A Faerie's Curse

Chapter 3

Three

I wasn’t lying to Ryn. Not really. He told me not to do anything risky last night, and I promised him I wouldn’t. But this morning is entirely different. I wake early, after only a few hours of sleep, and return to the Guild. I need to see Mom before they take her away. I need her to know how sorry I am, because no matter what reasons the Guild might have given everyone, I know the length of her sentence is entirely my fault.

I head straight for the corridor that leads to the detainment area. I stop just outside it and peer in, watching the men guarding the gate halfway along. Invisibility won’t work here, since I have to get through the gate. I need to project an illusion of someone else. Dad would be the best option, since he has the most reason to be here, and if somebody mentions it to him later, he’ll realize what I’ve done and play along. Anyone else—any guardian or councilor—would deny it, and that would raise suspicion, which would lead to people taking a closer look at surveillance recordings.

I imagine myself as Dad and walk confidently along the corridor toward the guards and the gate. One guard looks uncertainly at the other, but before either of them can say anything, I open my mouth—imagining Dad’s voice—and say, “I’m here to see my wife.”

“Of course, Mr. Larkenwood, it’s just that—”

“Linden?”

I manage to keep from flinching as someone behind me calls Dad’s name. I look around and find one of the Guild Council members approaching me with a frown creasing his brow. “You’re a little early, aren’t you? We’re supposed to meet in half an hour.”

Meet in … what? Alarm bells shriek inside my head, but I force myself to remain still instead of pushing past this man and running as fast as I can. Don’t panic. Maintain the illusion. SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT! “Uh, well, can you blame me?”

The councilor gives me an odd look, and I wonder if Dad’s voice sounded as strange to him as it did to me. “I suppose not,” he says eventually. “This whole situation must be very … difficult for you. I feel for you, Linden. But rules are rules, so you’ll need to wait up here until we’re ready for the transfer. I’ll send for you then.”

If I really were Dad, I’d probably be furious at the prospect of being sent for like some trainee, but in this moment, I want nothing more than to get out of here in case my father really does show up early. I give the man a brief nod, then turn and stride along the corridor, fighting the urge to run with every step I take. Once in the foyer, I head for the grand stairway and duck behind it before switching back to an invisibility projection. I slump against the wall beside the elevator, keeping my head down and allowing my heart rate to return to normal. I have no hope now of seeing Mom before she’s moved to Barton Prison. I didn’t realize it was happening so early. I should have woken up sooner and—

Miss Goldilocks?

I tense at the unexpected voice in my head. Then I sag against the wall once more as relief floods me with warmth. You’re still there, I say to Chase.

Yeah. Chained inside a dungeon cell, remember? I’m not going anywhere.

You know what I mean. I look past the stairway toward the entrance room on the other side of the foyer. Two guardians walk out, followed seconds later by another one. I decide to stay put for now. With everyone starting to arrive for work, it would be too easy for someone to accidentally walk into me in that small room. I tried to speak to you last night and this morning but you didn’t reply. I got a little worried.

I’m sorry. I think I slept for longer than usual. I must be getting used to these charming surroundings.

Sleep is good. I try not to think of the very non-charming surroundings Chase has told me about. I’m amazed he ever falls asleep at all.

I assume you wanted to talk last night so you could tell me how spectacularly well your first mission went, Chase says as I walk around the stairway to where the steps lead down instead of up.

How do you know it went well? Several trainees walk past the stairway and toward the elevator—toward me. Although I know they can’t see me, it makes me too nervous to stand right next to them as they wait for the elevator. I push away from the wall and stop at the top of the stairs that lead down.

You’re one highly determined individual, Chase says. I can’t imagine you leaving the baron’s house without that invitation.

My hand tightens on the banister as I peer down the stairs. Yes, well, it might have been a successful mission, but in case I was having any doubts about the universe sucking, I was once again proven wrong last night.

