Shadow Faerie

Chapter 23

Twenty-Three

My feet hit the snow-covered ground of a flowerbed far below my balcony. I duck down immediately in case someone walking nearby heard me. With my heart still thrashing in my chest, I look around. I need to run. Not to run away—I haven’t yet figured out how to escape—but to run the way Val and I used to. As fast as possible, leaping and climbing and somersaulting. Forgetting everything except the ground slamming beneath our feet, the rough sting of bricks and the cold bite of metal against our hands. The exhilaration of successfully making it from point A to point B faster than the previous time.

I can’t do that here. These gardens don’t contain the right kinds of obstacles, and my long coat would be a bit of a hindrance. But I can at least run. And if someone sees me—if someone catches me—I can tell them a story they’ll have to believe: I’m practicing parkour. You’ve seen me do it before, right? You’ve seen me showing Princess Aurora some of the jumps and falls? Why am I doing it in the middle of a freezing winter night, you ask? Well, one needs to train in all conditions, don’t you think? You guards train in all conditions, don’t you?

After waiting another few moments to make sure no one’s walking nearby, I straighten and take off immediately. My legs race faster and faster. My arms pump at my sides, and my coat whips at the air as it billows out behind me. I swerve between the rose bushes and around the queen’s bower. I leap clear across one of the smaller pavilions and keep going. I run further from the palace than I’ve ever been before.

When my lungs begin to ache and my face is just about numb with cold, I finally come to a stop. Ahead of me is a circular section of paving—uncovered by snow, somehow—with a fountain at its center. Streams of water, flowing from a nymph’s hands and mouth into the pool below, are frozen in place. I walk to the edge of the pool as I catch my breath. Bandit, still a bird, flits by and lands on my shoulder. He shifts into something small and furry and climbs down my arm and into the pocket of my coat. I close my eyes for a moment, wracking my muddled brain for the words to a spell that will keep me warm. When I eventually find the words, I hold my hand up over my head, speak the words in a quiet voice, and allow myself to relax a little as warmth blankets my body.

Then I sit beside the pool.

And I try to make sense of my situation.

I can’t go through with this union. That much is clear. But how do I get away from here with my life intact? And what about Dash? I recognize now that Roarke wouldn’t simply let him leave, which means Dash is either a prisoner somewhere or he’s dead. I bury my face in my hands as I shudder. He can’t be dead, he can’t be dead, I silently repeat. It’s too awful to imagine him slaughtered in the same way that man in the cavern lost his life.

He isn’t dead, I tell myself again, more firmly this time. Roarke may be cruel and hate all guardians, but he likes to take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves. He’s aware that Dash knows far more than he should about the Griffin rebels. Roarke could use Dash to try to gain access to the rebels himself if he wants to get his hands on more Griffin Abilities. The more I think about this, the more I manage to convince myself that Dash must be alive. Where, though? I don’t know the location of any prisons in this world. Dash could be thousands of miles away.

After sitting quietly for a while, staring across the frozen garden and coming no closer to deciding what to do, I sense my Griffin Ability replenishing. I push my sleeve back and look at the bracelet; the ruby is almost completely red. When my power is ready to be used again, I’ll have to tell something to ‘open,’ which seems a useless command out here where there are no doors. I’ll have to tell a frozen rosebud to open or something.

Feeling uncomfortable, I shift my legs into a different position. Bandit wriggles inside my pocket, then crawls out and sits on my knee. “How are we going to get out of here?” I whisper to him. His only response is a twitch of his tiny mouse ear. Then he shifts into a dragonfly-type creature with a tiny humanoid face and glowing wings. “Pretty,” I murmur. He shifts again, flashing between several indistinguishable forms before becoming a dragon small enough to fit into my lap. “My new favorite form,” I say to him with a smile. “I think it’s incredible how you can—” A beat of silence passes as I realize what he’s telling me. “A dragon. We can get away on a dragon!” Bandit coughs, and a spark escapes his mouth. “You’re so clever,” I tell him, running one finger along his smooth, scaly back.

But my excitement fades as I consider all the obstacles I’ll need to pass in order to make this dragon plan succeed. I don’t know how to open one of those elevators in the ground that would carry me to the bottom of the pit. I don’t know how to unlock the room with the saddles and the staircase. I don’t know the spell to remove the shield layer preventing each dragon from flying away. And I don’t know if Imperia likes me enough to let me climb onto her back without Aurora or Phillyp around.

