What’d Alyth call ’em? Red Cap weapons.
What the hell is a Red Cap?
The necklace dampened magic, Alyth said. The necklace hidme.
She said…she said I’m fae.
I thought actual fae—people or creatures—were long gone. That all that was left were their dangerous items. Cecil never said, and I just assumed, on account of never coming acrossfairiesor any other fae nonsense.
But fae are real?
They’re real. And they’re people too.
Alyth’s one. She was all wrapped up in those pulsing magic threads, vibrant with the color of it.
But I think I’d know if I were magic, wouldn’t I? Beyond my damned curse. Think I’d know if I had a mighty power tamped down in me, something I could’ve harnessed to protect myself.
My breathing kicks up, heart humming, it’s so fast, and I rub at my chest.
If I have some kind of magic… If I’ve had it all this time… Somepower, somestrength, and I let my mum die, and I let myself get cursed by a fae weapon—
I stagger out of the barn, cross behind it, find a spot hidden away, and drop to my knees. My head’s throbbing, empty stomach churning, and I just hold there on the ground, hands braced on my thighs, rocking a little.
Does Cecil know? IsCecilfae?
I manage a deep breath—forceone is more like—and scowl at my shadow on the winter-brown grass.
I still don’t know quite what Cecil wants to get out of me being here. But—
Darnley’ll know.
Alyth said he’s the one storing up fae weapons, not Mary. And it’s not for any plot against England, like Cecil said. I always suspected that reasoning was thin.
So I’ve got two options:
Go back to London and confront Cecil about all this. He won’t give me shit for answers, and I won’t have the fae weapon that cursed me. Can Cecil even break my curse if he has it? Would he? Was that a lie too?
Or I stay. And get close to Darnley, like Mary wanted. Only I’ll get answers from the arsehole about what fae weapons he’s got and how he’s tied up with Cecil and whatever plan I’m a pawn in. Darnley’s cocky and arrogant, self-righteous and loud. He’ll spill secrets far easier than Cecil. Then I’ll have more leverage to use against my father when I go back to London.
But if I stay, Alyth’ll kill me.
If I go back to London, whatever life I have won’t be real living anyway. Just biding my days until I black out and hurt more people.
It ain’t even a choice.
I pry myself off the ground, dusting my knees, and head back to the stable where my stuff’s still piled by the wall. Callum gives me a confused look, wondering why I spent most of the morning just standing here, but I wave him away with a bright smile. It aches across my cheeks.
Callum’s eyes flick past me just as I hear footsteps and voices coming, and his face pales. A blink, and he’s vanished, so I know who it is before I turn.
Ah, think of the devil, and he appears.
I shoulder my bags and face Darnley, ringed by half a dozen men and servants. They’re all outfitted for hunting. Didn’t he just go yesterday? How’s it not mind-numbing to go again?
Darnley sees me and gives a sly but very obvious grin. “Ah—Samuel, was it?”
“Samson, sir,” I say, all proper, bowing my head.
I’m staying. I’m going to get answers from this bastard. So I’m playing this part fully, throwing everything I’ve got into it.
