I used my shadows to offer them some cover until they reached the treeline, then turned toward the Abbey. Oberon had taught me the basics of how to glamour myself, but I had no mirror to check if it had worked. I had to settle for blunting the tips of my ears, then praying everything else looked normal as I approached the crowd of boatmen. None of them seemed to know what to do,and there wasn’t a single city watchman, nor any other kind of official response that would normally be sent to a building fire.
The idea of it pierced my heart with raw, sharpened fury. This entire thing had been planned from the start. The Sheriff and the Prince had planted information with Will, knowing he would bring it to the Arden. They sent the caravan, and Helena, knowing we would take it, then waited for the gold to show up at Locksley. Somehow, they had been one step ahead of us this entire time, and now I had to grapple with the fact that whoever had love-spelled Helena also had access to much more deadly magyk. And now Archbishop Piers was dead, another victim of Johar’s schemes. I could not understand it—why they would target Locksley of all places, and what their endgame was. War with the Arden would bring nothing but more death and destruction. Surely, even an arrogant fool like Johar knew that.
As I got closer, I saw that the boatmen were not merely standing around, confused and afraid. They had formed a human chain to pass large buckets of water from the Channel to the Abbey, attempting to staunch the flames. It hurt my heart to see them trying so hard, when I knew there was nothing left to save. As crass and tiresome as they could often be, boatmen had always been Locksley’s greatest source of support, and I scanned the crowd for any familiar faces while concealing myself in the shadows of the wall. But they spotted me first, and one of them called out.
“Hey! Are you alright? Are you injured?” He ran over and I saw Nick Fagan’s flushed, pockmarked face. His eyes grew large when he recognized me. “Holy Father! Miss May, what are you doing here? We heard you left town weeks ago.”
“I did,” I said quietly, stepping out of the wall’s shadow. “Fagan, have you seen Will or Friar Tuck? They were here, but…”
“No, I ain’t seen either of them. I was sleepin’ when the Iron Fist came.” He waved his hand sadly at the Abbey. “I don’t understand it at all, May. Why would they do this?”
“What have people been saying in town? About Locksley?”
“There’s been…rumors…” Fagan muttered. “Rumors ‘bout Sister Superior making deals with the Fair Folk in order to get rid of Archbishop Piers, or to get revenge on Sheriff Scarlett for the tax increase…”
“What? That’s insane! How could anyone believe that?” I turned my back and balled my fists, kicking out at a chunk of mortar that had fallen from the Abbey’s wall. When I looked at Fagan again, he was twisting his tweed cap anxiously. “I have to go, but if you hear anything about Will and Tuck, can you…leave me a message? Here?” I picked up the chunk of mortar and indicated the space between the bricks where it had fallen out, then slid it back into place.
“I’ll sure try, May,” the boatman said quietly. “What about…the Sisters? Do you want us to…to bury them?”
I couldn’t answer him, and had to face the wall again, running my fingers along the smooth, red sandstone surface. “Do what you can,” I finally told him. “If the Iron Fist stays away, bury them behind the east wall. I’ll come back when I can…to do their last rites.”
Fagan just nodded, then shuffled away to continue helping with the buckets of water. I looked up at the bell tower, and the sight of it lit a fire inside me too. Careful to avoid the sight of the hanging bodies, I made my way back inside the Abbey and found the tower stairs. It was a long climb, and my legs burned viciously by the time I reached the top, but I hardly felt it. My body had become consumed by something so deep and fervid, I could hardly remember where I was. Shadows crept around the edges of my vision until only one thing was left in my sights: Nottingham Keep, poised on the opposite edge of the city, looming like an insatiable predator above a cage full of helpless prey. With Locksley’s enormous bell at my back, I stood on the edge of the tower and put my hands together, summoning every ounce of magyk I could and concentrating it into a dark sphere between my palms. The power roiled and churned, growing larger and more furious, but not nearly the size I wanted. If I was going to destroy Nottingham Keep, leave it in ruins and kill the people who had hurt my family, this would not be enough. I dropped to my knees, straining every muscle, gritting my teeth as my vision swam and wavered. But the magyk would not cooperate. It pressed back on me, resisting my summons as if it were afraid.
