She rolls her eyes. “We won’t call me a hostage. I’ll come under the pretense of wanting to see him. My presence will merely be a veiled threat.” Her grin glows with mischief as she presses her palms together. “Please, Your Majesty. Let me be useful for something.”
I look to Aspen, who shakes his head as if to say he’s not the one to ask. I’m probably not the best to ask either, for as much as I want to protect the girl, I must admit her presence could provide just the right amount of collateral to ensure the mayor behaves.
“All right,” I say, much to Marie’s morbid delight. “You can act as my sort-of-hostage.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she says, standing straight. I almost expect her to salute. “I’ll be the best hostage you could ever hope for.”
I shake my head in amusement. Never in all my days could I have expected to hear those words. “Go find Dune,” I say. “Since he’s so fond of delivering messages, let him take my response back to your uncle.”
37
Three days later, after sundown, Aspen, Marie, Dune, and I make our way through the Spring axis toward the wall near Sableton. Dune lights the way, the blue flame hovering over his tail creating a soft glow as he pads quietly across the forest floor. Marie nearly skips with excitement, her enthusiasm unhampered by the exertion of our journey. Luckily, our travels haven’t been too strenuous, for Queen Tris granted us permission to transport our party directly to her Spring axis from my Fire axis, something I previously hadn’t known we could do.
Marie lifts her face to the night sky, arms spread out before her as she breathes in deeply. “I could get used to this. Everything smells like cherry blossoms in the Spring Court.”
“Enjoy it now,” I say. “Once we cross the wall, it will be very much fall.” I tug my newly made cloak around my shoulders in anticipation of the cool weather that awaits. I can already see the telltale fog that lines the Faerwyvae side of the faewall, telling me we’ll reach our destination in a matter of minutes. My heart races at the thought.
I feel Aspen’s gaze on me, and I turn my head to meet his eyes. “Are you ready for this?” he asks.
I nod, although I know I can’t hide the trepidation I feel. Despite the mild weather of the Spring axis, my nerves have me sweating. None of us know what to expect from this meeting with Mayor Coleman. His reply to my acceptance of his offer to meet was brusque at best. I pat my hip and the dagger strapped around my waist—my newest blade forged from the molten river. It may not be as elegant as my obsidian blade was, or the daggers I took from the weapons room, but it is far more carefully crafted than the one I made at Varney Cove.
We slow our pace as the wall of fog draws closer. Only when we are beneath its blanketing quiet does Marie’s enthusiasm begin to wane. “What is the purpose of the fog?” she asks, wrapping her cloak around her.
“Privacy,” Aspen says. “To keep humans from crossing the wall.”
“Not that it kept them out completely,” I add, remembering Mr. Osterman—the Butcher of Stone Ninety-Four—and his vile traps. Even Amelie and I once crossed it when we were younger, driven by a bold dare made by Maddie Coleman. That was a night that changed everything, solidifying my hate for the fae, and my distrust for my mother. My heart sinks with regret. I was wrong about so many things back then.
With the thought comes a chasm of grief, but I allow it to open beneath me, let my body sink into it. Tears prick my eyes and I breathe past the lump in my throat. Instead of swallowing me whole, the grief washes over me, moves with me and through me. Then its power diminishes, turning it into more of a companion than a threat.
Aspen’s fingers find mine, and I catch his reassuring smile through the dense fog.
“Foxglove told me the fae are extending the wall around Faerwyvae to protect us from human attack,” Marie says. “Is that true?”
I mutter a curse. I really need to have a chat with Foxglove about spreading gossip. Even when it’s true. “Well, we were.”
“We still are,” Aspen says, and I flash him a surprised look. I hadn’t realized the efforts were continuing now that the Parvanovae is gone. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering not everyone else reacted to the theft with the same level of apathy as I did. And to be honest, I haven’t had much communication with the other royals since then. We’ve had only one meeting of the Alpha Alliance since our return from Varney Cove, and that was primarily to present Dahlia to the others so she could make her surrender known. When talk turned to the subject of the Parvanovae, and Flauvis began growling insults over my incompetence, I left the meeting. But not before tossing him a rude gesture.
Aspen continues. “The process is slow going, but now that the Renounced have been defeated, King Aelfon has been able to coordinate building efforts in all courts.
“To what end, though?” I ask, lowering my voice. “Without the ability to infuse the wall with an enchantment…”
He shrugs. “Who says it can’t be infused with an enchantment? We may not be able to proceed with the one Estel’s sister had designed long ago, but that doesn’t mean we can’t protect the wall.”
Hope begs to rise in my chest, but it doesn’t go far. Even if we could find a new enchantment to protect Faerwyvae, will we be able to finish the wall before the next attack? And if we are…what if the humans detonate the bomb in Eisleigh instead? Is there any enchantment strong enough to protect from the blast of an exploding star?
“I sense a human,” Dune says from up ahead, shaking me from my thoughts. His blue flame is muted by the mist, and I can barely make out the kitsune as more than a white shape. He pauses for us to catch up. “Stone Eighty-Five, I believe.”
“Do you sense only one human or multiple?” I pat my dagger again, wrapping my fingers around its hilt.
“One,” he says to my relief. That lessens the chances that this is a trap.
I let my fingers leave the dagger. “Take us to him.”
Dune leads us through the mist, the towering stones of the wall now in full view. Aspen’s hand remains locked in mine as we make our way between two stones and onto human soil.
The chill is the first thing I notice, the bite in the air sharp against my skin, even through my clothing. My previously warm cloak now feels threadbare, making me wish for a heavy winter coat instead. The next thing I notice is the smell of the forest on this side of the wall, the aroma of dirt and rotting leaves, of waste and pollution in the villages beyond. Finally, I spot the human figure stepping out from behind one of the trees. The sight of the heavy-set mayor sends my mind reeling back to the night of Mother’s trial, igniting fire in my blood, but I do my best to keep my rage under control.
Marie nearly starts forth when she sees her uncle, but I place a warning hand on her shoulder to hold her back. If she’s going to serve as a warning to keep the mayor in line, I can’t have her skipping around without a care. “Somber, remember?” I whisper.
