Fae Witch Chronicles Books 1 - 3, page 51
*
We spend the next few hours biting our nails and waiting, while Revlen dispatches messages to cells throughout the city. As she prepares, I see my first lingualawks, sleek silver birds with sky-blue eyes. Revlen whispers words into their ears, as the birds sit perched on a wall in the alley. They take to the air one by one, rising into the clouds where they become nearly invisible.
Soon, it’s just a matter of time until all hell breaks loose. The impression I get is that, while the Seelie know about the rebels, they've never taken them seriously. They've long regarded any opposition as having no teeth. Which has largely been true until now. As a result, they’ve failed to notice not only the extent of the rebel movement, but also the fact that they've been quietly training for years.
Finally the moment comes for those attacking the palace to ride out. Before long, the streets will flood with rebels approaching those walls, while in other parts of the city they’ll confront soldiers representing the crown. I have no doubt that Revlen is correct in her assessment. More than likely, they won't overthrow the Seelie regime in one fell swoop. Still, the pandemonium about to bloom will serve as a vivid wake up call. Unless the Seelie can regain their stranglehold on magical power—something that at this point seems unlikely—their days of oppression are numbered.
As Esras joins the others to set off, he holds his head high. His eyes are clear and determined, his jaw set with conviction. All the same, I can't help but wonder if within him rages an inner conflict. He's about to take up arms against his own people—in a sense, his very own family. I can't imagine how it wouldn't be tearing him apart.
Just before he leaves, his gaze meets mine, lingering just long enough. In that frozen moment, as he straps on his sword, I receive his unspoken message. He hasn’t forgotten the night we shared. He thinks of it still. Even if, in the days that have passed, there’s been no way for us to be together. And, right now, it’s quite possible that we’ll never see each other again. Because, as strange and archaic as their methods seem, in this realm where battles are fought with magic and swords, war still means the same thing as it does in my own. People will die today, and there's no way of knowing who those people will be.
*
Soon, Cade and I make our way beneath the streets of the city—wearing, as it turns out, official palace servant uniforms. Not exactly what I had in mind, and definitely not the stuff of prophecies. At least to my way of thinking. Essentially, these are the same types of clothes worn by those serving the Ferndelm family—a plain, sturdy skirt and blouse for me, wool pants and collarless shirt for Cade. The only exception being our leather vests bearing the crest of the Winter Court. Yes, I’m feeling more heroic by the moment, especially now that I’m dressed as a medieval scullery maid.
The clothes were somehow procured by one of Revlen’s people, the idea being that we’d have a better chance of going unnoticed. I’m also wearing a glamour Cade cast, one fitting the part. A quick look at myself showed me to be a young woman with frizzy auburn hair, freckles and hazel eyes. Let’s hope it lasts this time.
As far as the sewers go, we're far from the only rats scuttling along. While I imagined it being just the two of us stumbling through the stench-filled darkness, the tunnels are ablaze with torches. Unseelie men and women move past us in both directions, on missions of their own. Before long, we cut away from the main flow as we enter another tunnel through which we alone move. My heart starts racing at knowing that ours is a singular objective. We alone will attempt to enter the palace grounds.
I can't help but give voice to my fears, only now asking what I should have before. “Cade, is this a suicide mission? Would we be better off waiting?”
Even as I speak the words, I regret them. Julia remains trapped and terrified. How can I even think about waiting?
“Look, I'm scared too,” Cade says. “But, no, I don't think it's suicide. Revlen’s right. If too many of us tried getting into the palace, we'd be spotted immediately. That would be suicide.”
I nod and keep trudging along. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Besides, the Seelie don't want to kill you,” Cade says. “They want to capture you.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
Cade laughs. “Sure thing, buddy. If it helps, try thinking of this as a heist.”
“A heist.”
“Exactly. We slip inside, steal your friend, and slip back out of there again. Piece of cake, right?”
