Luxe in Arms, page 4
“The seer is not in the main dungeon. She is in a cell built directly underneath the queen’s quarters.”
Søren drew in a sharp breath, cursing to himself. He agreed with her initial statement: this might not be possible. Saoirse noted his response. “Exactly. The queen arranges for this prisoner’s basic care using her own magic, so no one need ever know she is there. But she’s guarded by default, as the queen’s rooms are well protected by both fae warriors and magic.”
“This is starting to sound impossible.” Luxe sounded discouraged, and Søren couldn’t blame her. He was already hesitant to risk their safety for this seer; knowing her exact location made him wish they could just leave her there until the rebellion was over. He knew Luxe would never agree to that, though.
Saoirse inclined her head. “I did tell you. Perhaps if the queen was forced to move the human somewhere else, you would have a chance.”
“Why would she do that?” Luxe looked puzzled.
Saoirse shrugged. “For some reason that you would have to create. Half or more of your battle with Her Majesty will be that of wit.”
“Okay.” Luxe looked to Søren. “And you know where the queen’s rooms are?”
He nodded. “Generally. I’ve never been inside them, but everyone at court knows which wing she resides in.”
“Right.” Luxe was quiet for several moments, and Søren could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. “Well, it’s more than we knew before. Thank you.”
Saoirse gave another gracious incline of her head. “Now, for your part of the bargain.” She sounded calm, but Søren noticed how her body tensed in anticipation of their response.
“We do know who you are, or were,” Luxe started, but the fae female held up a hand to interrupt her.
“No offense intended, child, but I know humans can lie. I would rather hear the words from their lips.” She gestured at the fae males.
Luxe pressed her mouth into a line and nodded.
Alistair and Calix both looked at Søren in question. Alistair said, “I can—”
But Søren cut him off with a grimace. “No, I’ll do it. I… It should be me.” He shifted to face his mother more fully and sat up a little straighter. Might as well get it over with. “The portraits you saw in that house—our home—told your true story. Your name was Mina, and you were—are—my mother.”
Saoirse mouthed the name “Mina” before she blinked, processing the next part of Søren’s statement. “I have a child.”
Søren nodded. He thought Saoirse’s eyes grew glassy, but it was difficult to tell in the dim light.
She stared into the distant dark, and her voice was quiet, as though she spoke mostly to herself. “I always wondered… My body knew, somehow. I knew I had been a mother. But I couldn’t remember any of it.”
Søren heaved a sigh, feeling like the hardest part was over. “I am your only son. Your partner, my father, is still alive as well. The man you saw in the paintings.”
“Can I ask his name?” Saoirse was obviously trying to hold it together, but her voice trembled.
Søren wrinkled his brow, considering. Sharing his father’s first name couldn’t really do any harm, and maybe it would help her remember. “I suppose. He is well hidden, so you will not find him unless he wants you to. His name is Magnus.”
Saoirse inhaled sharply. “I remember him from court. I knew he looked familiar in those paintings. He advised the queen.”
Søren nodded. “He did, for many years.” Unwillingly, with defiance in his heart after Mina’s disappearance, but Søren didn’t need to get into that now.
“Until he betrayed her.” Saoirse shook her head sadly. “You know, I always did think he was handsome, on the rare occasion I caught a glimpse.” She wore a faraway look, as though remembering, but it faded quickly. She met his gaze directly. “I will tell you this as a gesture of my goodwill. Although the queen has not given me a direct order concerning your own lives—yet—I do have a standing order to … take care of Magnus if I happen to cross paths with him. She was very angry at his betrayal.”
Søren flinched but also felt intense relief that Magnus didn’t come with them as Agatha had urged him to. “Understood.”
“Why wouldn’t she have given you orders about us?” Luxe sounded suspicious, which made sense; the queen wanted her dead, after all.
Saoirse shrugged. “She can be unpredictable. I think… I think she has a strong desire to address the problem of your existence personally.”
Luxe winced. “Oh. Great.”
Saoirse chuckled wryly. “You have evaded her thus far, so you are doing well.” She looked back to Søren. “How, then, did I end up in the queen’s care? How did I lose my memories?”
He frowned. “That’s a long story. I think it would be better told once we have freed the seer?” He noted in a detached way how he was reverting back to more formal habits of speech with her, although it wasn’t a conscious decision. He glanced at Luxe, who gave one small nod.
Saoirse looked back and forth between them. Her jaw clenched, then she forced it to relax. “I see. Well, whatever else you all might be, you’re not entirely stupid. I will help you with your task insofar as I might, but the prospect isn’t promising. Is there any other way I may attempt to garner your trust and goodwill?” Her tone was tinged with a tiny touch of sarcasm.
Søren’s stomach tightened with guilt for not telling his mother her entire history, but he still felt it couldn’t be risked. If she had no more use for them, what would stop her from betraying them to the queen at her first chance?
Luxe surprised Søren with her next question. “Apparently, no one knows the queen’s name, not even her first name. Do you?”
Saoirse narrowed her eyes. “Why would I, if no one else does?”
