His eyes gleamed. “I should make some assurances. Maybe I could keep one of them here, to make sure you won’t cross us.”
“Absolutely not,” Reyna said. “They’re all coming with me.”
“You can lie,” he pointed out, scanning their faces. “All of you can, except Thane. Unless he undoes the exile.”
Thane winced. “I can’t undo the exile until I’m back on the throne. I keep trying to tell everyone that, but no one will listen.” A pained look crossed his face. “But you’re right. I can’t lie. So, I’ll make a vow to you. We will not cross you. We’ll do as you’ve asked. Reyna will go to the castle and curse the bloody curse. Are you happy now?”
Tunkin smiled. “Oh yes.”
37
Mariel
Mariel fled to the Witchlight Woods. She rushed through the hidden tunnels that snaked beneath the castle. The ghost of footsteps followed her through the darkness. Tears burned her eyes as she thought of Mavis, of everything he’d risked to break her out of her cell.
He’d promised her he’d be careful. No one would ever know it was him. But Mariel knew those castle walls had eyes and ears. Someone would know.
She rushed out of the tunnel and slowed to a stop. Tipping back her head, she gazed up at the towering yew trees that shuddered in the wind. Her heart clenched at the sight of them. They had always been there when she needed them the most. Sometimes, she’d wondered if they were alive, watching her, helping her, feeding her their blood.
A life-force she desperately needed right now.
Stomach aching, she plodded forward along the dirt path that cut through the forest. The trees loomed over her, casting their jagged shadows across her face. She breathed in the scent of pine and acorns, smiling at the steady warmth that penetrated the thick canopy. Winter had gone. Beltane had flown by, bringing with it heat and sun and light.
Mariel had always loved the long summer days spent in the woods as a child. She’d climb the trees and drink the sap, leaping from limb to limb. It was fitting that she would spend her next summer this way.
Once she was deep within the woods and far from curious eyes, Mariel dropped her satchel to the ground. Mavis had given her some supplies just before she’d fled. Inside, she found three pairs of clothes, worn and ragged but clean and dry. He’d packed her some dried fruit and meats, along with several heels of bread. A single dagger had been the only weapon, but it would be enough.
She slid the dagger into her waistband and hefted herself into the nearest tree. Her muscles ached from the small effort. It had been far too long since she’d used them. Her head spun as she leapt up to the branch above. With so little sustenance, her energy stores were gone.
Still, she climbed, on and on. It would take more than a little hunger to knock Mariel Dalais down.
When she reached the highest branch, she slammed her dagger into the trunk and cupped her hands beneath it. Sweet, life-saving sap pooled into her palms. Energy danced through her.
She pulled her hands back and drank deeply. The sap filled her stomach, chasing away the hunger. With a satisfied smile, she took more. Her headache vanished. Her eyes grew clear. The bones inside her hardened into stone. Still, she drank. Hours passed as she filled her soul with its missing life.
When she had finally taken her fill of the sap, the world had transformed around her. The moonlight blinded her eyes, and the distant birdsong grew so loud that it felt as though it was coming from inside of her own skull. The bark scraped against her hands like knives.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the trees. “You’ve saved me. Again. You always save me.”
Leaves brushed her cheek, filling her soul with peace.
She glanced around. Now what? She supposed she should get started on making some kind of shelter. The summer winds were soothing, but winter would return in full force. She would need a roof over her head and a hearth for curing meats and baking bread. She’d need plenty of traps, as well. Not only for catching prey but for alerting her of intruders as well. Mariel doubted many guards would venture into the Witchlight Woods, but if they did, she needed to be ready for them.
With a deep breath, she leapt from the tree and landed in a crouch on the ground, one hand splayed across the fallen leaves. She smiled and stood. Gods, it felt good to do that again. As she strode back toward her discarded satchel, a strange itch rippled through her back.
Frowning, she reached behind her and scratched it. Her fingers brushed against bird. She yelped and snatched her hand to her chest, heart racing. What the hell was that? Had some wild animal leapt on top of her without her noticing?
No.She frowned, reaching back again. The feathers had been beneath her tunic…
Her fingers brushed the bird again.
It was no bird. Her stomach tumbled. The feathers were sprouting from her own damn back. Gasping, Mariel ripped her shirt over her head and dragged her hand as far across her back as she could reach. Beneath the feathers, strong muscles thrummed with the magic of the Witchlight Woods.
Mariel sat hard on the ground, numb from the shock of it.
Wings. She was growing wings.
The fallen fae had lost their wings a century ago, and Mariel had never entertained the idea that she could use the sap to grow them. With her hunger burning through her, she’d spent hours tasting the sap this night. She’d had so much of it that it had infused her with a kind of magic she’d never had before.
