Pigeon folds her arms. “You can’t complain about our methods. I asked if you wanted to help and you said no.”
“Correct. I’d like to keep myself out of the dungeons, if possible. I’d hate to give the queen the satisfaction of my committing anactualcrime.”
I frown. What are they talking about?
“Don’t fret, I double-check all of the phosphorus levels these days,” Tansy chimes in, tapping her fingers over those metal shells. “There’s only enough to stun.”
“Exactly,” Pigeon says. “We didn’t take that guard’s death lightly. You know we’re more careful these days.”
My blood runs cold. Colder than the bite of wind against my frozen limbs as I reached for the Odyssa. Colder than the mountain Pigeon found me on. My mind is having a hard time catching up. Pigeon saved my life. She helped me. But—
“You’re one of the rebels,” I say.
It’s the truth.
Tansy’s eyebrows rise in offense.
“That’s what they’re calling us in the citadel, yes. Apparently we’re all corrupted with evil magic,” Pigeon says gravely. “But we’re more of a…volunteer group. There’s about forty of us from the affected villages, and all we want is enough to survive. We’re only taking back what was taken from us until we find a way to heal the land.”
I can’t move.
I made the mourning flowers for Simon. I chose the marigolds and dahlias and placed them in his mother’s arms. I saw her crying at the fountain for weeks.
“Fliss.”
Will’s voice is outside a bubble that has me paralyzed, that’s shoved a dagger between my ribs as I realize what this means. I know who some of the rebels are. I know who is responsible for Simon’s death. Oh gods.Oh gods.What do I do? I should turn them in, right? I should tell Ava. It’s the right thing to do.
Is it?
Either way, the queen will find out. She’ll know I’m hiding something. She’ll pry it out. She’ll do anything she can to wring this truth from me.
I shouldn’t know this information.
I shouldn’t know this.
Pigeon should have left me on that mountain.
She shouldn’t have told me.
Oh gods, oh gods, oh—
“Fliss. Felicity.Fliss.Breathe.”
Will grabs my elbows. I blink away the sting of tears and focus on him, on that golden glint in his concerned hazel eyes. The coil of roots in my chest calms. Not for the first time, Willoh Vane is a balm, a medicine as strong as the pansy in my hair. More than anything, I want him to keep looking at me as intensely as he is right now.
“S-Sorry. Sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, his grip tight.
“I-I’m not used to people sharing information like that with me.”
I’m a liability. Pigeon just shared a huge potentially devastating truth, and she doesn’t know that I’m the queen’s plaything or that my best friend is soon to be part of the royal family. Neither does Will. There’s so much to hold inside, the pressure of the secrets stretches at my seams.
“Just breathe. You’ll be okay, Farrow,” Will whispers.
He releases my elbows, brushing light fingers against my lowerback until my weight is balanced again. Then his hands are gone, tucked back in his pockets, and where he touched becomes an empty, cold breeze.
Pigeon gestures to the newly tied rope, a circle of protection for the fraying bark underneath.
