I do not voice any of this. Instead, I focus on the task at hand, on the bargaining chip Kassandra has given me—my price for paralyzing her brother.
“My mistress has a deal to offer,” I state. “When the time comes, she will vote against Ashent, whether she is heir or head of House, or holds both votes because of pregnancy.”
Eli sputters. “I—I know Kass is my friend, but why support my perspective?”
“Because she agrees with you. It makes the males more violent.”
“What would she like in return?”
I dig out the paper with Benji’s name on it. “For the House to absolve this faerie of his Healing debts. And if Dominik somehow makes a miraculous recovery, then she will personally pay back the balance.”
I hand the paper to Eli, and he scans the name. “That’s it?”
“And,” I venture to say, “the legal protections of Healing for this faerie.”
Once I knew that Benji’s debts—all of ours—are only owed to three Houses because Death does not collect, the plan fell intoplace. Dominik needed to be stopped, Kassandra needed power, Benji protection, the king to be isolated. Kass absolved the remaining Illusion debts of Benji, Briar, herself, and me, and granted us legal protections.When my power is secured,she said this morning,we can forgive all the debt.
Whether she will doesn’t matter because Benji’s freedom doesn’t rest solely on her or me now. Now Benji is forgiven by two of the three creditor Houses, and protected by them for the foreseeable future.
“Done,” Eli says, scribbling.
My vision blurs. That is all it takes for the fae to free. Just the scribble of a quill on paper, and a legacy of suffering has ended. As he hands the message to his valet to take to the teller’s office below, I smile because Benji’s rings will only cover one arm now, like they did before Jae’s death.
There is only one House left that owns him. And I will do anything to set him free of it, even if it means plunging a knife into another fae back.
—
Before I leavethe House of Healing, I knock on my friend’s door.
“Come in!” Lila calls.
Opening the door, I stop. She smiles at me from a reading chair, hair in fresh long braids woven with loose curly strands that fall toward the ends. She looks relaxed and refreshed, something I haven’t seen since I’ve known her.
“Your hair!” I gasp. “You look celestial!”
She beams. “I met another black faerie who works in the Healing library, and we got to talking. She knows about my hand and so she offered to come over to help with my braids. Apparently, she does a lot of other girls’ hair as well.”
“The style is so whimsical,” I say, kissing both her cheeks. “Oh, and when you’re ready, I have something for you.”
“I’m ready now.”
Setting my small bag down, I take out the ring of skeleton keys that belonged to her father. Her eyes well. Then I take the letters out, one by one, from our friends in the Pith. Lila reads, tears rolling down her cheeks. Pouring myself some water, I watch my friend work through a myriad of emotions. Her lips move with each word, as if reciting prayer. When she’s ready, she looks up, laughing.
“Thank you.”
I wipe my face. “Kass is opening an artist-in-residence program for faeries, sponsored by Illusion. You should apply.”
She gestures to the seat next to me.
We talk for hours. We divulge our feelings, our nerves, details about our fathers and mothers and new favorite herbs, what we had for breakfast that morning and what activities we want to do now that spring has fully formed. We talk until our throats are sore, until there is a knock.
“Oh!” Lila’s eyes widen. “I forgot about my appointment. Hide in the armoire.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not hiding in the armoire—”
“It’s with Hector Vandorne.”
Why in the planes is Hector Vandorne here?
