Page 60

Chapter 60

Kat

My glamour, as I discover when I pass a window reflection, is not at all what I expect.

I look like I’ve been stretched out—I am about six inches taller, and my weight has not shifted to accommodate that. I am as thin as a reed, with arms the size of twigs, and a neck so long that if flexibility allowed, I could tie it in a knot. My gown, if it can even be called that, is a puffy array of gauzy black fabric draped and fastened at my shoulder and my hip, leaving one arm and one leg mostly bare. My glass slippers, thankfully, are hidden by the glamour, so it appears I wear a dainty pair of black vines that curl between my toes and up my ankles.

My face is long and angular, my skin a smooth, pale sheen unmarred by freckles or scars. My eyes are completely unrecognizable as a startling, catlike violet. I touch my hair briefly, which is a sleek, electric blue.

Well, one thing is for certain: there is not a chance I will be recognized.

It takes some finagling to unsuspiciously slip into the throng of fae proceeding deeper into the Nothril palace. The ground tilts downward, the cavern swallowing us whole. I try to keep my gaze focused forward to not look at those around me—wearing outfits as wild and black as mine—lest my eyes betray my trepidation. I place each step carefully for fear that my bumbling awkwardness will give me away as not belonging to the majestic, gliding fae surrounding me.

At last, our silent procession reaches a part of the cave that flattens and opens, revealing a great and terrible cavern by the black river. I am pulled along by the currents of the throng toward that river. As I watch, the fae before me kneel beside the water and mix it with soot to paint designs across their faces.

I do the same, stealing a covert glance at the gentle wave most fae draw on their foreheads. I copy them and then, to my relief, the fae begin dispersing across the shoreline. Tables of polished ebony have been erected, laden with abundant arrays of strange, colorful foods and tall glasses of drink.

Low horns blast through the cavern. I whip my head toward the entrance, away from the ripples the sound casts across the water.

The Nothril family has arrived.

Two princesses enter first. One is tall, with dark hair, her mouth twisted at a haughty angle. The other is much younger and shorter, her silver hair a match to Rahk’s, her pink cheeks standing out like roses in this cave. Both wear gowns of deep blue—a contrast to all the black of the court. I watch the younger one—Pavi—and desperately wish she would separate herself from the group so I can reach her. She doesn’t.

My heart catches when Rahk appears next. He wears a crown of stone, his tall, broad frame filling the entrance of the cavern. His face is carved as though from polished marble. Cold, unreadable, and harsh. It does not look like him at all. Instinctively, I withdraw a step, finding refuge in a slight overhang of stalactites. A drop of water lands on my bare shoulder, making me shiver.

He cannot see you. Remember the glamours you wear.

The low horns blast again.

This time, it is Lord and Lady Nothril who come through the entrance. My mouth goes dry. I thought Rahk was tall—but these two must both be over seven feet tall. They wear trailing robes of silver like stars, crowns of obsidian so towering they could brush the ceiling, and their beauty is incomparable.

They glide as one toward two great black thrones on a dais, allowing them full view of the celebration. Everyone falls to their knees as they walk past. I desperately want to keep my spine straight, stupid as it is, but I bow like everyone else.

“Rise.” Lady Nothril’s voice rings across the throng. “Eat, drink, and see what mysteries Mirror Tide will reveal to you.”

That is the signal for the festivities to start. The deathlike silence becomes a steady hum of conversation, laughter, and arguments. The feasting and drinking begin. I pretend to be occupied with a silver goblet of saints-knows-what and hang back in my little nook. Fae pass me. Some give me strange looks, and I give them my best Nothril smirk.

I watch from my spot as Rahk approaches the river. Everyone pulls away, clearing the bank for him. I expect Pelarusa and Pavi to follow him, but they do not. Is it because Rahk is the heir?

He kneels on one knee at the bank. He takes his thumb and swirls it in the dark river before smearing it across his forehead in a fat line that drips onto his brow. Then he moves to the far wall of the celebration, leaning against it, with arms crossed over his chest and one knee bent. I follow his every movement, trying to read his thoughts beneath the coldness of his expression. I find nothing.

