She shakes her head.
“Good. Will you do it?”
Her lower lip quivers. “If this is part of your game for pleasure, it is cruel and I beg you not to play it with me.”
My first instinct is to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, the way Lorelei often does with me. However, knowing the unwanted touch the pixie is forced to tolerate, the gesture seems inappropriate. Instead, I turn to my fire.
I pull the glove off my right hand, let my rage burn to my fingertips until a ball of fire ignites there, swirling purple, pink, and aqua. “This is no game, Mikaela. I am burning down the Briar House. Now I will ask you one more time. Will you do as I’ve requested?”
She swallows hard, hopeful tears swimming in her eyes. “I will.”
3
The city clock chimes three times, its bells echoing through the otherwise silent, sleeping city. With bated breath, I fix my eyes on the back door of the Briar House, the view clear from where I lurk in the shadows farther down the alley. Unwelcome thoughts threaten to shake my resolve; the chimes recall memories of the first time I heard them in the city and the fate that visit led me to. The alley, on the other hand, reminds me of Aspen’s lips on mine, the weight of him pressing me into the wall behind my back. One memory fills me with terror while the other teases me with joy. Both are distractions I can’t afford right now.
I refocus on my anger, my mission at hand. As the echo of the third chime fades, panic rises within me. What if something went wrong? What if Mikaela got caught or needed more time to spread the word? What if she didn’t take me seriously? There’s no way I can stay in this city any longer than I already have. It’s taken nearly everything I have not to succumb to the grief Grenneith stirs within me, and I know from experience I can only ride the wave of my rage so far before I suffer for it.
Just as I’m tempted to storm inside and drag each courtesan out of the building by force, the door swings open. My hand moves to my obsidian blade, ready to strike should danger be revealed behind the door. I release a heavy sigh as the figure emerges and moonlight illuminates a hint of lavender hair and green skin. I’m even more relieved when I see several other figures file into the alley behind her.
I move from my hiding place and approach the growing crowd. There are far more than seven, but not all of them appear to be fae, and more than a few look like servants. The pixie must have warned all the courtesans and staff, not just her own kind. I’m relieved to find this to be the case, for I don’t want to consider what I would have done if I knew anyone but Madame Rose was left inside to handle their own fate.
Mikaela’s eyes widen upon seeing me, as if she never truly expected I would follow through with my plan.
“Is this everyone?” I whisper, scanning the crowd. Mikaela nods, the fae huddled close to her, eyeing me with suspicion. Two of the females hold wrapped bundles in their arms, which I can only assume are their sleeping babies, and I’m surprised to see one of the fae courtesans appears to be male. Their human comrades hesitate only a moment longer before taking off into the night.
“What do we do now?” Mikaela asks.
“Now you run,” I say. “Get at least three blocks from here and wait for me to find you.”
One of the fae mothers—one with enormous black eyes and a squirrel-like face—squints at me through slitted lids. “Why should we even trust you? Why shouldn’t we run off on our own like the humans did?”
My gaze slides to the iron cuff around her wrist and the puckered red skin around it. “Do you have means to get that cuff off?”
She purses her tiny lips. “No.”
“Then you’ll need someone who can touch iron. Someone like me. Now go. I’ll find you.”
Mikaela turns toward the group and ushers them toward the mouth of the alley. I, on the other hand, turn away from it toward the Briar House.
With slow, silent steps, I creep into the open door and find myself in a dark kitchen. Aromas of rotting food and pungent perfume assault my senses the farther I step into the room. I remove my gloves and toss them to the ground. Raising a palm out before me, I shape my intent into a need for light. With that, a pale blue flame hovers over my hand, lighting my way as I leave the kitchen to enter a hall. I follow that hall until I find my destination: the foyer I was in mere hours ago.
My blue flame throws the crimson room under an eerie glow. I glare at the pillows, the privacy screens, the papered walls, recalling Mikaela’s scarred back, her mention of half-fae children being sold for experimentation. Such a thought can’t occur without memory of Mr. Meeks’ laboratory, the severed wings, Mr. Osterman’s dark room, the iron chains he had Lorelei strapped into. Lastly, for no more than a second, I allow myself to remember an iron bullet lodged between Mother’s eyes.
Just like that my blue flame turns a pink so dark it’s almost red.
I stalk the perimeter of the room, hand outstretched as my fire-laced fingertips brush the seat of the divan, the tassels of the pillows, the paper of the privacy screens. In a matter of seconds, the room has fallen beneath a beautiful, rosy inferno. Turning my back on my work, I exit the same way I came and return to the alley. Keeping my anger burning hot inside me, I close my eyes and take it to the Twelfth Court.
I wish the effect were immediate, the way it seems to be for fae like Aspen, Franco, and Nyxia. But quarter-fae that I am, and new to the ability to shift forms, I’m stuck seeking for a frustrating stretch of time. Violet fills my inner vision, turning the alley into swirling particles of light. I continue to turn ever inward, seeking my inner firefox, my instinct, my wild birthright.
Finally, calm settles over me. My body shrinks in on itself, while my senses grow sharper. Slim legs replace my four human limbs, each ending in dainty white paws. Sound becomes louder, the night more alive now that I can hear the bats fluttering in the sky, the distant hoot of an owl. Smoke tickles my nose, even though it has yet to enter the alley.
Fully in my firefox form, I sprint away from the Briar House and into the streets beyond.
* * *
As a fox,I find the fae with ease and guide them to the outskirts of the city just as the first siren begins to wail. Ignoring the sounds of alarm, I focus on the distant smell of dew-soaked grass, of towering trees. The woods. I traveled through them with Aspen, Foxglove, and Franco the first time I came to Grenneith, but even if I hadn’t, I’d be able to find them now. They call to me, with their sounds and aromas, with the sense of peace left in the absence of human houses and bustling cities.
Only once we are safely beneath the blanket of trees do we rest. That’s when I return briefly to my human form to melt the cuffs from each fae’s wrists and ankles. Without the iron bonds suppressing their powers, a few of the stronger fae are able to shift into their unseelie forms and head north to find the faewall on their own. The remaining four, plus the two babies, stay with me. This includes Mikaela and the fae male, who I think must have had his wings shorn as well, considering the way he absently rubs his shoulders.