“Except for the part about it being a heavily guarded palace protected by the realm's most powerful mage.”
Cade makes a scoffing sound. “Every heist has some complications. Try not to worry.”
I stare at Cade's profile, but he doesn't crack a smile to signal that he's kidding. He is kidding, right?
We continue slogging along for another half hour. Thankfully, there's not as much sewage down here as I remembered, and the stench is way less intense. Maybe the Unseelie drained the sewers for today's subterranean activities, or maybe we just got lucky. Either way, that part is good. Okay, it’s the only part that is, but I guess I should take note of whatever there is to be thankful for. At least if we're marching to our deaths, we won't go out reeking too badly. Hey, no one can ever say I'm not an optimist.
“Okay, this is it.” Cade stops and points at one of the rusty ladders lining the slick stone walls. “At least I think it is.”
“You think it is?”
Cade shrugs. “Hey, burglary isn't an exact science.”
Involuntarily, I ball my hands into fists. “Yeah, Cade. I'm pretty sure burglary is supposed to involve a certain amount of precision.”
“And it does.” He gestures at the ladder again. “I'm at least eighty percent sure that will take us up to the palace grounds. Those really aren't bad odds.”
Given that Cade's assessment of us having found the right location involves a twenty percent chance of failure, I'm definitely afraid to hear his opinion of our overall chances for success. I decide we've probably had enough conversation and start following him up the ladder.
CHAPTER 23
Cade reaches the top and lifts the sewer cover a crack to peek out. “I was right,” he whispers. “Now let's move quick.”
He scrambles up and out, and I do the same. We're literally in the middle of a street, which leaves me confused, but there's no time to think. Cade sets the cover back in place and we make a dash for nearby bushes.
“We should be near the gardens,” Cade says, once we're reasonably hidden.
“Should be?”
“We are,” Cade says. “At least I'm pretty sure.”
Fair enough. This is the palace, after all. I can't imagine he's ever been here before. At least we made it to our destination. Meanwhile, I survey our surroundings to see that I wasn't wrong about my initial impression. We really did just exit the sewers through a manhole cover in the middle of a street. And I guess it makes sense that they'd have manholes in Faerie. Or faeholes, or whatever. Someone must have to work in the sewers occasionally for legitimate purposes, and not be down there just because they're either plotting or stealing. But I didn't realize there would be streets within the palace grounds, although I guess that too makes sense. From what I saw the other night with Fashenan, the palace grounds looked to be enormous.
At the moment, the street appears to be empty, a peaceful scene compared to everything else. Above us, fireballs streak through a sky that has grown suddenly dark, as if a bad storm is rolling in. Bells ring from several towers while that same high pitched alarm from the other night shrieks through the air. In the distance, men shout, the sound of their confusion punctuated by explosions rocking the ground. We were underground for less than an hour and it feels like the entire world has changed.
I turn to Cade, trying to keep my voice low. “What do we do now?”
He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “See that giant house over there? We need to get inside it and find your friend while Abarrane and her idiots are looking the other way.”
I look in the direction he just pointed to see that the palace really isn't too far off. Maybe a quarter mile or so. I try to look at it his way. It really is just a giant house. Well, a mansion, but still. And I already know where they're keeping Julia. On top of that, I can feel magic surging through me again. That alone changes everything. Now, we just have to hope that Revlen’s plan works and the Seelie soldiers are too distracted and spread thin. Armed with magic, Cade and I should be able to handle a few on our own.
“I’m ready when you are,” I say.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure, Scamper.” And I figure I better ask while I still can. “By the way, in case we die, what the hell does that even mean?”
A crooked smile appears on his face. “It’s from an Unseelie children’s story.”
I didn’t see that one coming. “A children’s story?”
Cade’s smile keeps growing. “Yep. About a thief who stole from the rich and gave to the poor.”
A grin spreads across my face too. “Seriously, Robin Hood?”
