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11
BREE
Abird swooped past the open window. Bree locked the bedroom door and stuck her head out into the cool wind. Rafe soared through the moon-drenched skies, his black wings melting in with the shadows. She smiled up at him, her heart reaching out to his, the line connecting them stronger than ever.
He had been the first fae to show her kindness in this dark and dangerous place. She loved him. Fully and completely. Her heart was his. And she knew his heart was hers just as deeply.
“It’s safe,” she whispered.
He swooped into the open window and transformed back into his fae self. His clothes were nowhere to be seen, which was going to make this conversation a little difficult. His considerable length snagged her eyes.
“Surprisingly, there are only three guards,” he said in a voice so low that she could barely hear him. “Two outside of Taveon’s cell. One by the dungeon’s doors.” He pressed his lips together. “It doesn’t seem right. I don’t think you should do anything just yet.”
He made a move toward the window. Bree reached out a hand to pull him back. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t stay inside the castle, Bree,” he said, his jaw tensing. “Dagen will have people watching, waiting for any sign of me. They’ll check here.”
She closed her eyes. “I need you here with me.”
“I can’t be with you if I’m captured or dead.” He rubbed his thumb across her jaw. “I’ll be in the Forest of Fireflies. Not far at all. When it’s safe, I’ll come back.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Right now, it feels like it’s never going to be safe.”
Another set of footsteps echoed through the hall outside of Bree’s door. Rafe jerked his head in its direction. “I have to go. Be careful, Bree. Don’t do anything rash. I’ll look into things a bit more and report back tomorrow. All right?”
She nodded. A moment later, Rafe was gone.
The footsteps paused outside of her door, as if whoever it was stood listening on the other side of the smooth wood. One of Dagen’s spies, no doubt. Bree knew better than most how much he loved hidden listeners. He’d likely have them scattered through the castle with an order to watch her every move. She’d have to be careful.
For now, she would do what she could. She knelt to the floor and extracted the map from where she’d shoved it behind the desk. Spreading the rumpled parchment out in front of her, she scanned the hallways for an answer, hoping for arrows that could point her in the right direction.
One thing had become excruciatingly clear to her over the past few hours. Lord Dagen had to be stopped. Taveon needed to be rescued. And someone else had to step up and take charge of the armies. Bree just had no idea who that might be.
* * *
She awoke to the sound of knuckles rapping against her bedroom door. Groaning, she swept the damp hair out of her eyes and blinked out the window. The moon was high in the sky to signal the dawn of a new day. She’d fallen asleep with her arms wrapped around the castle map. It was now squished against her chest, wrinkled to hell.
The knuckles rapped louder.
“All right, all right, I’m up,” she muttered, sweeping her legs over the side of the bed.
A moment later, she opened the door to find Conlan, one of the council members, scowling in at her.
“What do you want?” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“Just checking you’re still in here and not hatching a coup.”
Bree glowered at him. “I’m surprised that you, of all people, would go through with Dagen’s plan. I thought you were loyal to Taveon.”
“Taveon is a demon,” he said, his voice laced with ice.
“So?” She arched a brow. “That doesn’t change anything about who he is.”
“You really think that? If there’s nothing wrong with the blood that runs through his veins, then why did he hide it?”
Bree huffed. “For one, he was worried you all would react…exactly how you’re reacting. It looks like those fears were well-founded.”
“His demon powers are dangerous,” Conlan countered. “He’s indestructible. Impossible to kill. And he can do things I doubt he’s ever shown you.”