That wasn’t the answer any of them expected. Søren’s heart skipped a beat, then sped up. He had fully anticipated Saoirse simply saying, “No.” The answer she gave instead…
The others were likely having similar thoughts. Søren shot them all a look to advise caution; they didn’t want to scare her off.
Luxe’s voice was surprisingly calm when she replied, “You knew about the seer when you said no one else does.”
Saoirse blinked and then allowed a small smile to cross her face. “Touché, little halfling.” She took a deep breath. “I know more of Her Majesty’s secrets than likely anyone else.”
“So, you do know it.” Now Luxe’s voice betrayed her excitement. Søren understood why. If they had a chance of ever discovering the queen’s true name…
“Not her whole true name, no.”
“But you know part of it?” Luxe pressed.
“Yes. Which won’t help you. You need an entire true name to hold power over a fae.”
“Even part of it is a step in the right direction.” Luxe hesitated. “Will you tell us?”
The female huffed a laugh. “Once I have obtained the full story of what happened to me, I will consider it.”
Luxe sighed. “Fair enough, I suppose.”
“What now?” Søren asked in an attempt to move the conversation forward. His emotions were all over the place; maintaining his appearance of neutral calm was becoming increasingly difficult.
Saoirse stretched her arms above her head before getting to her feet. They all followed suit as she answered his question.
“I suggest you do some brainstorming on how to rescue this seer—who you shouldn’t know about in the first place. Now that I know the objective, I can do the same. In the meantime, I suggest that you do not remain in one place for too long. Move about and lie low.”
“How can we contact you if we do come up with a plan?” Luxe chewed her bottom lip. Søren knew she was anxious to rescue Willa immediately and was likely frustrated to be faced with another delay.
He was a little relieved, though, and thought Alistair and Calix likely felt similarly.
Saoirse reached inside her cloak. All three males tensed, hands reaching for their weapons, and she chuckled. “Stand down, younglings.” She drew her hand out and displayed the object in her palm. It was a small glass bottle, corked, with a rolled slip of paper inside of it.
“The magic imbued in this will only work once, and I don’t know when I will be able to obtain another, so time your message wisely. Remove the cork and paper, write down where and when to meet you, and return the paper to the bottle. Once you reseal it, the paper will disappear, and I will receive the message.”
Luxe took the bottle, glancing at the guys. Calix and Alistair looked impressed, but Søren was suspicious.
“Does that have a tracking charm on it?”
Saoirse smiled faintly. “No. It is not able to track you, nor is it a trick of any sort. It is a rare piece of magic that will allow us to communicate. Again, don’t waste it, for I may not come across another for some time.”
They murmured their understanding as Luxe tucked the magical object into her pack.
Saoirse stepped toward Søren, tentatively raising a hand. He automatically took a step back.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” She attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked awkward on her face.
He swallowed with some difficulty and nodded. She stepped closer again, and he forced himself to remain in his spot. She laid a hand on his cheek, examining his face.
Her palm was cool and dry, her touch light and tentative. He stood still and stiff as stone, his body unsure how to react, as though his mother was showing affection or as though the queen’s assassin was getting way too close? Part of him wanted to wrap his arms around her, while the other part wanted to raise his sword between them. His heart pounded as all his conflicting emotions and adrenaline raged through him, leaving him somewhat nauseous.
Her hand dropped and she said, almost to herself, “I have a son.” Then she walked past him and portaled away within two steps. Her fae light extinguished; they were left standing in the dark.
5
Options
Søren stood very still for several more moments. Luxe drew closer to him, placing a hand on his forearm. “Are you okay?” She couldn’t see his face well enough to gauge his emotions.
He started slightly as she touched him, then opened his arms and wrapped them around her. He was trembling. Her arms went around his waist and she laid her cheek against his chest. They stood like this for several minutes before Alistair cleared his throat.
“Aye, I’m sure this is difficult for you, Søren. We should get moving, though.”
Søren slowly released her. She shivered at the loss of his warmth as the cold air snaked between them. He summoned a light, and she could now see his carefully neutral expression as he spoke. “You’re right. Let’s head back to the portal. We can figure out where to go next on our way.”
Luxe emptied a canteen and poured the now-cold tea into it, not wanting to waste it; she hadn’t even taken a sip. Then they made their way back through the forest. It was a cold, moonless winter night, and Luxe was grateful for Søren’s ball of magical light, as well as for the warmth emanating from the three male bodies surrounding her.
“Should we go back to the cabin to update Magnus?” Luxe kept her voice low, just in case.
“I will,” Søren replied quickly. “I think it would be better if I went alone. The conversation will be easier for him without an audience.”
“By yourself?” Luxe frowned. “We could just wait outside.”
The shadows thrown by his light danced as he shook his head. “I’ll be fine, Princess.” His tone was firm, and Luxe realized he was determined to do this his way. She couldn’t blame him, but she hated it when they had to split up.
“Should we wait for you here? At the portal?” she asked.
“I think it would be best if I planned to stay a full day and night. My father might also have ideas for us on how to rescue the seer. But you shouldn’t just hang around here waiting.”
“Agreed,” Alistair said. “As Saoirse said, we need to keep moving. I think we should approach more potential allies; we can’t drop that task entirely.”