What happened? Chase’s question flashes into my head after barely a second’s pause.

You have to survive another nine days until the party, and the Guild is sending my mother to prison for two years.

His thoughts grow silent, but I sense his sinking spirits. Eventually he says, I’m so sorry about your mother.

I’m sorry about you. I breathe out a frustrated puff of air. I can’t keep still, so I begin descending the stairs. Every day that goes by takes us closer to whatever fate the Seelie Queen has planned for you. We have no idea when she’ll act. It could be tonight, it could be tomorrow, it … I stop myself before the claws of despair can get too tight a grip around my heart. I’m sorry. This isn’t helpful. It’s just … nine days seems like an eternity when your life is hanging in the balance.

Everything will be fine, Calla.

Will it? I continue down the stairs, my fingers tracing lightly across the banister’s carved patterns. I haven’t really thought about where I’m going, but Ryn’s suspicions nudge at the back of my mind, stirring up my curiosity about whatever’s going on behind locked doors down here.

Yes. I believe it will. Clearly your optimistic spirit has rubbed off on me.

I want to laugh at that because my optimism seems to have all but vanished these days. And as confident as Chase sounds, I know it’s only a front. I can sense him distancing himself emotionally, trying to keep from communicating what he’s truly feeling. I hesitate on the stairs as the quiet thought enters my mind, as it always does at some point during our mental discussions: What are they doing to you there?

Nothing I can’t handle.

You always say that.

It’s always true.

I shake my head as I continue downward. Will you ever tell me?

Perhaps, but not now. I don’t want to drown in the details of this dark and hopeless hell. I’d rather imagine your surroundings instead. Are you at the mountain?

Uh, no. I pass the level that houses the labs I had potions classes in while I was a trainee and keep going, my boots silent on the emerald green carpet covering the stairs.

You sound guilty, Chase says. What are you doing?

Just … some private investigation. I stop at the next level down and look around.

On what?

I’m not entirely sure, actually. I’m at the Guild. I came early in the hopes of seeing Mom so I could apologize for being the World’s Worst Daughter—

Not true.

—but I didn’t get here in time. And I’m sure there aren’t many daughters in the world who’ve caused their mothers to receive jail time, so I definitely qualify for that label. Anyway, now I’m sneaking around the lower levels of the Guild trying to find out what’s happening behind locked doors.

What locked doors?

I don’t know. I head along the corridor, eyeing the clean, plain doors. So much of the Guild is intricately patterned and lavishly decorated that it’s odd to find a section of it so stark. Some of the doors don’t even have handles. Ryn said he came across rooms he doesn’t have access to, which made him suspicious. Since he’s on the Council, he thought he should know about everything that goes on here, but apparently not.

Be careful, Chase warns. You don’t want to end up trapped somewhere.

I know, I know. I hold my breath as a guardian with a clipboard in her hand and a stylus tucked behind her ear walks out of a room up ahead and comes toward me. As she walks past, I relax—and then her footsteps stop. Terrified I’ll find her staring at me, I slowly look over my shoulder. But she’s facing a door—one of the doors without a handle—and frowning at her clipboard. After nodding to herself several times, she takes her stylus and waves it across the door. With a brief flash of light, the door vanishes. She walks forward. Without stopping to think, I turn and rush through the doorway after her into a room illuminated by dim blue light. I look behind me as a second flash registers at the edge of my vision. The door has reappeared.

What’s happening? Chase asks. No doubt he felt the burst of panic that flooded my chest at the sight of that closed door.

So … I’m inside a room I can’t get out of, I tell him, but it’s fine. I’m not trapped. I’ll just wait here until someone leaves or comes in. Then I take my first proper look around the room—and genuine panic tightens my chest. Four rectangular glass boxes are suspended in the air at eye level, and inside each one is a person. They’re motionless, their eyes closed, and the glass is so close—so close—to their faces, it’s almost touching them. I press my hand against my mouth and shut my eyes and remind myself that I’m not the one inside the box. And I’m not inside a cage. I’m free. It will be easy to walk out of this room.