Except—the woman I am trying to reach brings a tray of delicacies to him. She keeps her head bowed, her hair bound up in a modest bun. My heart quickens. I must make it over to her. But to approach her is to approach Rahk.

I drag in a deep breath. There’s nothing to it. He cannot see through my disguise. And I’ve got to get word to this woman of the plan.

I set down my goblet and get up. I have no idea if my effort to appear lazy and meandering works, but I manage to dodge the rowdiest groups of fae and make it to the servant’s vicinity. Which is also Rahk’s vicinity.

I sit down nearby and wait, counting the seconds. Then I lift my hand and say imperiously, “Slave! Give me one of those things immediately!”

She comes. Her head remains bowed, her eyes on the ground. She offers me the tray.

I sniff. “You think I shall sully my fingers to pick it up myself? Put it on the table for me.”

She doesn’t say a word, but hurries to obey. When she bends over to place the small flute of liquid beside me, I drop my voice to the barest whisper to avoid being overheard: “Get out of the palace as soon as you can. I’m freeing you tonight.”

She looks up, her eyes meeting mine for the first time. Something swims inside those irises— fear. I offer the only encouragement I can: the tiniest of smiles.

She leaves.

A hush falls upon the gathering. Lord and Lady Nothril have risen from their thrones, and now stride down to the river’s edge. She carries a large, shallow basin and stands on the bank. He swirls his fingers above the surface of the water before lifting them slowly. I watch in amazement as the water follows his fingers in a stream. He guides it into the basin and then releases it back into the river with a splash.

Lady Nothril lifts the full basin above her head. She closes her eyes, leaning back her head so her long, dark neck is exposed. She releases a string of incantations from full lips.

The contents of the basin begin to glow.

I should not be so enraptured, but I cannot tear my attention away as she lowers the bowl. The glow dissipates slowly. She carries the basin to a short, carved pillar. Then, as I watch, a black curtain seems to appear out of nowhere, surrounding the pillar and the bowl.

“See what mysteries of Mirror Tide reveal themselves to you,” calls Lady Nothril. Her voice echoes through the cavern. “If you possess the courage to do so.”

Immediately, several fae surge forward. The one who touches the curtain first steps inside, while the others draw back. He is gone for several minutes before he emerges again, his lips parted, a dazed look in his eye. The second goes after him.

My curiosity piqued, I sneak a glance at my pocket watch. I’ve got some time to spare. My target has already left the celebration, leaving only Pavi to contact. She gives no sign of leaving her mother’s side, so I need to kill what time I have left in hopes she will move.

I’ve got time to look into that pool.

I wait a few minutes, not wanting to be one of the first to go, but the watch ticking in my pocket propels me forward faster than I am comfortable. I try not to seem hesitant as I approach the black veil.

The cloth itself feels as fine as dust as I move it aside.

The bowl itself is smooth black, the water crystal clear with no sign of the earlier glow. I stare down into it, canting my head to one side when nothing appears but the reflection of my own glamoured face.

Cautiously, I reach out and dip one finger in the water. Ripples fan out in every direction.

Light flares.

I wince against the brightness as the scene clarifies. It is a family sitting around a humble fireplace. A mother with her three children. I don’t recognize any of them. Confused, I peer closer. The soothing timbre of the mother and the mischievous giggles of the young echo to meet me. Then a new figure enters the picture. A man in his thirties or forties. Something about him seems familiar though I cannot place him.

“Tell us again, Pa!” the children cry. The accents are from Aursailles. “Tell us the story of how you were saved from Faerieland!”

I go still with shock.

The father laughs, sitting down on the floor as his children begin climbing all over him. He looks very different from when I last saw him years ago, but now I can picture a young man from one of my first raids. “Again? I must have told you a hundred times!”

“Please!” the children cry at once.

The father lets out a sigh, a tiny grin breaking through his attempt at a serious face. “ Fine . Go get your masks!”

