Aspen, I whisper down the Bond.Aspen, I know where we are.
I continue to take in the rows of tents, my eyes falling on the one at the far left bearing the scrollingBcrest of mainland Bretton alongside a second symbol—the winged staff denoting a place of medical practice.
Now I know how Dahlia received such quick care from the iron injury I gave her. The Renounced have allied with the humans. And not just any humans. Soldiers from the mainland, sent by King Grigory—the King of Bretton—himself. But to what end?Two humans for thousands.
Movement catches my eye, sending my heart hammering against my ribs, but it’s just Aspen, violet aura rippling around his form. He heard my summons.
Storming over to me, he grasps my shoulders in his warm hands. “Where are you?”
“Varney Cove in Eisleigh,” I rush to say.
He repeats it under his breath, then looks around, as if committing each sight to memory. When his gaze falls on the army camp, he mutters a string of curses. “I’m coming for you, Evie.” Without another word, he’s gone.
I’m left blinking at the place he was, hoping against hope that he now has all the information he needs to use the Chariot. Then again, perhaps I should have waited until I got us farther from the camp. If Aspen comes here, it will be to the heart of a viper’s nest, surrounded by a human army with human weapons. Weapons that could end his life in an instant.
At least the camp is asleep,I remind myself, willing my quavering breaths to go silent.
Amelie trembles at my side. “We should run,” she whispers. “Why are we still here?”
“Aspen’s coming for us.” Before the words finish leaving my mouth, another flash of movement enters my periphery. My pulse races, fueling a spark of hope. But it isn’t Aspen that’s returned. It’s a human guard, marching along the inside of the wall, a rifle held against his side.
I grip the hilt of my makeshift dagger tighter, wishing I knew the first thing about creating an invisibility glamour. Perhaps another kind of glamour could work. If I can lock his gaze when he sees us—
There’s no time. Before I can react, his rifle is leveled straight at us. “Prisoners escaped!” His voice rings out, shattering the silence of the night. Movement erupts in the camp, soldiers rushing from their tents while more guards close in from their previously unseen posts. Footsteps pound the stone behind me, spilling out from the lighthouse tower. I flash my dagger toward one threat then another while Amelie presses in closer. Closer. The barrels of countless rifles form a ring around us.
One dagger against an army. Not the best odds. Even if Aspen were to suddenly appear, even if he brought all the fae the Chariot could transport, could we even make it out of this alive?
“Evie,” Amelie cries.
“I know,” I bark under my breath. “I’ll—”
“Who is that?” She nudges my left side, prompting me to whip my attention toward the lighthouse. There the soldiers have parted to reveal a smug-faced Queen Dahlia. But that’s not who Amelie was inquiring about. For standing before the Summer Queen is my greatest foe.
Mr. Duveau.
29
“Evelyn Fairfield,” Mr. Duveau says, taking a step closer.
Heat courses through my body at the sight of my mother’s murderer. I grit my teeth against the urge to lunge for him, to plunge my blade into his heart. As much as the thought fuels my fire, I know I wouldn’t live long enough to see it through. Not with all these rifles and armed soldiers surrounding us.
Instead, I burn him with a scowl. “Hearing you say my name doesn’t quite have the same ring to it anymore. Do you know what I mean?”
His expression darkens, but he maintains his composure. He seems somewhat changed since I last saw him, as evidenced by the dark circles beneath his lower lashes, his bloodshot eyes, the slight dishevelment of his hair. Even his formerly slim mustache has grown unruly, stray hairs brushing the snarl of his upper lip. Keeping his eyes on me, he speaks to Dahlia through gritted teeth. “I thought you said she was contained.”
“She was,” the Summer Queen says, tight lipped as she eyes me with clear disdain. “How did you get out, girl?”
I turn my glare on her. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
She opens her mouth, but a human guard rushes up the stairs from the underground cells and whispers something in Mr. Duveau’s ear. Dahlia’s eyes widen at whatever she overhears, but the councilman only looks amused.
“It seems you’re up to your mother’s tricks,” he says to me.
“My apologies, Councilman Duveau,” Dahlia says, a pleading quality in her tone. I’m shocked to see her debase herself even slightly before a human. “I will have her returned to her bindings at once—”
“No need,” Mr. Duveau says sharply. “I know how to make her obey.”
I brace myself, squeezing the dagger tighter as he reaches beneath his jacket and withdraws a familiar weapon. My eyes lock on the barrel of the revolver as he cocks the hammer. I’ve faced this weapon before, but without the power of his name under my control, I know I can’t still his hand the way I once did. My heart races as I assess the distance between us, trying to calculate how fast I could throw my makeshift blade before he can fire the gun. Perhaps if I wield air to direct its momentum, ensuring a direct hit to—
