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The next morning came before anyone was ready. The princess thought she could have slept another ten years and still woken up tired, aching for rest. But there were things to be done, places to go, and questions that needed answers. Starting with the curious behavior of the fae.
“What are you doing?” she asked in alarm, staring across the tent at Ellanden.
Cosette was gone, Asher was still asleep, and the prince was sitting in the middle of the remaining blankets—shirtless, staring down at his bare chest.
He looked up with a start, flushing as he hurried to cover himself. “Nothing; why do you—”
“Are you wearing pants?”
“Of course I’m wearing pants,” he snapped, eyes darting outside as if worried they might be heard. “I was just...it doesn’t matter. How did you sleep?”
“...fine.” She pushed to a sitting position, fighting back a smile.
While most women would have lost themselves in a full-on swoon to see the prince of the fae topless beside them, she could only revel in his embarrassment. She’d known the man for a long time. There weren’t many things that could make him blush.
“Do you need me to step outside?” she asked in a whisper. When he threw her a questioning look she held up her hands, a portrait of innocence. “I know it’s been a long time since you’ve had a moment to yourself. Maybe you’d like a little...privacy?”
It took him a second to understand.
Then he threw a blanket at her with a grin.
“I was seeing if I looked any different,” he admitted, raking back his hair before buttoning up his shirt. “Ten years is a long time. After we left the cave...I wondered if we had aged.”
The princess leaned back on her hands, thinking it over in surprise. Last night she and Asher had discussed the possibility of simply dying sooner than they might have before, but it had never occurred to her that whatever was taken might have had an immediate effect.
“Do I look older to you?” he continued curiously, staring through a tangle of ivory hair. “Maybe twenty? Twenty-five?”
The princess started shaking her head, then stopped herself with a smile. “You mean...do you look older than Cosette?”
Now that some of the bigger revelations had fallen into place, the smaller ones were making an appearance. Unlike the others, who’d spent the bulk of their childhoods alone, the two fae had grown up together in Taviel. While they were technically cousins, their relationship had a decidedly sibling feel. The little sister and the older brother. Destined to remain that way for all eternity.
Only now...they were both sixteen.
Ellanden’s eyes flashed to hers, but he gave nothing away. Instead he unlaced the top of his tunic, pointing to a faint line running across his chest.
“Is that a scar?”
She rolled her eyes with a grin, but leaned closer to look.
“Do you know how difficult it would be to scar immortal skin—”
“Just tell me,” he interrupted irritably, continuing his examination. “Also, there’s a chance I might have grown a beard...”
Doubtful. Very doubtful.
“That isn’t a scar, it’s an indentation from your blanket.”
There was an almost disappointed silence.
“And the beard—”
“You never had a beard, Ellanden. You look exactly the same.”
He pursed his lips, debating whether to argue, then decided to let it go. “It’s a strange feeling,” he murmured softly, glancing over at Asher’s sleeping body before returning to her face. “To have been kept in a place for so long, but have no real memory of what happened. He could have hurt us. He could have starved us. He could have let us take occasional walks outside—we’ll never know.” He lifted his fingers to his ivory locks, still falling in neat waves down to his chin. “He could have cut our hair...”
The princess stared in silence. It was a strange way to end the list, yet it summarized her feelings completely. The time in the cave had brought with it a sense of violation the friends were only beginning to understand. One that would come in waves, revealing itself over time.
But that time would have to wait. There were things to be done that morning.
As if on cue, Asher pulled in a deep breath and opened his eyes. Staring at the ceiling for a moment before catching sight of his friends. He sat up swiftly, giving each a little smile.
“No bars.”
Evie glanced at him, then suddenly understood. His recurring nightmare. That they’d awaken only to find themselves still lying on the floor, gazing out through the slatted walls of the cage.
She flashed a tight smile in return, trying not to act as disconcerted as she felt. “No bars.”
The vampire peeled back the blankets, throwing a questioning glance at the fae. “Are you wearing pants?”
Ellanden looked up in exasperation. “Of course I am. Why does everyone keep—”
“He’s fussing,” Evie interrupted authoritatively. “Dreaming about some hypothetical beard.”
The fae regarded her coldly. “I may have no memory of what happened, but I’m fairly certain you and I didn’t get along.”
Asher pushed to his feet in between them, shaking out his dark hair. “I’m fairly certain the sorcerer kept the two of you sedated. Otherwise he would have strangled you in frustration long before your cousin came to call...”
And speaking of...
There were footsteps outside the tent—soft, but fast-approaching. The three friends tensed automatically, their bodies remembering a dread their waking minds could not, then relaxing at the same time. The fae was humming under her breath. She’d always done that, since she was a child.
Ellanden was dressed in a flash, ducking under the flap to meet her. The others were just a step behind, having only the clothes they’d been wearing when they fell into the wizard’s trap.
I wonder what happened to our weapons, all the provisions that Michael left. Evie thought wistfully of the bundles of supplies they’d left in the woods. I wonder if Therias destroyed them.
