locking on instinct to trap the gasp that threatens to tear free. There are hundreds of high fae within the dungeons, their keen hearing no doubt taking note of every skip of my heartbeat, and I’ve betrayed my Fates-blessed mate enough with my callous treatment of her. No matter how thoroughly I’ve been rocked by her admission, I cannot blow this iron cage to pieces. I can’t hunt her down, killing every guard and treacherous fae who crosses my path, just to search her body for evidence to confirm I’m right, no matter how desperately I need it.
The High Commander of the Sol Army lead the battalion known as the ten-twenty-one, the fae who have come to beknown as the soldiers of the last stand. While the Seelie fae sought refuge within the Golden Palace, a single battalion rode out to defend the castle against last of the Ureen, prevailing against all odds though the toll was horrific. Of the full battalion who rode out, only six soldiers survived the final battle, each of them gravely wounded.
Only fae who could cast theunmakingserved under the High Commander.
It’s a concerning insight to the terror tucked within her mind that Rooke doesn’t feel anything through the connection, or maybe she doesn’t register it, but she’s silent and immovable while I collect my wits. I need to get her out of here, and quickly. By the Fates’ fickle mercies alone, Rooke has already stumbled upon Gage’s mate and begun her rescue from the regent.
I’m relieved, croí, and grateful you’ve offered aid to Sari. I suspect Prince Gage’s mate is Malia, Sari’s half-sister who serves as her handmaiden, and so long as they’re traveling together, their safety is assured. Now we must focus on getting out of Yris—time may be working against us, but the Fates are on our side.
A ripple runs through her mind, my words pulling her out of her blank state.The regent plans on killing you before the solstice. Whatever his plans are for completing our fates, he’s moving swiftly and we only have a manner of days.
How she discovered that, I can’t guess, but I push my reassurance through to her as my eyes squeeze shut.We’ll be long gone by then, croí. On our shared fate, I swear it to you.
If Malia’s life is no longer in imminent danger, then my time of sitting quietly in this cell is over and I have a dozen options to get out of this cursed castle, requiring only a plan and my Fates-blessed mate to follow my directions.
Rooke is silent, and the warmth slowly returns to our connection as she thaws from the cold grips of her mind. As openas we are to each other now, I feel the range of emotions she experiences as she works through something. When her reply finally comes, it’s hesitant.
What will the regent do to the high fae in the cells if we leave them behind?
My eyes open, and I find the guards staring at me as they did the entire night.They’ll slowly rot and die down here. The regent has no intention of letting any of them out. He doesn't care about the Unseelie Court and the laws anymore, he cares only for satisfying our fate just far enough that he can keep the throne.
She pauses, then she asks cautiously,Is there enough room at Yregar for them all, if we can somehow free them?
Not a single one of these high-fae royals and nobles have given a Fates-filled fuck about witches, or the fae folk outside of their own households. After a night of listening to all the ways the high fae have failed the kingdom, I have to take a deep breath before I can speak to her the way she deserves.
None of them deserve such an honor.
She lets out a wry chuckle.I'm not sure any of them will find enduring a witch’s company an honor.
In a dark tone, I send back to her,The honor is your consideration—your company is out of the question, and any who request it will meet a violent end.
The momentone of Sari’s attendants comes to escort her to the garden tea party, Rooke closes the connection between our minds. Despite her reassuring me that she’ll contact me if anything happens, I’m on edge the moment the mental wallslides into place, and the Fates writhe in my chest in what feels like protest at our separation. With every heartbeat, my agitation grows, until finally Gage catches my attention, stretching out what little the cage allows.
As he flexes his fingers, he murmurs in the goblin tongue, but I catch only part of his meaning. “The Fates weave before us… we’re not spending another night here.”