“Right.” Luxe sighed. She knew it was important, like he said, but everything in her wanted to go straight to the castle and get her cousin out of that cell. “Where to, then?” They had exited the forest and were traveling alongside a road.
Alistair stopped suddenly, grabbing her arm and motioning for her to be quiet. Søren immediately extinguished the light.
“Thought I heard somethin’,” Alistair breathed after a few moments. “We should go quiet all the way to the portal.”
Cautious and slow in the enveloping darkness, they moved forward. After a few minutes, Luxe heard something too—the sound of a group of fae on the road.
“What do we do?” she whispered. Alistair and Søren both held up fingers to their lips. Calix grabbed hold of her hand, squeezing tightly. Be silent and follow their lead.
“Halt,” called a voice. “In the Name of the Queen. Who goes there?”
One of the guys swore under their breath. “Soldiers. Get to the portal,” Alistair whispered. He grabbed Luxe’s other hand. “I got her, Calix. Ready, mo chuisle?”
Calix released her. She called her fae magic, and they stepped forward and came out at the entrance to the portal. Calix and Søren followed immediately, and Luxe sighed in relief when she realized they were there.
“I’m following the plan we discussed.” Søren spoke quickly, voice low. “Meet at the cabin when you can.”
They nodded and murmured their understanding, and he stepped through the invisible doorway.
Luxe realized she felt a little queasy and lightheaded. Well, of course, she had portaled without the tea. She should feel much worse.
“Are you alright, lass?”
“Yeah, not that bad, actually. I wonder why. That was at least two or three miles, wasn’t it?” She remembered how sick she was after her first time in Althea’s forest, portaling only half a mile with Søren.
“Aye. No matter, as long as you’re okay. Let’s go then.”
Calix moved to her other side. “Where to, Sabrina?”
Luxe shrugged. “Halifax?” The idea came to her randomly. She had never been but remembered reading about Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island in a book series as a kid. She read those particular books over and over, partly because they had belonged to her mother as a child.
The three walked through the portal hand in hand.
It was dark and cold at their destination as well. Luxe could hear the ocean. “Should have picked somewhere warmer.” She shivered.
Calix wrapped his arm around her shoulders, lending her his warmth and part of his cloak.
“Let’s stay in the city for the night,” Alistair said. “We can decide where to go next in the morning.”
They made their way into Halifax and managed to find a hotel. Their cloaks got some funny looks, but it was too cold to take them off. Well, too cold for Luxe, anyway, and the guys weren’t going to make her be the only “weird” one.
Settled into the small room with two double beds, Luxe finally crawled under the covers. She was exhausted. Calix claimed the spot next to her while Alistair was in the bathroom. He pulled her up against him, and she relaxed against the heat of his body.
“How’re you doing, Sabrina?” His voice was low in her ear.
“Okay. Tired. Worried. Mildly terrified. The usual, I guess.”
He chuckled softly. “Nothing to be afraid of right this moment.”
She huffed a laugh but didn’t reply. Despite everything, she did feel safe in his arms, in this random hotel in Halifax. So safe that she fell asleep within minutes.
When she was next aware of anything, she was dreaming of herself in Willa’s cell once again.
“You came back.” Willa was sitting on her pallet, her back against the stone wall. She sounded surprised.
“Guess so. I don’t exactly have control over it.”
“You don’t?” Willa sounded disappointed; Luxe couldn’t see her face in the dark. “I thought you knew about this stuff.”
“A little. I only started learning about it a couple of months ago.”
Luxe inched forward cautiously in the dark, not sure if she would hurt herself if she tripped and fell. She sat cross-legged nearer to Willa’s pallet. The woman scooted forward until she sat in a bit of moonlight. She looked the same—dirty, exhausted, with a strange combination of emotions in her brown eyes. They looked flat, somehow, yet at the same time haunted.
“So.” Willa brushed stray tendrils of tangled hair out of her eyes. “Did you figure out your prophecy?”
“Not really.” Luxe hesitated. “I’m trying to come rescue you, just so you know. It’s proving … difficult, but we’re trying.”
Willa barked a cynical laugh. “Proving difficult. I’d imagine so.”
“We will get you out.” Luxe tried to sound confident.
Willa raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Anyway, who’s Thalia? You called me that name, but I don’t know anyone named Thalia.”
Luxe took a deep breath. “Since I don’t know how long we have, I’ll give you the short version first.” Willa nodded, leaning forward expectantly, and Luxe continued. “Thalia is my cousin on my mother’s side. My aunt’s daughter, who she gave up for adoption. She never knew what the baby’s adoptive parents named her, but she called her Thalia to herself. In her journals and things,” Luxe clarified.
Willa gave her a blank stare. “Why would you think I’m her?”
“You look like my aunt, for one thing. But also because of your powers. Our line is descended from the first Oracle of Delphi. We are witches and psychics, and some of us are oracles as well.”
Willa’s eyes widened. “You have got to be joking.” She sounded unsure.
Shaking her head, Luxe heaved out a sigh. “I know it’s a shock. I didn’t know either until not very long ago, when my magic came.”