“What is wrong with you?” I cried, pulling out more shadows, which promptly dissipated into thin air. Releasing all my rage and agony in a violent shriek, I let go. The ball of swirling magyk burst, knocking me back and smashing my head against the giant bell. For a long time, I laid still, dazed, listening to the rush of flames and the shouts of the boatmen below, thinking about how easy it would be to simply fall asleep, to slip into oblivion and forget all the sorrow, forget everything that had been ripped away from me. But a soft, buzzing sound brought me back from that alluring abyss, and I opened my puffy, swollen eyes to see Prim. She hovered in front of me, anxiously wringing her tiny hands.
“You’re hurt!” she squealed. “The bell!”
I pulled myself into a shaky sitting position and looked up. The smell of iron suddenly filled my nostrils, and I understood what had happened. Locksley had literally been built on iron foundations, with sandstone that turned rust-red dueto its iron content, and iron poured into every ounce of mortar. The entire structure was made to subdue and suppress fay magyk. I’d already discovered that my human blood protected me from the burns iron inflicted on other fay, but it clearly still had a strong effect on my power. With a pained groan, I pulled myself forward and rested on my hands and knees. Before I could gather the strength to stand up, however, the sound of a woman’s voice drifted up from the ground.
She sounded desperate, afraid, and she was calling outmyname. “Marina? Have any of you seen Marina? The girl from the infirmary? Please, she should be here. I need to find her.”
I shuffled toward the edge of the open-sided belltower, which was protected only by a thin, rusted railing, and peered over the edge. At first, the crowd below was barely visible through the smoke, but when a breeze cleared some of it away, I was truly shocked to see Will’s mother, Sadrine Scarlett.
I had only met her a few times, when Will was in the infirmary with an illness or minor injury, and she had never been anything but icy to me. Will said it was just her nature, always closed off and cold, but that was not what I saw now. Wearing only a dressing gown, she went from man to man, begging for information about me, of all people, with her long, faded blonde hair hanging in a frazzled braid. I hesitated, wondering if showing myself to the wife of Osric Scarlett was wise, but the fearful ache in her voice tugged at my heart. She was a mother before anything, and she might be the only person who knew where I could find Will and Tuck. That knowledge gave me the strength to pull myself up and hurry down the tower stairs, Prim buzzing along behind me.
“Who sent you?” I asked the little faerie.
“Jon,” she squeaked. “Your girls are safe. With Larch and Celia.”
“And Devil?”
“Weak. Aliena made him sleep. Magyk.”
I thought as quickly as I could while keeping myself from tripping down the stairs. “Go to the Hollow and tell them I’ll be back soon.”
Prim gave a resolute nod and zoomed through the open archway at the bottom of the tower. When I left the Abbey grounds, I was relieved to see Sadrine still interrogating boatmen, but I approached her warily.
“Mrs. Scarlett!” I called, lurking in the shadow of the Abbey wall again. “Sadrine!”
She whipped around and her face lit up when she saw me. “Oh,thank the Mother!” she cried, scurrying over and pressing herself against the wall too. “Mercy, I didn’t know where to look, or if you’d even be here, but Will said—”
“You’ve seen him?” I asked sharply.
She burstinto tears and covered her face with her hands. “Please, I know what you must think of me,” she sobbed. “My husband is the one who did this…thisawfulthing, but I just want to save my son, please. He said you would help…he said to find you, that you would be here…”
“Sadrine,” I said, pulling her hands down as gently as I could. “I want to help, but I need to know where he is, and Friar Tuck too.”
“They were arrested for fighting against the Iron Fist and taken into the Keep. I don’t know where, exactly, but they’re accused of treason, and heresy. Johar said he would…he would see them both hanged! He gave them five days to recant.” She fell into another round of loud sobs.