The lake. Think of the lake. The quiet lapping of water and the warm, gentle breeze and the soft, lush grass between your fingers. The memory of Lumethon’s soothing voice takes my panic down to a manageable level within seconds. I open my eyes to the blue-lit room once more and remember how to breathe.

Calla? Chase calls. Are you okay?

Yes. Sorry. I was just … battling a bad memory. I tiptoe toward the nearest glass box, describing everything I see as I go. The woman inside is a faerie, judging by her two-toned hair. Her marking-free wrists tell me she isn’t a guardian. On the lower edge of the box, a small plaque tells me her name is N. Thornbough.

“Alrighty,” the clipboard lady murmurs to no one in particular. She’s on the other side of the room, standing at a counter that’s bare except for a tray of small spheres that glow faintly. “Let’s try this again.” She runs a finger down her clipboard, then selects a sphere from the tray. She approaches the other side of N. Thornbough’s box. After waving her hand near the side of the glass, a hole materializes, similar to the way faerie paths doorways melt into existence. She puts the sphere inside the box, where it floats without moving as she seals up the hole. With another wave of her hand, the sphere drops and smashes beside the woman’s arm. Nothing else seems to happen.

The woman sighs and returns to her clipboard. She makes a note before selecting another sphere. As she returns to N. Thornbough’s box, I step quietly around it and read the name on the next box. J. Monkswood. Also not a member of the Guild, and—

I tense at the sound of pounding on the door. “I’m coming in,” a voice shouts. A second later, the door vanishes and Councilor Merrydale rushes into the room, looking around. “Where is she? The hooded figure.”

I freeze beside J. Monkswood’s box as Clipboard Lady closes the second hole she just opened. “What hooded figure?”

“The guards in the surveillance room saw a hooded figure follow you in here just minutes ago. A woman.”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen anyone. Are you sure you’ve got the right room?”

“Of course. We both know you’re the only one working on this at the moment, so it had to have been you she followed.”

Crap, crap, crap. I take a careful step around the box as Councilor Merrydale moves further into the room, searching the floor, the walls, the ceiling with his eyes.

What’s wrong? Chase asks. I don’t answer.

“She’s still here,” Councilor Merrydale murmurs. “Only a handful of us have access to this room, so she couldn’t have got out unless you let her out.” He spreads his arms and moves closer, magic zapping at the tips of his fingers as he feels the air. “Close the door,” he says to Clipboard Lady.

CRAP! I skip around him, pressing myself briefly against the counter’s edge—the spheres wobble audibly in their tray—and dart toward the door. As Councilor Merrydale lunges for the counter, and Clipboard Lady dashes to the door, I just, just slip out in time.

And then I run. No point in wandering around casually if people in the surveillance room are already watching this passage.

Calla, please tell me what’s happening.

Just making a hasty exit, that’s all.

Up, up, up the stairs. I’m still invisible, so no one in the foyer bats an eye as I streak past them. Whoever’s watching on the other end of a surveillance bug will be too late to catch me. I dodge to the side to keep from running into the trainee who just walked out of the entrance room. As I hurry into the room and write on the wall with my stylus, the image I project onto the guard is one of a blank wall. Seconds later, I’m inside the safety of the faerie paths, long before any guardian can come chasing after me.

Made it, I tell Chase.

Feeling immensely relieved, I walk out of the darkness into Chase’s lakeside home in the human realm. I take only two steps across the open-plan kitchen and living area before noticing the figure standing by the wide kitchen window. I throw both hands up, automatically raising a shield of magic—but then I see the purple streaks of hair and the bundle of blankets in the woman’s arms as she turns to face me.

“Vi? What are you—”

“I need help,” she says, hugging her child more tightly to her chest. “Something isn’t right with Victoria.”