She pressed her lips together. How could she tell him the truth?
“It means that I do not wish to leave this place.” It was all she could admit.
His eyes moved back and forth, as if searching her soul for an answer to a question he had not voiced. She could scarcely breathe. His head had lowered to hers and his lips were dangerously close. Her fingers ached to reach up and trace the very shape of them.
“Thane,” she whispered.
From behind them, Vreis cleared his throat. Heat engulfed Eislyn’s face. She had forgotten the guard was standing there.
“I do hate to interrupt, my liege, but I’ve just received word from one of the warriors inside of Curaidh Tower. It appears your mother has made her own plan. And it may be too late to stop her.”
40
Mariel
The streets outside of the castle were thick with bodies. As the sun dropped lower, the merchants and tradesmen began shouting from their stalls. They had only moments left in their trading day, and the throngs were out in full force. It had been a pleasant day in Tairngire. Spring was on the horizon, bringing with it the milder temperatures that were preferred by the air fae. The citizens had been out to celebrate. Beltane was drawing ever nearer.
Mariel perched on a thatched rooftop, clinging tight to one of the few timber beams that stretched across the top of the building. She stared down at the fae coming and going from the marketplace. Some entered the outer castle courtyard. Guards and courtiers, mostly. She had been waiting all day.
One benefit to being ancient compared to everyone else was that Mariel had the kind of patience that the younger set did not understand. What was one day when she had lived thousands of them?
A soft breeze blew across Mariel’s face. She closed her eyes and breathed in the wind. It no longer powered her as it once had. The days of drawing magic from the elements had long since passed, but she still felt the soothing embrace of it all the same, as if it curled around her, protecting her, urging her toward her aims.
And her aim was to find out what the king—the former king now—was up to. While she had been distracted by Reyna’s plots, four more low fae had ended up murdered in Drunkard’s Pit. One for each week that had passed. She did not think the timing of the deaths was a coincidence. Every week, a fae was murdered. And the king was involved in it somehow.
She smiled when two figures appeared in the outer courtyard. One was the ancient spymaster employed by Lord Bowen and Prince Thane. Or, at least, that was what Prince Thane thought. In truth, his father had been pulling the strings of the secretive spy far before his son ever had. If there was someone inside that castle that knew what was happening to the low fae of Tairngire, it would be him.
In the shadows of the castle walls, he spoke quietly with another male. This one she did not recognize, for he was not of the nobility. He wore standard woollen trousers and a matching tunic in the color of drab brown. The arms were frayed at the edges, and the leather belt around his waist had faded with time. Tawny hair framed an angular, sunken face, and his weathered skin covered slim, bony arms.
He was a low fae. What, pray tell, was a low fae doing lurking inside the castle walls with the spymaster?
Mariel’s keen eyes followed the suspicious male as he left the courtyard and ducked through the open gates to mingle with the rest of the fae scurrying through the marketplace. The warriors stationed outside the castle paid him no heed. With a frown, Mariel edged to the corner of the roof.
He merged with the throngs before ducking into a side street. Mariel followed quickly after, leaping from roof to roof to stay out of sight. No one looked up. They didn’t think to. No longer did the skies fill with wings. The fae had fallen to the ground forever, and the world above was no interest to them now.
Except for Mariel. The rooftops had become her home just as surely as the tallest trees of the woods had.
She jumped across another gap in the rooftops, her feet landing lightly on the thick beam. As the male slowed in the street below, she fell into a crouch, fingers gripping the rough wood.
During her pursuit, the remaining light in the sky had vanished. Ominous shadows danced in the street below where the male lurked outside of a cluster of doors. They were in a district called Ironless Ward, one that bordered Drunkard’s Pit. The lack of riches was reflected even here. There were several rows of tenements pushed up together, each new level more lopsided than the one below.
Her heart beat hard as she considered what that meant. The male below no doubt intended to murder another “inconsequential” low fae. She gripped tighter to the beam and waited. Long moments stretched by. The darkness deepened. The warmer day that had come with the sun now faded into a chilly night. Mariel had not brought a cloak, but she did not shiver.
One of the doors cracked open, and the light from within splashed onto the muddy ground. Mariel’s breath froze in her throat, and she leaned forward, her shoulders jutting out beyond the building in which she clung.
A young fae stepped outside, or young in Mariel’s estimation. He was tall and lanky and looked to be perhaps twenty or twenty-five years of age. Just a baby. So new to this world. And then the knife flashed.
Mariel leapt with a soundless shriek. Wind whipped around her, her loose tunic flapping around her stomach. The ground rushed up to meet her, and she pulled her own two daggers out from their sheaths. She landed in a crouch just in front of the attacker, putting her body between his and the boy.
Shock flashing across the attacker’s face, he stumbled back. “What…?”
“Run,” she hissed to the boy behind her. “Get out of here now.”
His breath caught. His footsteps pounded on the ground, fading into the distance. All the while, Mariel stared up at the attacker, eyes narrowed, body ready to pounce. To his credit, he did not turn and run, though he likely assumed that Mariel would shove her daggers into his back if he did.
He was right.
“How did you do that?” he finally asked, knife still held before him. “That drop should have killed you.”