Cade shrugs, but I can tell he’s kind of proud. “Yeah, same deal, basically.”
“Wow, Cade the hero,” I say.
On one hand, having this conversation right now makes absolutely no sense. On the other, this moment of levity might do us good before heading in. We both know that anything can happen. Despite Revlen’s plans, the odds in our favor aren’t particularly good. It’s just that neither one of us can bring ourselves to admit it.
We get moving, to find that Cade is right about the gardens being nearby. We soon cut behind a row of massive hedges and from there onto paths not unlike those I wandered behind Raakel’s house. No, I can’t bring myself to think of it as Esras’s house, or Fashenan’s. Not even Luchtane Ferndelm’s. That house of sadness and cruelty was created by Raakel, and I’ll never think of it as belonging to anyone else.
As more fireballs streak through the darkening sky, it’s a surreal experience to make our way through the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen. Roses of all colors fan out in giant swaths beside us. The blooms are truly unearthly in size, infused with a health that could only have originated in magic. Beside those are huge beds of tulips, ranging in colors unparalleled on Earth. Butterflies the size of kites float peacefully through the air, while equally large dragonflies flit past, their wingspan a seeming contradiction to their gossamer fragility. We pass topiaries dwarfing anything on the Ferndelm estate, many shaped like dragons, reminding me that somewhere behind this display of opulence yet another creature remains imprisoned.
That I should care makes me wonder just how much my sensibilities have changed in the last few weeks. After all, the only time I’ve seen the dragon was when it was hunting people down. But I haven’t forgotten what Cade told me. That dragons, left to themselves, bother no one. Nor have I forgotten what Revlen said when I asked how the dragon was kept. You wouldn’t like it. Not from what we hear.
Our heads jerk up at the sound of hooves pounding the earth, and we dash behind a topiary just in time. Troops on horseback race past as more explosions sound in the distance. As if answering that call of violence, the sky flashes with lightning, great jagged arcs shooting toward the ground. We wait until we think we’re safe, and then start moving again just as a giant tree before us gets struck. It bursts apart with an earsplitting crack. The sweet fragrance of the garden becomes lost to the acrid smell of smoke drifting our way, both from the burning tree and fires raging beyond the walls.
Startled to stillness, we set out again, but we don’t get far before a Seelie soldier appears on the path. He looks nearly as stunned at seeing us as we must appear at seeing him. He recovers quickly, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“What are you two doing out here?”
Neither of us say anything. Instead, I pull up my magic, willing it to rise before he draws that blade. The current hums through my veins.
The guard looks back and forth between us again, this time glaring. “Servants are to stay inside. I could take your heads for this. Do you realize that?”
In that moment, I see him for what he is. I've rarely encountered any old looking fae, but he looks nearly seventy. Which, for a fae, means he must be ancient. He’s probably been forgotten out here on some routine patrol. The fact is, he looks scared at what’s going on.
I lower the hand I’d been raising to strike. “I'm sorry,” I say. “The noise made us curious.”
“Curious can get you killed.” The guard gestures toward the sound of fighting. “None of this concerns you. It's just a training exercise. You should get back inside.”
We walk quickly toward the house, while I feel the old man glaring at our backs. But the encounter makes me realize that wearing the uniforms really was a good idea. After all, there must be hundreds of servants on an estate this size, and to the guards we must all seem the same.
We’re close now to the back of the palace, where rows upon rows of arched windows look out from an edifice of smooth white stone. But my gaze drops as I search for the windows shaped like slits. I see none, but it seems likely that those imprisoned here would be kept near the back. Like the Ferdelms, they must keep their slaves below ground, maybe off to one side of where this wing protrudes out into the grounds.
“That must be the kitchen entrance,” I say, pointing to where two large doors open onto an area paved with cobblestones. While the windows are arched and decorative elsewhere, those close to the doors are simple rectangles, the doors themselves thick slabs of oak. This is the part of the house where aesthetics don’t matter, only practicality for those who labor. I know the look of it all too well.
