“I knew it would work.” She swallowed hard. “Now, just two more times. The charm needs to be used on three consecutive days to make it true.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ursula looked into the projection, pursing her lips. “Thrice said. And it is done. I got it.”
Emmaline’s neck prickled with unease, remembering the strange voice saying those same words after she’d broken the bond with Deyric.
“Great. Time to get out of here.” Ursula turned as she stepped lightly back toward the path, but before she could clear the bushes, something shifted in the air.
It was a distant hum.
Emmaline clenched the edge of her desk as the sound grew louder, the speak-easy’s projection bucked with movement. A glider, sleek and dark, coasted into view like a shadow slipping across the ground.
Ursula dove, disappearing into the tangled undergrowth.
Emmaline barely breathed, eyes locked on the grainy projection, pulse roaring in her ears. Ursula’s feed wobbled, settling just enough to give a narrow view through the brambles as the glider rolled to a stop near the statue.
“Are you okay?” Emmaline whispered.
“Shh.” Ursula crackled through the transmission. “I’m fine. Just some toad of a driver dropping off a glider for the day.”
Toad.
Emmaline's veins turned to ice. Her throat felt tight as she pressed her lips together, forcing her voice to stay even. “What's he look like?”
“I don’t know,” Ursula muttered, shifting for a better look. “Your usual sniveling lackey type—round-faced, sweating like a stuck boar with skin like curdled milk.” She paused, then added with distaste, “Reminds me of a Corrach, honestly.”
Emmaline’s grip on the desk tightened, a hot pulse of magic flickering to life in her palm. A Corrach was a hunched, pale, rat-like fae that lurked in the underbellies of old courts, always creeping in the shadows of their masters, whispering in ears, clinging to power like leeches. Her attention locked on the speak-easy’s projection. The ball of light trembled in her hand, a burning echo of the fury boiling deep in her gut.
“He was there.” The words barely made it past her throat. “When Caelith—”
“Say no more.” Ursula’s voice was flat, final.
And that was all. But Emmaline knew what it meant. Caelith was about to be down a driver.
A slow, satisfied grin curved her lips. “Good.”
Three more days. Emmaline exhaled slowly, steadying her breath. Three more days, and it would be done.
She had spent the rest of the day holed up in her office, keeping her head down, her presence barely more than a shadow. She hadn’t even left for lunch. The thought of stepping into the servant’s dining hall, making small talk with vendors and artisans bustling through the castle in their frantic preparations for the Solstice Ball—it made her skin feel too tight, like the world was pressing in on her from all sides.
The ache in her body had dulled to something distant, but the phantom grip of unwelcome hands still lingered. She just had to make it home now.Home.
The thought alone loosened something inside her, tension easing ever so slightly at the promise of hot chamomile tea steeped with crushed starpetal and honeythorn. It was the way her mother used to make it. After that, she’d sleep. And if the nightmares came again? There was always the ratgut Cassidy couldn’t stomach, burning away the edges of her thoughts until they blurred into something bearable.
She pushed to her feet, shaking off the dread pressing down on her shoulders. Tomorrow, she’d call in sick. Isolde would throw a fit, but everything for the Ball was already in place. The woman would hopefully be too busy preening and terrorizing some poor seamstress or florist to waste time looking for Emmaline.
Moving quickly through the dim corridors, her steps were light and purposeful. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact and slipping past open doorways before anyone could glance up and rope her into conversation. The usual hum of castle life surrounded her—servants rushing about, courtiers murmuring in alcoves—but no one stopped her for once. No questions. No pointless gossip. Just a straight shot to the door.
Relief coiled through her as her fingers found the final door handle. Almost out. Just a few more seconds and—
“There you are!”
Her teeth clicked together, shoulders bunching before she forced them down.You can do this. The words rang in her skull as she turned.
Caelith strode toward her, moving with that effortless grace he liked to think was charming.
Her stomach clenched.
Just smile. “I’m surprised to see you in the servants’ corridors, my Lord.”
