Page 20 of Courting the Fae Captain (Romancing the Realms #4)

‘If you’re reading this journal, you’re either very nosy or very desperate for help. The good news is this: I serve my tea hot and my advice with a side of cold-hard truth.’

Journal excerpt, author unknown

I rose with the sun, basking in the golden rays as they beamed down through the frosted glass windows.

Outside, the ocean tides were calm, unlike the violent swirling of my stomach.

It was excitement, yes, but also trepidation.

What would I find on the pages of my mother’s journal?

What horrors might she have inked that I was yet to face?

I sucked in a lungful of air, blowing it out on a sigh as I grabbed the journal and settled down beside the window on the parquet floor.

I flipped through the book, procrastinating, when a torn page caught my eye.

I slid my finger over it to mark the spot, and my heart jolted with excitement.

A folded note had been squashed between the pages; the parchment aged with time and stained with blotted fingerprints.

It gave the impression of being hurriedly scrawled.

With another deep breath, I opened the note and read:

Dear reader,

If this journal is in your possession, then I am likely dead, and you are no doubt next.

I have done everything they asked of me.

I have killed under duress. I have survived countless attempts on my life.

I pray that it will be enough, but there is a feeling in my gut…

an instinct that my life will not be long-lived, even if I survive what comes next.

The Wedding Rite is barbaric and not what we have been led to believe. I hope if you have found my journal that it can aid or comfort you should you also face the Rite and soon look upon your death … or worse.

We thought the females who failed in the Rite all perished. But not all of them do. Some of them, many of them, are taken. I have discovered what they do with them, and I know where they are taken. Gods, if this note has been found, it means I couldn’t help them.

Our sex has always been treated as lesser. We have always been pitted against each other. But we must stop allowing the males to divide us. We need each other. I beg of you, find them. Save the ones who are lost and free them from their iron prisons. Let there be an end to this empire of madness.

I must hurry. The drumming has begun. We females are being herded, and the guards will be coming for me. I’m so afraid. But the blood has not stopped spilling, and the Pentad must slake their thirst.

Go to the place where wooden teeth lead to still waters and look not at the ground but what’s beneath it. There you will find them at the beginning of the end.

Good—

I scanned the abrupt end to the letter in dismay.

No. No. There had to be more. There had to be something other than a cryptic riddle and a doom-filled farewell.

I knew, realistically, that this letter wasn’t the last thing my mother ever wrote.

But it was the last thing she’d written here.

Had she intended to come back for her journal once she’d won the Rite and freed the females?

Obviously, she never had the chance. Father probably had eyes on her at all hours.

It seemed like keeping her imprisoned in the castle was the kind of fucked-up thing he would do.

But then … how did she ever escape him in the end?

Fuck . Raithe needed to see this. As much as I wanted to read my mother’s diary entries, this was important.

But I still hadn’t completely ruled out that the captain could be involved with the Pentad.

He was the captain of the Shadow Court navy, after all.

True, his motivation seemed genuine, and despite this tentative alliance being forged with my life as a bargaining piece, I felt bad for him.

He only wanted to have his mother back. I understood that feeling well. But was it the whole truth?

The more I considered, the less I felt like I could trust him.

I needed to think of myself and the missing females.

If I could get out of here, maybe I could find someone to help me, someone who had nothing to do with this place and no connection to the Pentad.

At the very least, I’d be safer. After all, I wouldn’t be able to help anyone if I was dead.

Yes, that’s exactly what I needed to do. I needed to escape. Now.

A dozen scenarios ran through my head, all of them crazier than the last. Scaling the castle walls, rock climbing down the cliff, stealing a horse and charging through the gate— yeah, good luck with that one, Aeris —hiding in a merchant cart.

Oh, praise Falane, that was it! One of the servants was heading into town today to barter goods.

A large shipment of herbs was being delivered to one of the healers in Domeratt.

Margaery, the castle healer, would never allow me to go, of course, but if I could hide in the cart when no one was looking…

The journal fit nicely and snugly at the small of my back in the waistband of my pants.

I dashed to don a cloak before creaking my door open and listening for any sign of movement.

Nothing to be concerned about. This wing of the castle remained relatively quiet in the early morning.

Servants went about their work once the females had started training, and most seemed to get as much precious sleep as they could before starting the long day of chores and gruelling body work.

No one batted an eye as I descended the stairs.

I paused at the mid-level landing, looking out the tall window to see a merchant cart nearly at capacity already.

Shit. My window of opportunity was quickly closing.

I raced down the steps and through the corridors of disgruntled servants and females who were still waking up and in search of breakfast. I reached the apothecary and finally slowed my steps, forcing my breathing to become even as I stepped inside casually.

