“How do we get in?” I ask Mabon.
“That’s the easy part,” he says.
He takes me to the rusty gate he was stolen from, and my guts clench painfully. Even if I had kept my immortality, there wouldnever be enough time for my guilt and regret to fade. I’m going to bear this shame for all of my days.
Mabon says nothing. There is nothing in his demeanour that even hints that he is thinking about it. But he has to be.
When I betrayed him, he had already given me his immortality. He had decided I was the one. Whether he thought his feelings would be unrequited, I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know.
He loved me. I tricked him and handed him over to the Resistance.
My good intentions don’t mean fuck all. I don’t understand how he has forgiven me. I’m not even sure if he has, because how could he? Nobody, absolutely nobody, is that benevolent. Though if anyone was capable of it, it would be Mabon. He is fierce and dangerous, wild and unpredictable, but also a shining light. There is no one else like him in existence.
As we cross the garden and approach one of the side doors of the palace, Mabon turns to me and places a finger on his lips, over dramatically, like a small child would. I smile and nod my understanding, and together we slip inside the opulent surroundings of Buckingham Palace. Home of the malevolent and deadly fey court.
The air feels muted. There is a strange sensation of Mabon and I being in a bubble. Has he placed a spell over us? An invisibility one or something? He is back in the palace, so I presume he is free to use all his powers once more? If anyone senses him, they’ll sense he is here at court and that doesn’t give away any secrets.
This hallway is deserted, but invisibility is still a damn good idea. Mabon’s hair is perfect, I’ve done a good job of that, but the rest of him is in a right state. As for me, I’m a complete mucky mess. Anyone who sees us is going to have a ton of questions. Ones we won’t have answers for. Not believable ones anyway.
We drift through the palace like ghosts. Unseen, unheard, and unnoticed. If it is magic or simply the fact that fey nobles like to sleep in, I have no idea. Whatever it is, it works and we make it to Mabon’s rooms.
We step in through the ornate door and it swings shut behind us. Then we both freeze.
Osian is sitting at Mabon’s desk. The laptop is open and neat piles of paper are stacked on the dark wood of the desk’s surface.
Osian’s blue eyes are wide and he is staring at us.
A very fine tremor starts to run through me. He is on our side, isn’t he? We are not going to fall at the final hurdle.
His loose hair looks shocking to me now. Scandalous and obscene. Pity stabs through me, sharp enough to hurt. It is striking how my perception has changed. I can’t believe that not so long ago, unbound hair simply looked pretty to my eyes. Now I know what it means, I can’t unsee it.
Osian seems to rouse himself. He flows to his feet, glides around the desk, and drops into an elegant curtsy.
“Welcome home, Your Highness. I hope you had a lovely flowermoon.”
“Yes, thank you!” squeaks Mabon awkwardly.
He truly cannot lie to save his life and if the stakes were not so high right now, I’d be dissolving into fits of giggles.
“If you wish, I can give you my full report later? Your highness.”
“That sounds like a marvellous idea,” agrees Mabon, and he sounds a lot calmer.
He is extremely good at hiding his emotions. It is only outright lies that trip him up. And a strange burst of pride swells in my chest at that thought. Mabon is so lovely, he cannot lie. It is too against his nature.
Osian drops into another curtsy and then slips silently out of Mabon’s rooms. That was entirely too close for comfort.
Mabon lets out a heavy sigh. “I need to put some proper clothes on before anyone else sees me.”
I nod in agreement, and he hurries to his bathroom. The door shuts behind him, and just like that, I’m abruptly all alone. With nothing but my thoughts for company.
I’ve done it. Mabon is safely back in Buckingham Palace. My mission is a success. It feels surreal, and I can’t quite believe it. I’ve righted my wrong. Well, physically and practically at least. I’m not sure the emotional toil I inflicted could ever be addressed. But I have done what I can. The only thing that is within my power to do.
And now I’m back where it all began.
In the same rooms I was held a prisoner in.
Where I was a captive.