While the others had been sleeping, the fae had been busy. The forest around them had been checked, then checked again for unwelcome visitors. Five squirrels and an undersized deer had been skinned and were drying slowly on the fire. Two buckets of river water lay ready and waiting by the stone circle, along with a stack of extra kindling in case the friends decided they needed more time.
“Good morning,” Ellanden said nervously, still unsure where the two of them stood. His eyes flickered quickly around the campsite. “You must have gotten up early.”
In truth, the girl had never gone to sleep.
Their eyes met briefly across the clearing. He flashed her a tentative smile. Then she picked up a dagger and hurled it straight at his face.
Holy crap!
The friends dashed forward, but Ellanden caught it with an inch to spare. Eyes widening in astonishment at the silver blade before drifting past it to his cousin’s face.
She nodded curtly. “I see you’re feeling better.”
He froze a second longer, still trying to catch his breath. “Uh...yes. Thanks.”
Without another word, she continued on with her chores. Leaving the others standing in a stricken huddle by the tent, the deadly blade still gripped in the fae’s hand.
He glanced down at it again, unable to reconcile what had just happened, then shrugged quickly when he felt his friends’ watchful eyes.
“At least she didn’t ask about my pants.”
* * *
IT WAS A STRANGE START to what would turn out to be an even stranger morning.
Still fighting shell-shock and having no immediate plans themselves, the friends fell into step alongside the young fae. Tending to the fire, helping to prepare the next day’s food, even washing out the pots and pans in the nearby river. There was a lot to say, but not much talking. At one point, Evie made the mistake of asking why the young princess was in the woods all by herself.
The look she received in return silenced all further questions.
The simple answer was that things had changed. Everything, it seemed. The only thing that remained the same was the friends themselves—still frozen a decade earlier.
But the realm was a different place than the one they’d left behind.
And there was no greater evidence of this than its last remaining princess.
The girl Evie remembered was a little doll—dimples in her cheeks, infectious tinkling laughter, running after her older cousins with braids and ribbons strung through her hair. That same little girl had discovered combat boots and travelled around with a giant chip on her shoulder.
But it wasn’t just the newfound independence or the fact that she was able to shoot moving targets out of the sky... Cosette was indifferent, almost cold.
Twice, she’d asked about the wizard. Both were nothing more than cursory questions acknowledged with a silent, grim nod of her head. The only time she showed a sign of life was when Ellanden admitted they remembered almost nothing of their time in captivity. That they’d sat around the cheerful bonfire only a few hours after seeing Michael, all the horrors that had been lost in a blur of dark enchantment emerging only a few shocking bits at a time.
She’d asked about what had been done to them—that had been her second question. At first, it looked like she didn’t want to. But the friends got the impression she wasn’t exactly one to shy away from hard truths. When they’d told her about the sorcerer’s dastardly plan to steal his own immortality, a look of pure fire flashed through her eyes. She made a compulsive movement, as if ready to storm back to the cave herself, before turning back to the fire with a quiet sigh.
“It’s a shame,” she murmured, “that we only got to kill him twice.”
Strangely enough, it was that dark sentiment that served as a launching point, a precarious bridge for future reconciliation. A shame that we only got to kill him twice. While the friends certainly hadn’t been in a position to help, the service had clearly been done in their favor. As was the girl’s seething anger that the deed hadn’t been performed with a more vengeful sort of glee.
But far as they might come, there was an underlying bitterness that proved an impasse every time. A quiet resentment of all that had happened, one that came in waves but never seemed to stop.
When Asher had asked about those first few weeks after their departure, the answer was as simple as it was brief. Forces from each of the remaining kingdoms had assembled to search for them, a united effort unmatched by any other save for times of war. With the young monarchs at the helm, driven half-mad by anger and grief, they’d scoured every inch of the five kingdoms—killing many, imprisoning many more, coming no closer to finding the truth.
When Ellanden asked if any semblance of the search continued, if she’d ever taken part in it herself, she’d flatly denied it. Claiming to have stumbled upon them by mistake, on the trail of a monster she’d been hunting for some time. Later, when he asked if she still needed to find it, she shook her head, mumbling that it no longer mattered.
And so it continued. Hours passed. The morning retreated into a balmy afternoon before finding itself on the cusp of evening once more. Although none of them mentioned the reason, the little consortium didn’t appear to be going anywhere. While Cosette had clearly been moving in a great hurry, after the impromptu reunion her travels had come to an abrupt stop. Instead of making any mention of what might happen next, she contented herself with the camp itself. Meticulously cleaning, organizing, and reassembling each piece of gear. Hunting and preparing enough wild game to sate half a battalion. Steeling herself with secret looks and bracing breaths, while the others silently followed her example, ignoring their questions and focusing on the work instead.
It wasn’t until the sun had begun to slip behind the trees that Evie looked across the fire in surprise, blurting out an incredulous question. “You took the tea?”
The others followed her gaze to where Cosette was sitting by herself on the grass, carefully examining the curling leaves before slipping them into a leather pouch.