Squeals erupt from the children, who rush out of the picture, only to return a moment later with little masks just like my own affixed to their tiny faces.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away,” begins the father, just as the picture shifts. The next image is of a young woman with her hair pulled back, hard at work in a kitchen, offering a shy smile to a red-eared manservant as he balances a basket of potatoes on his shoulder. Elizabeth —the girl from my last Nothril raid. The image shifts to an elderly couple drinking tea on their front porch and watching the sunset. A couple I rescued from the Ildreer Court. It melts once more into a woman I recognize at once: the woman I left behind at the Star City. She bends over cloth, a needle in her hand, in what appears to be a very human shop.

“She got out?” I whisper, not believing my eyes. “How?”

The image changes to that very night, and I see the frightened woman on the edge of the Wood. I am not expecting to see Rahk there—holding out a glowing stone to the woman and pointing toward the Path.

He got her out.

For all that he is hunting me and trying to put an end to my work, he cares too. He always has. My chest nearly caves in.

The images keep moving, flipping through dozens upon dozens of human faces, in their own human world, living their lives, working, falling in love, raising families, making homes and beautiful things with their free hands, unbound by slavery. Living.

Because I got them out.

It’s too overwhelming. I cover my mouth with my hand, my shoulders shaking with the tears I dare not cry. I blink furiously, not wanting to miss a single face, but it goes on and on, and every time I think we must have reached the end, it keeps going.

So many people.

I never kept count. I’ve always hoped they recovered from what they had been through, but I never had a way to find out where they are or how they are doing. I’ve always focused my attention on the next raid and the next and next.

I never stopped to look back at all the work I’ve accomplished.

I grip the edges of the bowl. This is my last raid. My last time to ever be in Faerieland. For the first time, that idea doesn’t feel entirely wrong. I’m just one person—there’s no way I can get every single human out of a world as vast and varied as Faerieland. But maybe, just maybe, the work I’ve done can be enough. Maybe these people, who now have their lives restored, are enough.

My sorrow and my death will give these people life.

The pool goes black.

I stay where I am, clinging to the edges of the bowl, my elbows stiff.

Then I remember that there are still more people. These last eleven. I must finish this.

I sweep aside the gauzy black veil to find Rahk waiting just outside.

His black eyes fall straight to me. I go stiff with fright. He cannot see who you are, I remind myself. I’ve got to act like a fae. And yet, how desperately I long to greet him as a friend. As far, far more than a friend.

Act like a fae.

I smile at him, giving him a pointed once-over and biting my lip as I wink. It makes my stomach curl, but he is my husband.

His gaze has already passed over me, focusing on his destination— the pool .

I should let him go. I’ve wasted enough time as it is.

But when he moves to walk past me, his scent wafts over me. Clear night skies and wind. It takes me back to what it felt like to be wrapped up in his strong embrace, to lose my head every time he kissed me. It takes me back to what it felt like to receive his many gifts, to be rewarded by his laughter when I said foolish things. He doesn’t look like he has ever laughed, but I know better.

The letter he left me wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. This is the last time I’ll ever see him. I cannot just let him go.

“I heard you’ve been to the human lands,” I say, ignoring my better judgment.

He stops briefly but doesn’t even look at me. “I have.”

“What kingdom did you visit?”

The only show of his surprise is the flick of his gaze to mine. Finally, he looks at me .

“Are you familiar with the human kingdoms on the edge of Caphryl Wood?” he asks, almost suspiciously. And he’s right to be suspicious—I would imagine that fae think of the human world much as the humans view the fae’s: all one people, in one homogenous kingdom, speaking the same language, ruled by one king. Most fae wouldn’t know to ask such a clarifying question.

“I collect tales of the humans in my spare time,” I reply. “Once, I had the privilege of visiting. I miss it dearly.”

His interest is immediately captured. “You’ve been to the human world? I have been both to Aursailles and Harbright, but I’ve spent more time in the latter.”

“Truly?” I say brightly, drawing upon the persona I reserve for playing the noblewoman to give a pleased laugh. “Harbright was where I visited! It was ages ago, but the memories are so clear I think of it as yesterday.”

“The smells too, I imagine,” Rahk says, with just a tinge of that twinkle returning to his eye.

“The smells too!” I agree, hoping my enthusiasm covers my lack of experiential understanding. “The food was appalling.”

Rahk smiles at that, and triumph thrills in my belly. “I found it to be unexpectedly pleasing, but I have never been particular about food.”