I don't check to see if the guard is still watching. My guess is that, with everything going on around us, he might well be gone. All the same, if we had a better option, it's too late to try using it. On the off chance we're still being watched, doing anything else would give us away.
We enter a kitchen easily six times the size of the one serving the Ferndelm estate, but we still draw stares. Thankfully, those stares come from servants closest to the door. Nearly all of them look frightened and curious. No, they've never seen us before, and I don’t kid myself that they’re fooled by our disguises. Unlike the guard, they must know who should be here. Still, I doubt one of them is going to sound the alarm. Not when survival means keeping your head down, and I can tell from their expressions that they know something serious is happening.
Sure enough, they resume their activities as best they can. Which must be a challenge, considering that the torches flicker low and none of the stoves are working. It seems like none of them know what to do, and no one has bothered to tell them. Right now, the Seelie have bigger fish to fry, but the failing lights could at least work to our advantage. Hopefully, only those closest can make us out clearly.
Now, for the next steps. Our plan is pretty straight-ahead. Find Julia without getting killed or captured, while the nobles are suddenly overwhelmed. From there, find a way to get her out of there again. Whether I’ll be able to open the rift between realms for an easy exit remains to be seen. As things stand, I think it might be possible. At least, I tell myself I feel sufficient access to magic. But there’s no point in trying until we achieve our objective. If realm-slipping isn’t an option, then we get Julia out the same way we came in. Not the best prospect, but for now we just need to find our way down to where I saw her.
We keep making our way through the room as I scan the exits, trying to determine if any lead downstairs. I see one that seems the most likely, off to the back at the far side of the room. At least, I’m pretty sure I glimpse a stairwell as someone opens that door. Fucking hell. If I only had some sense of bearings, but last night feels hazy and dreamlike now. Still, I nod toward the door so Cade knows what I’m thinking. “Back there,” I say. “That might be a way down.”
Suddenly, a man’s voice rings out. “Everyone, stop what you’re doing and pay attention!”
He stands at the front of the kitchen, and must have just come in from the main floor. Thankfully he’s not a Seelie guard, but that may not mean much. He’s tall and broad-chested, standing with an air of authority although he too wears a servant’s vest. He surveys the room with a scrutiny suggesting he’s used to being feared.
Everyone in the room stops. They stand rigid, awaiting his next words. Cade and I too freeze in place, both of us looking down, as the man plants balled fists on his hips.
“This is a direct order from the queen. You are to remain at your posts and carry on. There will be no disruption of duties during today’s training exercises.”
Furtive glances are exchanged throughout the room, and it’s not hard to imagine what the servants are thinking. Clearly, they can’t carry on, since nothing is working. The fact that not one of them gives voice to this only serves to underscore my impression. The man who spoke may be one of them, but he’s above them in station. Some sort of head servant, I guess. Either way, he’s been given power, and it shows in the veins bulging at his neck and the hard set of his jaw.
He looks around the room again, his gaze challenging. “Does anyone have questions?”
I’m sure they must have a thousand, but not one of them asks. The situation is ludicrous, the room nearly dark, while outside explosions continue and alarms peal through the air.
“Very well,” he says. “I will begin my inspections.”
He starts walking forward, as everyone but us pretends to be doing something. They stir pots beneath which no flames flicker. They cut meat that can’t be cooked. They chop vegetables beside piles that have already been chopped. Meanwhile, we remain frozen. The situation would be laughable, but I have no doubt that the man now striding through the room would happily betray us.
Wheels start creaking across the floor, and I turn as a girl says, “Can you two please help me with these?”
She’s at most seventeen, pushing a cart holding pans of sliced fruit. She’s thin, with dark skin and deep rings beneath bloodshot eyes. She might be half-blood, but I doubt it. In fact, she looks vaguely familiar. I get the feeling I might have seen her blurred image in one of those news articles.
