I kneel and fight back tears. Lysetta’s beautiful hair has been shorn off haphazardly, and her face is scarred with jagged cuts. A light salve covers the stitches, but she won’t heal the same. Her beauty’s been stolen from her. How many times have I coveted her big eyes and slightly upturned nose? A tear rolls down my cheek as I take her hand. She doesn’t wake, and I suspect they’re both bespelled to sleep—or perhaps they’ve been given a potion. Either way, they are calm, resting. Rala’s face hasn’t been marked, but bandages peek from beneath her loose sleep shirt. I don’t disturb them. If Lucidia drained her power on them and Caltinius has been working nonstop to save them, I can’t imagine how badly they were injured to begin with. What happened to them? Did Lord Caroldon do this? The more I look at them, the more I know it had to be him.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper and bow my head in prayer to the Ancestors, begging them to heal the wounds. After a long while, I look up and take a deep, shaking breath.
Solano hid this from me, and then he let Caroldon leave the realm without a scratch on him. If the noble did this, why would Solano allow him to escape punishment? He makes a big show of calling me his treasure and treating me well, but he then allows nightlings to be mutilated and abused without consequence? Have I been played for a fool?
I stand, casting one more look at the injured females, then hurry away, keeping my steps quiet as I pass the snoring Caltinius, one of his pointed ears twitching.
Returning to my chambers, I resolve myself on the way—I have to address this with Solano. He owes me an explanation. Either I’m his treasure and changelings are on the same footing as all other creatures in the day realm, or he is continuing the legacy of the high fae crushing the other races beneath their rule. If it’s the former—and Ancestors, I want to believe him when he says it is—there is a way forward for us. If the latter … I grit my teeth and push into my chambers. Stripping quickly, I crawl into my own bed and drape one arm across my eyes. It’s dim in here, but sometimes I crave the total dark of a moonless night beneath the gnarled trees of the evening realm.
“Nightling,” someone whispers.
I sit up, my heart pounding. Brunilla sits in a chair in the corner. I didn’t even see her, she was so still. “What are you doing here?”
She shrugs. “I came to see you, but you were gone.” Standing, she moves closer and sits at the foot of my bed. “Things are moving quickly. I need to know if you are with us.”
“With who?” Irritation steeps my voice, and I realize I’m tired, so tired.
“The realm is on the verge of change, of shattering or being remade. Do you want a realm where all are equal, or do you prefer being a plaything for the king?”
I rub my eyes. “What are you saying? A rebellion?”
She blinks. “Is that so far-fetched?”
“It is when we’re already under threat from the seekers and King Sigrid.” I sit up and stare at her. “This is why you kept on about the high fae? Because you want to start an uprising?”
“I’m just one part of a much larger movement.” She leans closer. “You can be a part of it, too. You can help make this realm something better, something wonderful for all Daylanders.”
“I can barely keep myself out of trouble. There’s no way I can play spy for you.”
“Or maybe you enjoy being a consort?” She looks around the luxurious room. “Perhaps you like all the trinkets and attention the king gives you.”
“Solano isn’t bad.”
She blinks her huge eyes. “Who are you trying to convince?”
“I’d like you to leave.” My tone is hard.
She stands and gives me a nod. “I see.”
“I don’t know what you see, but I’m not going to be your spy. I will do what I can to try and gain equality for all races, but right now—” My voice turns more forceful. “Right now, Daylanders are being kidnapped and murdered by seekers, and the king is trying to defend your realm. He’s trying to save Daylanders—changelings and lesser fae alike—from whatever dark fate the seekers are carrying them away to, so if you truly care about the peoples of this realm, you will stop whatever it is you’re plotting and workwiththe king. Not against him.”
“His father—”
“He’snothis father. He’s already assigned Tritus to find all laws that discriminate against changelings and lesser fae so that he can strike them from the rolls. His high alchemist is a lesser fae, and his librarian—the person charged with keeping safeall the knowledge of the realm—is a changeling. He’s not a monster. You just haven’t given him a chance.” I realize I’m yelling and take a deep breath. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to rest.”
She backs away, her eyes wary. “Of course,my lady.”
I don’t miss her tone, but I’m too sad and exhausted to care. Lying down, I try to sleep, but I can’t, my mind half in and out of consciousness, and all the while I see the eyes of the seeker and Lysetta’s ruined face.
28
Solano
Washing the blood from my hands, I sit heavily as Dilrubin hurries into the sitting area with a tray of food and drinks. We’ve been at this for two days. Two days of blood. Two days of torture that would’ve turned my father’s stomach. But not mine. I will do everything in my power to stop the taking and killing of innocents.
Grimelda wanders in, her opal eyes glittering as she pulls a black cauldron from the ether and sets it in the fireplace behind me.
“If you don’t mind,” she calls.