“The white liquid drink was the most egregious crime.”

“Milk?” His smile widens. “If the food was so appalling, what do you miss about the human lands?”

We’ve stepped aside from the veil, and someone slips past us to see what awaits them in the mirror’s reflection.

“The scenery, for one. There is something beautiful in its simplicity.”

Rahk nods in agreement.

“For another, those four-legged creatures that everyone rides or pulls their wheeled boxes on, with the long tails. Those creatures were beautiful.”

That earns me a proper laugh. The sound draws the weighty gazes of Lord and Lady Nothril, and I try to shift slightly behind Rahk so they cannot look at me too closely. Rahk notices the dark and curious glares at once and steps into a secluded spot shielded by the arrangement of the cavern walls. I follow him, taking care not to trip and fall into the river from the force of my pounding heart.

“But mostly,” I continue, before he can remember his duty and leave me, “I miss the stories the people would tell. Their lives are so short, and yet there is something so raw and real about their flaws, their death, their love. It captivates me.”

Rahk’s gaze shutters slightly. I can feel him drawing away from me, but not because I’ve bored him. Because I’ve brought to mind things he wishes to forget.

It hurts far more than I thought it would—to see him trying so hard to forget me. To see him withdrawing from anything that might make him think of me.

I cannot let him leave me on this note. Even though my heart cracks anew, as though freshly broken, I force a smile onto my face and ask, “What about you? Do you ever think of your time in the human worlds?”

He looks out across the dark river. He is silent for so long, I’d fear he wasn’t going to respond at all—except I know him too well for that.

“Not a moment goes by that I do not think of the human realms.” His voice is low, and far more honest than I would have expected. “Or what I left there.”

The declaration makes my knees shake. I struggle to find my voice amid the rush of blood in my ears. “Someone? Or one of the box-on-wheels creatures?”

He doesn’t smile at my joke, nor does he answer my question.

“Ah,” I say with a little chuckle. “I see.”

His eyes meet mine in question for a split second, before they shut in defense. “I doubt you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

No. I cannot let him go.

Will I ever be ready to let him go? No. But I need just one more moment.

“Did you bond with her then?” I ask quickly before he leaves.

His reply is gruff. “Of course not.”

“But you loved her.”

The muscles of his throat constrict as he takes one step away, putting distance between us. Then his attention returns to me. “What did you say your name was?”

The request is so abrupt that my mind momentarily goes blank. What did Tailor say my false name was? Why can I not remember it? Ariselle. Right. “Ariselle. Of Nothnim.”

Rahk’s black eyes dilate. He steps toward me, and when he gets very close, I retreat by instinct. He cannot see through my glamour—I still have time before it fails.

“That is an interesting trick you’ve just accomplished,” Rahk says coolly, cornering me against the rocky wall of the cavern. His entire demeanor has changed in one instant. The face I look upon is cold, mixed with a strange sort of delight—that of a cat cornering a mouse.

“Prince Rahk,” I say uneasily, telling myself repeatedly there is no way he could have seen past my glamour, “this is quite forward of you. We’ve only known each other for minutes.”

I catch my mistake before the words have even finished leaving my mouth.

The next instant, a thin dagger is in Rahk’s hand, the tip pressed against my throat. I go still.

“What a very human thing to say,” he says, his eyes gleaming like I have never seen before. “Right after you tell a lie with no scent. Ivy Mask. ”

I have played with fire. Now it is time to be devoured by it. I always knew it would come to this.

No, I growl inside my own head. You do not give up.

“Ooh, I like this,” I laugh, reaching up to touch the tip of the blade. It’s so sharp I barely feel the prick before I start bleeding. “Is this part of your wooing, Prince Rahk? If so, consider me captivated .”

His eyes seem to pierce into my soul, as though to strip the truth from the lies, trying to understand how I can be a human and yet wear glamours without a fae to maintain them.

I stand on my tiptoes, leaning into the dagger and embracing its sting. He reacts at once, lightening the pressure on the blade to not cut me too deeply. Because he wants me alive? Or because he is no longer sure?