“Aeris? What are you doing here?” Margaery looked down her nose at me, her glasses sliding down the bridge, as she weighed a bag of what looked like cloves and checked her stock list. “Your shift doesn’t start until after training.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I lied. “Thought I’d help with the shipment.”

“Well, who am I to turn down the help?” She turned to a crate of vials filled with various concoctions. “Take this to the cart and be careful! Those are expensive. If you break a single one, I’ll?—”

“You’ll have me whipped or you’ll twist my ear off?” I grinned, picking up the crate. “I’m sure you’ll find a punishment worthy of the crime.”

Margaery smacked her list onto the counter and removed her glasses.

She looked even more stern without them as she pursed her lips and straightened her brown hair in its bun.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just talk back to a superior and instead tell you to move before the driver leaves. That is the last crate.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said with a nod. She threw me an exasperated smile before waving me off absentmindedly.

It was a short trip out the apothecary door to the inner courtyard where the cart waited.

My heart sank when it came into view. Servants bustled around the thing from every side, and the driver was carefully loading every single item, paying close care and attention to each.

There was no chance of sneaking onboard.

“Another one?” The driver groaned as I approached. “It’ll be hard enough to fit everything in without squashing anything. That female’s going to be the death of me.”

I smiled apologetically. “You could do a second trip?”

He side-eyed me as he took the crate. “Cheeky thing. Go on with ya.” Then he turned to look at one of the laundresses. “How many more on your end?”

I turned to walk away, my heart sinking deep into my stomach…

“Two chests. They’re rather large. Then you’re free to go,” the female said.

“Thank Valere,” the driver said with a sigh. “Hurry on now. I’ll make room for them. The weather is turning, and I’d like to be in Domeratt by sundown.”

“Would you like us to bring you something to drink before you go?” the female asked him, which led to the driver asking what kinds of things they had on offer.

I used the opportunity to quickly change course. The laundry rooms. With one last hopeful dash, I strode purposefully to the other servant’s door near the kitchen and laundry and ducked through the throng of people too focused on their duties to notice me.

A few turns later, and I was in the laundry room, facing two large chests.

The room was blessedly empty of any servants, likely still talking or bringing the driver something to eat or drink.

Now or never. I took one quick look in each chest. The first was overflowing with bolts of fabric.

The second was lined with beautiful garments fit for a queen.

I treated them as anything but while I snatched several out and hid them under some dirty washing.

I wasn’t about to question why they were sending fabric away from the castle.

Maybe it was excess after the 12 died in the crypt.

Either way, I stepped into the chest and folded my body into an uncomfortable ball.

I popped a few dresses over me and closed the lid right before the laundresses returned.

I heard them remove the other chest, then waited with bated breath as they came back for the one I was squashed inside.A few minutes later and I could hear the bustle of the courtyard.

“Ooof.” The driver’s voice was muffled as he groaned, and the chest was placed down and then lifted clumsily again. “What in Ryvia’s name do you have in here?”

“Very valuable artefacts that are worth more than your life,” I recognised the head seamstress snap.

I could tell by the feminine trill that it was her.

“Now use those muscles of yours—”she paused, and I imagined the cursory look she must have granted his skinny frame—“wherever they may be hiding, and get on with it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded miserably.

Then I was hefted up, the chest swaying violently as the laundresses and the driver carried me onto the cart with a resounding thud, causing me to bump my head.

I bit my lip, then narrowed my eyes at my invisible carriers.

The likelihood of Margaery’s vials smashing just increased exponentially, based on how the driver treated these goods.

He really wanted to get to Domeratt before sundown.

Voices carried as the driver bid the staff goodbye and clucked for his horse to get moving.

The cart slowly rolled out, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I shifted the gowns from my face and took a breath of air.

It was stuffy in here, and I was not looking forward to a long voyage crammed in this godsforsaken thing.

But I was here. I was getting out. If there was room, I’d kick my legs in excitement, but as it was, I’d be sporting one hell of a migraine and an aggravated back in a few hours based on the crick already forming in my neck.

All I could do was listen as the cart journeyed on.

No guards stopped us, no one inspected the cart, and the gate, mercifully, rolled open with a loud groan that allowed us through.

About twenty minutes of journeying along the road, and a voice called out, causing the cart to halt.

Whomever it was, the driver seemed amicable towards them—even pleased.

I held my breath as the males spoke, then hastily covered myself with the dress as boots sounded on the gravel path.

Was this another checkpoint I didn’t know about?

The chest lid opened, and I froze as the garment was swept aside. Above me, Raithe stood with the most damnable fucking smirk on his face as he looked at his catch.“There you are.”