When he looks at me, there’s no malice in his expression, no teasing. He’s stoic. Confident. “You and your sister will present yourselves at the Spire by the twenty-fourth of October. If you fail to do so, your mother will be executed and a bounty will be placed on your heads.”
I’m reeling from his statement, so much that I can’t utter a word.
He returns to face the mayor. “See? Let her do what she will between now and then. Either way, the threat will be eliminated in the end.”
What threat?I want to ask, but I still can’t find my words.
“Fine,” Mayor Coleman says with a sneer. “You heard Councilman Duveau. The choice is yours.”
I swallow hard. “I already told you my choice. I’ll stay with my mother.”
Mr. Meeks faces me. “No, Miss Fairfield. Please allow me to spare you such humiliation.”
“If it’s humiliating for me, it can’t be any better for my mother.”
“But she wouldn’t want this for you, dear girl,” he argues. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do my best to protect you when she cannot.”
The tender look in his eyes crushes me. I always knew he was fond of me as his apprentice, but I never expected him to care so deeply. To seek to protect me like the father figure I always wished he were. My eyes move to Mr. Duveau. “My mother will be cared for? She won’t be harmed in prison if I stay with Mr. Meeks?”
“I’ll even make you a bargain,” he says, “that no harm will come to your mother while she’s imprisoned, so long as you promise to attend her trial. Do you accept this bargain?”
I’m caught off guard by his choice of words until I realize he thinks he’s making afaebargain. Because for some crazy reason no one will tell me, he thinks I’m fae. “Yes, I accept.”
“Where will you choose to await her trial?”
Before I can respond, Foxglove puts a hand on my shoulder, a weak smile tugging his lips. He lowers his voice to a whisper. “There’s the other option he mentioned. You could return to Autumn with me.”
Autumn. I could return to Bircharbor, spend two more weeks with Aspen. A distant trill of laughter falls on my ears, muffled through the hall that stands between here and the parlor. I know who it belongs to. Aspen’s new Chosen. His soon-to-be-wife. If I return to Bircharbor, it won’t be to a respite. Being there for two weeks means I’ll have to witness his wedding to Maddie Coleman. The thought alone sends bile rising to my throat.
“I’ll go with Mr. Meeks,” I say, “if I will be allowed to speak with my mother before she’s taken to the Spire.”
“No,” the mayor says at the same time as Mr. Meeks says, “Of course.”
Mr. Duveau rolls his eyes. “Let her see her mother.”
“You can visit her first thing in the morning,” Mr. Meeks says.
“Very well.” The mayor leans back in his chair, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Then it’s settled. My nieces are ready for their travels, ambassador.”
Foxglove’s face goes pale as he nods to the mayor.
Mr. Duveau turns on his heel, followed by Sheriff Bronson. Mr. Meeks gives me a warm smile, extending his arm to allow me to pass into the hall ahead of him. “I’m so glad I got here in time,” he whispers, walking by my side. “I don’t know what I would have done if I found my dear apprentice had been locked up before I arrived.” Again, his care surprises me. Even after these allegations, he still considers me his dear apprentice. However, the tenseness in his posture isn’t lost on me. He may be doing me a kindness, but he isn’t fully comfortable about it.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I was meeting with Henry—Mr. Duveau, that is—when the mayor’s guard came to inform him of your presence. Thank the stars we got here before Bronson took you away.”
We enter the parlor, and Maddie and Marie rise to their feet. “Are we leaving now?” Maddie asks with a haughty grin.
“Yes.” Foxglove’s answer is curt as he comes up behind me. He says nothing more as he brushes past the girls and out the door, not even bothering to help them with their things.
Maddie gapes after him, then snaps her fingers at a maid. “My bags. Now.”
A whimper draws my attention to the girl behind Maddie—her sister, Marie. The girl is a few inches shorter than Maddie, her hair a mousy brown, her dress far more modest and subdued than her companion. She was always the more studious of the two, kind where her sister is sharp. Practical, save for a naive sense of dreaminess about her. I’ve never seen her so flustered. Marie’s voice comes out small. “I don’t want to go.”
“Grow up,” Maddie mutters. “You know this is your duty.”
“But I...I’m not ready.” Her eyes fill with tears.
