Aspen throws his hands in the air. “Oh, but you can maintain your winged form no problem.”
Franco takes a challenging step toward Aspen. “Shifting is in my blood. I don’t have to use much magic to do it. Even you know that, Stag King.”
Aspen looks like he’s on the verge of showing the prince exactly what he knows about shifting, but instead, he clenches his jaw and faces me. “It’s your choice, Evie. I know you want to see your mother, but I’d rather you didn’t risk your life withhim,” he tosses the prince a scowl, “as your only lifeline.”
When his eyes return to mine, I see the concern in them, rendering me speechless. Just then, chimes sound from the city center, and I don’t need to count to know there are eleven. Once the echo recedes, I square my shoulders with resolve. “I’m willing to take the risk.”
At that, Franco shudders and spouts a pair of enormous black wings from his back. A few stray feathers protrude from his neck and shoulders, but the rest of him remains unchanged. He winks and extends his arm. “Let’s do this.”
“You said you’d wait ten minutes,” Aspen growls.
“Yes, but I’m not going to waithere. We need to get deeper into the shadows before someone spots us.”
Aspen’s jaw shifts side to side. “Fine. I’ll keep watch here and make sure no one heads your way.”
Foxglove wrings his hands. “I suppose I should stand guard around the front of the building.”
Aspen nods, then leans against the building’s wall, arms crossed over his chest, but his gaze remains on me. My eyes are glued to his for several breaths until I force myself to take Franco’s arm.
We round the back of the building and wait beneath the boughs of a well-manicured tree, my pulse racing with every minute that passes. Finally, Franco leans in and whispers, “It’s time.”
I let out a shaking breath and Franco pulls me close, wrapping his arms around my waist. I don’t look at him as I put my arms around his neck.
“Ready?”
I nod.
We launch into the sky, Franco’s enormous wings beating at the cool night air. I suppress a shout as we rise higher and higher, shutting my eyes against the ground falling farther beneath me. My stomach dips in a way that makes me fear I might be sick.
It only takes a few seconds for us to gain enough height before I feel our weight tip to the side. Franco tucks his wings around us, and I open my eyes to see us dart through a window and into a long, narrow hall. With a lurch, he brings us to a skidding halt, just in time to avoid smashing us into the wall at the other side.
“I’m glad that worked,” he whispers while I put a hand to my spinning forehead.
Franco nods toward an unmarked door. We enter it into a dim room lined with cells. Musty aromas of dirt and unwashed bodies flood my nostrils, but like Franco said, there’s only one prisoner on this cell block.
Franco gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ll stand guard outside the door.”
Once alone, I make my way to the occupied cell to find my mother sleeping on a cot. Like Mr. Duveau promised, she seems to have been given decent amenities. Trays of half-eaten food and a cup of tea rest on a simple table, while Mother’s sleeping form is draped in thick wool blankets.
A sudden presence at my side makes me jump. Aspen stands next to me, and it takes me a moment to understand how that could be. He’s only here through the Bond, his violet aura rippling around him. “I’m not going to leave you alone,” he says, his voice a casual drawl. However, his expression betrays the true concern that his tone tries to mask.
“I thought you wanted to stand guard?” I whisper.
“I’m getting better at doing...whatever this is. I can sort of see both places at once now. This way, I can actually warn you if I notice anything concerning from my vantage on the ground.”
I nod, his nearness a steadying comfort. It’s almost enough to help me forget the strain of the last few days.
His eyes flash from me to Mother. “I’ll give you your privacy.” He hesitates as if he wants to say more but makes his way to stand by the door.
I return my attention to my mother and press myself close to the bars. “Ma.”
She stirs, blinking at me with a furrowed brow before she springs to her feet. “Evelyn! You’re all right.”
I can’t stop the tears that flow as she approaches the bars. It breaks my heart to have bars between us, twice now, but knowing she’ll soon be free serves as a minor comfort. In a matter of hours, she’ll be out of here.
Then one of three options will prevail: we’ll either be allowed to return to Faerwyvae, exiled, or...dead.
“You really came back,” she says. There’s a note of disappointment in her tone. “Part of me hoped you wouldn’t. That you’d return to Faerwyvae and never look back.”