“I took several things from the wizard,” she replied simply.
Evie and the others shared a quick look—on the verge of simply begging for forgiveness and strangling her by the neck.
“But the tea,” the princess insisted. “It’s the same brew he used to make his spell—”
“It wasn’t the tea itself,” Cosette interrupted calmly, “it’s whatever he put in it. The tea itself is damn useful. And rare. It sates any sense of hunger—good on nights you can’t find game.”
All the princess’ clever retorts died on her tongue as she looked the slender girl up and down with concern. Did that happen often? Were there many nights the wandering princess wasn’t able to find game? And why was it even a question? Why was she out here on her own? Unsupervised and unprotected? Where were those grieving parents? Where were the royal escorts? Never in a million years would she and the others have been allowed to travel in such a way on their own.
Hence their unfortunate need to escape...
Asher was famously hard to read, and whatever Ellanden might have been thinking he was keeping it to himself. Plagued as he was by the guilt of leaving, the headstrong prince was doing everything in his power to give his little cousin all the space and brooding she might need.
He’d been quieter than the rest of them, always doing more work than was his share. It wasn’t until that very moment, when Cosette peeled back her sleeve with a wince, that he sharpened to sudden attention—leaning towards her from the other side of the fire.
“You’re hurt,” he said suddenly. “What happened?”
The girl’s dark eyes never left the wound in the hollow of her shoulder. A crimson shadow against her pale skin that even a full day later was still trickling blood.
“You don’t remember?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm. “Your precious sorcerer tried to set me on fire. Not the most hospitable welcome I’ve ever received...”
Before he could answer or even get to his feet she ripped off a piece of fabric, tying it around the arm using nothing but a free hand and her teeth. She winced again as it tightened, then pulled quickly away when Ellanden crossed the clearing and knelt by her side.
“I’ve got it,” she muttered when he lifted his hands to help.
His face tightened with a look of physical pain, but she never saw it. The girl had made an involuntary habit of never looking directly into his face. But the wound itself raised some interesting questions—the most obvious being: how did any of them get out of that cave?
“How did you escape the sorcerer’s magic?” Asher asked softly.
The others tensed automatically, while Cosette lifted her eyes in silence.
“I don’t remember much of what happened,” he admitted, staring with a thoughtful frown into the fire as the flaming reflection danced across his face. “But when he handed you the tea, when he ordered you to drink it...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I was given that command many times myself. I obeyed it every time.”
The question trailed off between them as Cosette visibly hesitated.
After a few seconds Ellanden waved it off protectively, shooting her a sideways glance. “She doesn’t have to answer if she doesn’t want to—”
“Yes she does, Ellanden,” Asher answered with a touch of impatience. “We’re out in the middle of the woods, with no clue how she found us and no clue what’s going to happen next. The only thing we know for sure is that ten years passed, then your cousin—who was recently playing in the castle nursery—walked into the cave and single-handedly took down a sorcerer by beating him at his own craft. I understand the need for silence, but at some point we do have to talk.”
There were few things more inescapable than the logic of a vampire.
Except perhaps the anger of a fae.
Ellanden pushed to his feet, deliberately moving back to his seat across the fire. His eyes shot once or twice to Cosette, and when she didn’t move he held to his original plan.
“Drop it, Asher.”
“You can’t just—”
“I said drop it.”
The vampire bit the inside of his lip, trying to rein in his frustration, then shot an entreating look to the princess instead. She rolled her eyes but leaned forward, repeating the question.
“How did you escape the sorcerer’s magic?”
Ellanden shot her the same look of warning, but Cosette leaned back with a sigh. She lifted a hand almost absentmindedly to rub at her wounded shoulder, gazing numbly at the fire.
“You’ve been gone a long time...”
Another cryptic response. Another close to a barely-started conversation. But this time, the princess and the vampire were on the same side. Even Ellanden was wavering, convincing himself that only with a clear understanding could he ever hope to protect her. But before any of them could press the issue further, there was a sudden rustling in the distant trees.
The others leapt to their feet, but Cosette’s eyes snapped shut with a quiet groan.
“Put those fangs away,” she instructed, throwing another log on the fire. “It’s a friend. Just don’t tell her anything about the sorcerer. And don’t...don’t mention my arm.”
The friends shared an incredulous look as the noise escalated. Whoever was approaching, they were clearly making no effort to temper the sound. The rustling gave way to walking, which gave way to stomping, which grew so loud and obtrusive the princess had trouble reconciling that it was a single person and not a drunken battalion marching through the trees.
At last, when they could take the suspense no longer, the ocean of ferns parted and a lovely girl stepped into the clearing. A girl who made all three friends pull in a sudden breath.
Enormous green eyes, tangles of light brown hair, a heart-shaped face with a faint dusting of freckles across the nose. They’d seen the face before. They’d never be able to forget.
They just couldn’t possibly fathom what she was doing here.
Ellanden was the first to speak, though he looked as though he was caught in the same dream as the rest of them. His face was pale and his faltering voice barely made it across the fire.
“...Freya?”