I check the ruby on my wrist again, then cast my eyes about for something I can open without drawing any attention to this area of the grounds. I wonder if there’s any point in being careful, though. I’m so far from the palace now that I doubt anyone would notice if I told a hole to open in the ground, or a tree trunk to—

“Wait a minute,” I murmur, interrupting my own thoughts. I can’t open any doors out here, but what about doorways? Faerie paths doorways, to be more specific. I’ve heard repeatedly that faerie paths are inaccessible from most parts of this palace and its grounds, but Aurora was always referring to the kind of accessibility one would gain with a stylus. Perhaps, if I turn my thoughts toward the faerie paths when I say the word ‘open,’ a doorway will form.

Though I’ve still got another few minutes before I can use my Griffin Ability, I move Bandit off my lap and stand. A thrill sends blood pumping faster through my veins. This might actually work. I might escape the Unseelies tonight. Bandit becomes a tiny lizard and scurries up the edge of my coat. He climbs back into my pocket as I bounce up and down in anticipation.

And it’s then that I hear an odd sound. A wail, almost. A person crying out. I stop bouncing and look around, but I don’t see anyone. I walk slowly around the fountain, peering into the garden around me, seeing little more than glistening white snow.

Until I almost trip over something.

Looking down, I find a metal circle roughly the size of a manhole cover embedded in the paving. It has a hinge on one side, which is what I almost tripped over, and at its center is a sold metal ring. A trapdoor? I crouch down and take a closer look at the symbol stamped into the metal. It’s a simple outline of two hands bound together at the wrists. I get onto my knees and lower my ear close to the cold metal. I hear another cry, and as I straighten, I remember something Aurora mentioned in passing. Something about Yokshin showing her his experiments in a prison. Just the small one we have here, she’d said.

My thoughts turn immediately to Dash. If he wasn’t allowed to leave, and he wasn’t killed, then he could very likely be somewhere beneath this trapdoor. I hesitate for a moment, then pull my coat sleeve down over my hand and take hold of the metal ring. I pull gently, then a little harder. But the trapdoor doesn’t budge. My survival instincts tell me to stay the hell away from this prison, but my concern for Dash keeps me frozen to the spot. I try the simple unlocking spell Aurora taught me, but that makes no difference either.

A powerful magical command, however, might force it to open.

I begin shaking my head as soon as the thought occurs to me. I stand and take a step away from the trapdoor. I can’t use my Griffin Ability for this. I have to open the faerie paths instead. The word ‘open’—this one ambiguous compulsion command I’ve been given—could be my only way out of here.

But what about Dash, my conscience prods. You know he’s probably down there. You can’t leave him behind.

“Dammit,” I mutter. And then: “Wait.” I blink as something that should have been obvious occurs to me: I can do both. It won’t take much of my power to open a faerie paths doorway. I’ll make sure to hang onto whatever power is left once I’ve given my ‘open’ command, and I’ll use it to unlock the trapdoor. But then … the faerie paths doorway won’t stay open for long. It’ll close if I don’t have some part of my body keeping it open, which means I can’t go beneath the trapdoor to find out if Dash is there. Or … could I tell the doorway to remain open for a long time? For as long as it takes me to get back to it? Perhaps that would work, but if it requires a lot of magic, it might use up all my Griffin power in one go. Then I’ll just have to forget about the trapdoor and leave on my own.

And leave Dash behind, my conscience whispers.

But I don’t know that for sure. Dash might be back at home, completely fine. I have no way of knowing where he is, and now I’m about to risk imprisoning myself beneath the ground.

No. I won’t do it. I’m not a hero; I’m a survivor. That’s what I’ve always been, and Dash knows it.

I turn my back on the trapdoor as I sense my Griffin magic simmering beneath the surface of my control. I can’t waste this opportunity. I need to get back to Mom. She’s always been my priority, and I need to find another way to help her now that the Unseelie plan has fallen through. If it turns out that Dash never made it home, I’ll tell the Griffin rebels that he’s probably here, and they can come and rescue him.

And you’ll be putting even more lives in danger, which is exactly what you were trying to avoid when you came here.

I push my guilt aside and look at the ruby once more. The tiniest sliver—so thin I can barely see it—still needs to be filled. I watch it and wait. And wait. I imagine the faerie paths. I picture myself focusing intently on them as I give my one-word command.

Then I feel the tingling, the magic crawling up my spine, my voice preparing to change. I whip around and point at the trapdoor. “Open,” I gasp before the horrible, selfish person that I am at my core can make me change my mind.

With a subdued grinding sound, the trapdoor slowly swings opens.