Page 31

Talysse

T he smell of old stone and mold hits me first, pulling me back to reality. Then come the distant sounds. Silence so thick and consuming it distorts reality, broken only by the occasional drip of water and the muffled voices of guards above. I’m lying on the cold, wet rock, its surface digging into my skin.

The dungeons in the Unseelie palace are legendary. Built to contain the rebellious archons—enormous creatures who helped the Elders shape the world but then rejected them and sought to destroy their creations. The archons are long dead, turned to stone and then to dust, but the walls designed to withstand their brutal strength still stand.

I crack an eye open, cautiously taking in my surroundings. A single sconce flickers beyond the rusted bars, casting dim light into my cell. I try to roll over and sit up, but chains pull tight, restricting my movements. With a grunt, I manage to sit, assessing my injuries.

My mouth is parched, but the scratches that once marred my skin are gone. No open wound on my forehead, and oddly, no headache either. I glance down at my torn shirt, expecting to see the pink scar that’s marked me for years. But it’s gone too, replaced by smooth skin threaded with strange purple lines, like—

“It’s an Ancestral Mark, like Aeidas’s,” a voice interrupts my thoughts. Desmond steps into the light, his small eyes gleaming. “I brought you cookies. I’ll fetch some water, too, but I couldn’t carry everything at once.” The rat busies himself, untying a bundle he’s dragged along, while I stare at my skin, struggling to process his words.

“Desmond! What happened? I am so confused. There was a Shadowfeeder in the forest, and they broke my bracelet, then everything changed. I made it to the temple, but something horrible happened—”

“Here, Talysse, let me put it in your mouth—” Desmond interrupts, pushing a piece of cookie at me.

I part my lips to protest, but he takes this opportunity and stuffs the cookie in my mouth.

To get out of this mess, I need my strength. Even if it means being fed cookie crumbles by a rat in a dungeon from the dawn of time. This all looks like some mad dream. A part of me clings to the sweet delusion that Mother would walk into my room carrying hot pancakes, plant a kiss on my forehead, and ask me how the night was.

It passes quickly. Mother is dead. Tayna will have an uncertain fate, and—

“Aeidas?” I ask, chewing thoughtfully.

“He’s busy arranging the funeral for his parents and his coronation.”

A strangled sigh escapes me. The image of Aeidas’s face, twisted with pure hatred as he casts that spell, flashes through my mind. It will haunt me forever.

“Did he ask about me?”

The rodent is suddenly too busy brushing cookie crumbs off his brocade jerkin, ignoring the question.

“And Galeoth—he has wings. He is a Seelie!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” the rat covers his snout with disturbingly human-like paws, “you don’t know?”

“That he’s a Seelie posing as a human? Of course I don’t—”

“That you are Seelie, too. And of royal blood, judging by your Mark. A descendant of the bloodline that triggered the Hex.”

The brittle crust of denial shatters instantly, and the world spins around me. Everything I knew—about myself, my family, my past—is a lie.

Seelie Fae were hunted into extinction years ago.

My parents harbored two of the last ones.

There’s no royal Seelie bloodline anymore. Their last royal family was slaughtered in the last war.

This cannot be.

And how…how was it possible to hide this?

A lways hide your treasure in plain sight was one of my father’s most beloved sayings. I can nearly see him sitting in the chair before the fire in his study, rubbing the large ruby ring with our family symbol. A phoenix. The same symbol carved above the fireplace and the entrance door.

Always hide your treasure in plain sight. Faint memories resurface. Mother’s teary eyes when she grabs the tin pot with milk from the stove and takes a step toward me, murmuring some words that make me sleepy. The agonizing pain when hot milk spilled on me.

Her hurried hands washed me with cold water, removing my beloved necklace—the necklace I’ve been wearing since I was a babe, its colorful large beads carved with unknown symbols. Then she slipped the then-too-big bracelet above my elbow. Long days in the bed followed, her humming a song beside me, forcing me to drink gallons of bitter tea that made me tired…

This explains it all. The hatred burning in the prince’s eyes, that raging magic burning inside me after the bracelet was destroyed. I squirm in the chains, trying to reach that bottomless fiery lake of power to cast a spell, but nothing happens.

“The chains are warded against magic,” Desmond says, shoving another piece of cookie into my mouth. And I am too confused to resist, my mind too busy rearranging the details from my past.

Has all my life been a lie? Are my parents really my parents?

“How—” I start.

“You seem half-blood. No wings.” He scurries down my back to check, then climbs back up. “That bracelet of yours was glamouring you. Your folks knew your true nature and were protecting you. My guess is a Seelie royal escaped the purging and got involved with humans. Halflings are rare—” he continues, assuming a lecturing tone, “human and Fae pregnancies have different durations, and babies rarely survive. Mothers rarely survive. A Fae female carries a baby for years, while humans need just nine months, so you see, things can get easily messy—”

“I know, Desmond,” I interrupt, impatiently struggling against the chains. “But there should be answers somewhere. If I can get home, search my parents’ house, there must be something.”

Desmond’s snout droops, and his usually lively tail hangs still.

“I am afraid that’s not possible, Talysse. You know how Seelie are treated here.”

The realization hits me like a blow. Surviving the Trials doesn’t guarantee anything. I might be tortured and killed like the rest of the Seelie.

“What does he intend to do with me?” I finally ask. Desmond shifts nervously.

“I have to go. Someone will answer your question soon. Eat your cookies. You’ll need your strength.”

His tiny form slips through the cell bars, leaving me alone with my thoughts. But I don’t need an answer. I know what happens to captured Seelie. Everyone knows the stories. Executed in the most horrific ways, forced to fight monsters or tossed to the Tainted Ones for sport.

I can’t let it end like this. Not after everything—Tayna, Myrtle, my parents.

It can’t all be for nothing.

I pull at the chains, twisting painfully, but it’s futile. The Unseelie knew what they were doing. When all seems hopeless, you rest. You gather strength. And you wait for the right moment to strike.

Curling up on the cold, damp floor, I let my thoughts race, searching for any scrap of information, any detail I might have missed, that could lead me to freedom.