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“What were the rebels after?” I asked, ignoring the roiling in my stomach.
Iola shook her head and glanced up at the ceiling. I followed her gaze, and we both listened to the sound of pounding footsteps, like hundreds of running men and women in steel boots. The palace soldiers didn’t wear steel armor; it was all made of other materials: bone, leather, obsidian. Even the humans didn’t wear any metal out of respect for the Fae commanders.
“I don’t know,” Iola said. “I thought they wanted to findyou, only everyone knows you’d left with Prince Scion and Lord Bael.”
“Just Scion,” I corrected her.
She looked confused. “But you were all gone.”
I didn’t waste time explaining where Bael was, immediately filling in for myself that no one realized Bael was still in the castle. In truth, it didn’t matter that he was if he couldn’t help them.
They’d been ambushed at exactly the right time, when Bael was unable to help and Scion was away from the capital. Most of the royals left in the castle had passive magic—like Gwydion’s healing and Lady Raewyn’s sight. Who did that leave to defend them?
“Perhaps the rest of the Everlasts were the target,” I said dully. “Or the castle itself.”
I was surprised to find I cared. Perhaps not for all of them, but I did not precisely wish to see Lord Gwydion killed, nor Lady Thalia or Lady Aine. Princess Elfwyn was only nine years old…surely no one would storm the castle to murder a child, fairy or not.
I shook my head, shocked at the direction of my own thoughts.
What was I thinking? Of course the rebellion would not care that Elfwyn was a child. They would kill all the Everlasts, if given the chance, and view little Elfwyn as an easier target due to her age, not someone to be spared. Until recently, I would have agreed with that. Cheered for her death like anyone else. When had that changed?
Iola did not respond, and when I looked, she was clutching a stitch on her side, her walking slowed to barely more than a shuffle. Anxiety rose in my throat.
It was quite a large castle, and I’d already deduced that the fire likely started one floor above us, somewhere near the entrance hall or the throne room. If it had already spread all the way up to one of the towers, that was certainly alarming, but Iola and I were separated from the worst of it by several tons of obsidian and long expanses of winding corridors. We were not yet in so much danger that we needed to sprint for safety, but the air was growing quite warm, the smell wafting in from grates and cracks between bricks getting stronger the longer we delayed.
“Are you well?” I asked. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing, my lady,” she said between breaths. “It’s been this way since…well, you know.”
I recoiled. “I thought Lord Gwydion healed you.”
“Well, I am still alive,” she said, somewhat dispassionately.
I furrowed my brow. That didn’t seem right, especially for an Everlast. Given the way the others’ magic seemed to work… I slowed my walk to stay in step with Iola, even as my skin crawled and every one of my muscles screamed at me to move faster. I could have danced in place for all the pent-up energy coursing through me. “May I at least help you?”
She began to protest and gave up, slinging an arm over my shoulder, which did speed things up a bit.
My mind reeled as we made our way toward the door, with me half supporting, half dragging Iola along. “You never did discover what caused the poisoning?”
She shook her head, and I wondered if words were becoming more difficult. “I was already ill that evening.” She gave a weak smile. “Sometimes I believe things just happen as they are meant to, and perhaps I was not meant to survive.”
“Iola, that’s not—” Shock made the words die in my throat. “By the Source!”
She looked at me, alarmed, then to the door ahead of us, seeming to fear that I’d seen something blocking our path. “What is it?”
I did not stop walking, though I wanted to sink to the floor. “You were ill. Iola, oh my gods—” My voice broke. “This is my fault. I’m so,sosorry.”
There was no way to say you were sorry for nearly killing someone. For making their life a daily hell. What could I possibly do now?
Her eyes widened in mingled alarm and confusion. “I don’t understand. You didn’t poison me?”
“I told you to drink moondust tea. I didn’t know it was poisonous.”
It had just come together in my mind, spurred on by seeing Iola. Scion had mentioned it the other day, when we were discussing how that horrible lust drug was made. Moondust trees were poisonous.
I reeled, waves of shock crashing over me.
Not only had I poisoned my friend by accident, but this meant that certainly Rosey had lied about her tea. Why, though? Why would she need to visit those trees so often? It certainly couldn’t have been just to hide the journals for me to find.
