This is it,I think.He will propose tonight. We have won. We will be safe.
Benji tugs on my sleeve. “Will you come with me to deposit this?”
I take in the true purpose to this all, the meaning of my life now—this boy. My only family left.
“Of course.”
As the High Fae and faeries break up to rest and prep for tonight’s dinner, I lead Benji through the cool, dark tunnel of the Nest. The boy wraps the coin in his fist, shoves his hand into his pocket. The silence is tense until we reach the creditor’s counter.
Benji hands him the coin, and the halfling gasps.
“His Magnificence sent the paperwork through,” I say. “It’s a tip from Reign.”
When the teller pricks Benji’s finger, words scrawl across parchment. He nods.
Then Benji laughs. “It tickles!”
Rolling up a pant leg, we watch as ring after ring disappears from his ankle, his shin, his knee and thigh until only one remains. It’s a miracle, the coin erasing more than just one tattoo. Perhaps it is that the tattoos were smaller, having been inked on a small body. Perhaps they didn’t have time to thicken with interest. Either way, it doesn’t matter.
What matters is that he grins at me, and I grin back. Pure joy sparks at the sight of that unmarked skin once more, the light that returns to his eyes. It was all worth it. He won, we won, and soon we may both be free.
I wish Jeremee were here to see it.
Something must give in my expression, for Benji’s face falters. He pushes down his pant leg. The moment skitters away like a spider.
“Jae-jae is still dead,” the boy says.
“I know,” I say, reaching for him, but he flinches away.
“Avery!” Briar shouts. “Avery!”
She rushes toward us, hair undone, shoving others out of the way. There is a cut on her cheekbone that wasn’t there before.
“What is it?” I ask. “My planes, are you okay?”
Her mouth open, only the sound of choking escapes. The Illusion oath.
Something has happened in the House of Illusion.
“Benji, I have to go,” I say, turning.
But the boy is already gone.
Chapter Nineteen
The parlor is destroyed—the setteeoverturned, a broken mirror on the floor, the curtains ripped, as if a wild animal tore through the room.
Briar leads me to the bedroom, tears rolling down her cheeks. Kassandra lies limp in the bed. The room feels cold, far away, and I stagger forward, falling at her bedside, gaping at her black eye.
“I tried,” Kassandra says. “I was not strong enough.”
“I don’t understand,” I gasp. Briar sniffs and props up Kassandra’s head, tipping a vial of tonic into her mouth.
“Lord Eli,” I say. “We must tell Lord Eli. He can bear witness to what has been done, and he can Heal—”
“No,” my mistress rasps.
“We must.”
