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Pen’s lips purse with annoyance. “I doubt Bailey will file charges for obstruction of justice. He’d have to detailhowyou obstructed justice, and withholding a child sacrifice won’t look good on paper for them.”
“You’re right.” The same thought had occurred to me while I sat in here alone. “They might get me on the destruction of public property, though. I went off book in my search for the bone pit.”
“A slap on the wrist and a fine at worst.” Pen waves that away. “Our lawyer will get us out of this mess. She’s the best there is on the demon plane.”
“It’s nice to have a dad who’s royalty.” Marc’s hands drop away. “How’s that feel?”
I test my shoulder by moving it. “A lot better. Thank you.”
“You should really be wearing a sling,” Pen says, anI told you soin her tone.
“My shoulder is resting plenty while down here.” I pace the confines of our jail cell, worry gnawing at my insides. “How fast can your lawyer get us out? We have no idea what’s happening up the—”
I cut off as a tremor ripples through the ground beneath us. The walls of our cell groan, and a fine layer of gray dust drifts over us from above.
Marc peers up at the ceiling. “Looks like the Bone Man is on the move.”
“We don’t have time to wait for a lawyer.” Fear tightens my chest. “We’re running out of time.”
Frustration boils within me, and I clench my fists around the bars as I try to channel my fae magic. I know what I can do in theory, but when I reach for that dark slither inside, it slips my grasp. I reach for it again and will the bars to vanish, but they remain stubbornly in place.
“Why isn’t this working?” I hiss through gritted teeth, my frustration mounting.
I close my eyes and try again. The first time I accessed my power, I was angry, and enough rage boils inside me now that this should be easy. But try as I might, the bars remain unmoved.
Frustration surges through me, and I clench my teeth, blood pounding in my temples as I try to force the magic to obey me, but nothing happens.
“Dammit!” I kick the bars in frustration. “Why won’t it work?”
The sound of my shout echoes down the empty prison corridor and fades until only my heavy breaths fill the air.
Pen and Marc exchange worried glances, and Pen breaks the silence. “Sharpe, did you just try to use your fae magic?”
I scrub a hand through my hair. “Yes.”
Their expressions shift from worry to surprise.
“When did it start coming back?” Marc asks.
“Just recently.” I drop my hand to my pocket, feeling the bottle of antacids there. They hadn’t searched me before marching me down here, not that there was anything to take. I was caught off guard. “It’s limited to moving small objects from my hand to my pocket.”
Smiles spread over their faces, and they step forward to embrace me.
“That’s wonderful news,” Pen says.
Marc squeezes me tightly. “Congratulations. That’s amazing.”
I can’t bring myself to share in their excitement. “It’s useless. What good is this magic if I can’t even use it to get us out of here?”
Pen pulls back to gaze up at me, happiness lighting her face despite our predicament. “It’s a start, which is all that matters. We’ll find a different way out of here.”
“It would be nice if I could just vanish the bars, though,” I mutter, my anger slipping away when confronted by her warmth.
She grips my arms and gives me a gentle shake. “Remember where we are, love. We designed the Ward to contain magical beings. Even at your full power, you wouldn’t be able to make those bars vanish. And even if we escape, the lockdown procedure for the Ward would kill us before we make it through the door at the end of the hall.”
A half-smile plays on Marc’s lips. “But if you want to try something bigger, I bet you could make the bench vanish.”
I shoot him a glare, still too annoyed to find humor in the comment.
