Millicent continues to watch me from the corner of her eye, but she keeps her lips pressed tight as if she’s holding her tongue.
It’s strange being around others after spending so much time in King Malachi’s court. Fae at the palace look down at me, like I’m beneath them. But Millicent eyes me with hope.
I can’t decide what’s worse. The pressures of succeeding are just as heavy as thoughts of failing lately.
“Here you go.” Greer hands me a set of leathers. “Unless you want to wear a dress to meet with the front line, I suggest you get changed.”
“We’re going to meet the Guard tonight?” My eyes widen.
“They’ll be gone before daybreak. Unless you’d rather stay here and sleep?—”
“No.” I grab the clothes from Greer’s hands. “I’ll get changed.”
I’m desperate to hear about Alyssium. Sleep can wait.
Greer stays with her aunt while I get changed. Since I’m shorter than Greer, her leathers don’t fit quite like mine back at the palace, but I make do. The laces at my breasts have to be tightened more than usual, and the bottoms hang below my ankles, so I scrunch them up. Securing my hair off my face with a braid, I finally meet Greer by the door.
We wave goodbye to Millicent, and she promises to have food ready for us when we return.
“Will the troops report to King Malachi that I was here?” I ask as Greer closes the door behind us.
“He already knows.”
“What do you mean he already knows?”
“The king knows all, Elorie. There’s no hiding this from him.”
“You made it sound like we’d get in trouble if he found out.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “We’ll get in trouble if anything happens to his precious chosen one. So let’s make sure it doesn’t. But there’s no hiding where you are when you’re bound to the king.”
“Right.”
The promise we made for the Rite. While the tie with Wilder is stronger, there is a tether to the king as well. One I sometimes forget about.
“You’ll be fine. Ruse Village is more of a warrior camp than a civilian village. You’re safe here. The rebels wouldn’t stand a chance against these forces. The king knows that.”
My chin dips with my nod, but there’s little enthusiasmbehind it. What was an escape—a hint of freedom—is another orchestrated lie. I’m not free from anything. Invisible threads tie me to the palace. To my responsibility.
To King Malachi.
To Wilder.
How many of my decisions are mine anymore? Or am I simply theirs?
“At least it’s not the courtyard.” Greer glances over at me, and I realize I’m still staring at the ground.
I look up to the forest—to the trees waning like the moon does. Not as full as I’d expect when the ones at the palace flourish.
“Is there something wrong with the forest here?” I ask, and Greer glances into the darkness.
“Besides the magic fading?”
“I didn’t realize it was already fading in the Ley Court. I thought that was only happening closer to the Well.”
Greer shakes her head. “It’s stronger by the Well, but it’s a sickness in the land. It spreads more each turn of the moon.”
“How much longer does Lyrichia have?”
