When she reached Drunkard’s Pit, she breathed in the familiar stench of dirt and rot. To many, the slums were a dangerous, disgusting place full of thieves, murderers, and fools. They were not wrong, but Drunkard’s Pit was far more than that, too. It was full of kind faces, laughter, and sparks of hope. The fae who called the slums home had nowhere else to go. They’d been beaten down, and yet, they found the will to survive.
These were the fae who would suffer because of Aengus. Not the courtiers safe up in the castle, hidden behind thick stone walls. If the shadow fae descended upon the city, the slums would die first.
“You have that look in your eye again,” her brother said as she pushed into their empty tavern. He glanced up from where he mopped a wet rag across the wooden bar top and shot her a grimace. “I thought you were done with all the Bloody Dagger business. Thought you didn’t want to risk getting caught.”
Indeed, it had been weeks since Mariel had agreed to take on another job. She hadn’t wanted to catch the attention of Aengus, knowing full well that he would like to see her dead. And Mariel would be no help to the fae of Tairngire if she hung from a rope.
“I need the birds,” she said quickly, pushing through the empty tavern and past a burlap flap whose deep color had faded over their years spent in hiding. She entered the storeroom and glanced around the familiar shelves packed full of spirits, wine, tankards, and salted meats. Jumping on top of the stool, she reached over the bottles of wine on the top shelf and extracted a yellowed journal she hadn’t touched in years.
Her brother had followed her into the storeroom. He stood just beyond the burlap flap, staring up at her with pinched brows and a furrow that was all too familiar. He had used it on her many a time before now.
“The birds?” he asked. “Why do you need the birds?”
“It’s time we end this, Mavis,” she said gravely. “It’s time we stopped cowering in the slums. We need to help our people.”
“Mar,” he said hoarsely, his eyes flicking from her face to the journal she clutched tightly against her chest. “You’re scaring me.”
“Aengus killed another royal today,” she said. “That’s the fourth in only a matter of weeks.”
He stared at her for a long moment before throwing up his hands. “That’s none of our concern. It stopped being our concern when the Selkirks killed our entire family and drove us out of the castle! Why do you think we’re still alive, Mar? It’s not because they spared us. It’s because they think we’realready dead.”
“The truth is they don’t think of us at all,” she said quietly but forcefully. “But they will.”
He shook his head, and then threw his arms toward the packed shelves. “We’ve built a good life here. I know it’s a pit of filth out there, but we have a good thing going on in here. You want to help the people? We do. We give them somewhere warm, safe, and happy to go anytime they need it. We don’t need to stalk the streets and dispense justice to help our people. And we certainly don’t need to go charging into the castle, reminding everyone that the Dalais family built this city and that they’re still alive. Aengus is killing traitors, yes? What do you think he’ll do when he finds out we exist?”
Mariel smiled. “He will welcome me with open arms.”
Mavis blinked. “You’ve truly lost your damn mind, Mariel. He will have you killed on the spot, unless he decides to make a spectacle of you like all the rest.”
“He won’t.” She continued to smile. “I have a plan. All I need from you is the location of the birds.”
“You’re actually serious about this.” Shaking his head, Mavis crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not help you with this. I will not be a party to my sister’s death.”
“If you don’t help me, Mavis, then I will merely find the birds from somewhere else,” she said with a dangerous edge to her voice. “And that is less likely to be as safe.”
He ground his teeth together. “Damn you, Mariel. Damn you to the Court of Death. You will be the death of the both of us. You know that, right?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “I will be our rebirth. Prepare yourself, big brother. Once I’m finished with Aengus, no one will ever utter the name Selkirk again. We’re going home.”
* * *
Her brother had been very fond of birds when he’d been a boy. Their mother had never approved, but that had not stopped her from supporting Mavis’s strange obsession. She had bought him a flock of birds from the Empire of Fomor, said to live as long as the fae. He’d spent hours nurturing them, training them, loving them. When the Selkirks had sacked the castle, Mavis had cried all the way through their escape, terrified the birds would meet the same bloody fate as the rest.
But the birds had escaped, and they’d found him, despite it all. They were the best trained birds on the continent, or so her brother said. Mariel believed it was far more than that. He’d bonded with the birds. They loved him.
But he could not keep them, not if they wanted to survive in the slums unnoticed. Gutter rats did not have flocks of fully-trained birds.
Instead, he’d hidden them away somewhere safe. He’d never even told Mariel where he’d taken them. Until now.
“I should have known,” she murmured, glancing up at the looming yew trees of the Witchlight Woods. Above, a dozen golden birds perched on the thick branches, the sun glittering off their luminous feathers. “You never would have left them in the hands of someone else, not in the city.”
“Of course not,” he grunted. “The poor get hungry. They’d sooner eat them than feed them precious grain.”
“And you’ve been coming out here all this time?” she asked, arching her brow. “Every single day?”
“Not every day. Once a week, unless things are busy at the tavern.”
“You’ve been giving me so much stick about getting caught, and yet, you’ve been coming out here all this time. If anyone had spotted you…”