My heart rages in my chest. He knows I am not a fae, which leads to the only assumption that I am the Ivy Mask—but he has been convinced that Kat is not the Ivy Mask. This leaves me with only one option.

An option that might be just as condemning as it could be convincing.

I dart forward and kiss him before he has time to guess what I’m about to do. It’s a short kiss, because he pulls away immediately. But that contact is enough. Even glamoured, our lips know each other.

His eyes go wide as moons, a storm of horror overtaking the brief flash of delight. He grabs me by the shoulders, his grip almost painful. “Kat? What are you doing here? What—what is this glamour? Great Kings, how did you get here? Tell me what is happening! You’re in grave danger!”

He instinctively takes up a protective stance, moving his body between me and the path that leads to the rest of the party.

It hits me then. He doesn’t want me to be the Ivy Mask, so if I give him enough of a reason, enough excuse, he will believe me. Because he is too afraid of what it would mean if I am the person he hunts.

The Starborn Prince claimed I must be especially clever to evade a hunter as skilled as Rahk. That is hardly true. My cleverness only took me so far—his own willful refusal to see the truth has done the rest.

The lies spew out of my mouth, giving him that excuse, desperately trying to save the lives of the people I’m supposed to be getting out of here right now. I coat the lies with so much frantic truth that maybe, just maybe, the saints will forgive me. “I came to tell you that I love you. I just had to see you one more time. I had to tell you that I made a mistake. Please come back home, Rahk. Please be my husband again.”

Hope flares across his handsome features. It quickly vanishes. He tightens his grip on my shoulders, his attention shooting to the celebration behind us every few seconds. His voice is laced with panic. “Where did you get this glamour? Tell me right now.”

“I made a bargain with a fae, and he gave me this glamour—”

He spits a vile curse. His fingers dig into my collarbones as he brings his face close to mine. “What fae? What bargain? Tell me the exact wording of this bargain.” When I hesitate, he snaps, “At once!”

“I—I don’t know!” His panic is contagious. I check my pocket watch only to realize I have a measly twenty minutes before my glamour vanishes. How is that possible? I have only been here for half an hour at most! I need to get out of this celebration. Now. “It was just some creature I’d never seen before. He said he would take me to you and disguise me so I could see you.”

“What did he want in exchange?” Rahk demands. “Tell me the exact words.”

“He wanted me to lead the captives out of Nothril and into the human world, but he didn’t say which ones. I figured he’d bring them to me or something when it was time to leave. Do you know what he was talking about?”

Can I fool him into thinking my life will only be spared if I get the captives out? Will he help me then?

Rahk’s face twists in perplexity. “What would he get if you didn’t fulfill this?”

I swallow. “My life.”

“Katherine!” Rahk covers his face with his hands, releasing me. “You must remember the wording!”

“I just wanted to see you again.”

“I wanted to see you too!” he snaps, rounding on me. “But I want you to be alive, you foolish girl! Tell me the wording of the bargain!”

I flinch at his tone, and it’s entirely genuine. “I have to get out of this ball, Rahk, before my glamour vanishes.”

“How long until it vanishes?”

“Eighteen minutes.”

Rahk lets out a wordless growl of frustration. “Why didn’t you say that at the beginning? I cannot believe someone as clever as you would do something as tremendously stupid as this is! Especially after your mother!”

I flinch again.

He gentles his tone very slightly. “Listen, this is what we’re going to do. You are going to leave first. I will trail behind you. You are to go to the table of refreshments and pick up a drink—but don’t you dare drink it—then you will slip out of the celebration. I will follow you and make sure you get out. Then we are going straight to my rooms to discuss how to fix this mess.”

He places his hand on my low back and pushes me ahead of him down the path. Right before I step back around the bend, he leans down to my ear and whispers, “Pretend like you thought you were going to get a tryst and are disappointed after getting rebuffed.”

“That won’t be difficult,” I reply darkly.

As I step into the throng again, my mind spins with how I’m going to get out of this one. I knew better than this. My own stupid heart might not just cost me my own life, but the lives of the people I’m trying to free.

If I cannot get them out of here, I will never forgive myself.

I give once last glance toward Pavi, who sits silently near her mother. I cannot get her out.