Benedict shifted in the grip of the guards. If he was returned to the prison, he’d have no chance whatsoever to warn King Theseus. But if he made the geas, there was a chance—slim as it was—that he could find a way around it. One couldn’t break or violate a geas, but this was the Fae Realm. Tricky wording allowed one to wiggle out of most bindings.
Would Claudius allow him to leave if he left himself a glaring loophole? He’d have to put it right in the vow he made out loud.
Although, Claudius was fae. Fae loved loopholes, wordsmithing, and bargains, even when giving such things risked that they could lose.
But it was the thrill of the risk that they craved. And Claudius was no exception. If anything, he craved it more than most. The tricky ones always did.
“I vow a solemn geas that I will do as you say.” Benedict kept his gaze fixed on Claudius as he added in a rush, “Except to tell everything to the person I apparently blame for my imprisonment.”
One of the guards slammed his fist into Benedict’s stomach. His breath whooshed out as his knees buckled. Pain flared through his gut, then his knees when they slammed onto the stone floor.
But the guard had been too late. Benedict had gotten the words out, and he could feel the way the geas settled on him as a weight, first on his back, then on his soul.
Claudius stroked his beard, staring down at Benedict. “An interesting addition. I would have said that I’m the one you blame for your imprisonment, but it would do you no good to leave me as your loophole. Do you blame your king? Or someone else?”
Benedict gasped for breath where he knelt. Would Claudius let him go? Or had he just thrown his one chance at freedom away?
“Or…” Claudius leaned closer, his voice lowering. “Do you blame the Wild Fae Primrose? He is the reason for the war, after all.”
Benedict clenched his jaw.
Something in his eyes must have given him away because Claudius chuckled and straightened. “In that case, you will merely lead my spy straight to the Primrose, and I will finally have that pesky fae hero in my grasp. Very well. I’ll let you go. Just know that my spy will be watching your every move.”
Benedict finally dropped his gaze, hanging his head as if in defeat.
Hopefully that loophole would be enough.
In the dapplingshade of the thick foliage overhead, Benedict stood with the four false fae prisoners at the edge of a clearing in the Tanglewood, the magical forest that created the border between the Court of Knowledge and the Court of Revels. A handful of other prisoners had joined them, likely ones held by King Oberon instead of by Claudius.
King Oberon and several fae from the Court of Revels stood around them, ostensibly the ones running this prisoner exchange. While Claudius hadn’t come, several of his fae had done so in the guise of members of the Court of Revels.
On the other side of the clearing, King Theseus, Queen Hippolyta, and several of her swordmaidens guarded a cluster of prisoners from the Court of Revels. King Theseus wore his black librarian-style coat, which paired well with his black hair andblue eyes. Queen Hippolyta’s white dress lay beneath a layer of chain mail, her sword belted at her hip.
“King Oberon, let’s not prolong this or stand on ceremony,” King Theseus called across the clearing. “I will start my prisoners walking toward you if you send your prisoners toward me.”
“Very well.” King Oberon puffed out his already exaggeratedly muscular chest. He made a grandiose flourish of his hand, and the guards shoved Benedict and the other prisoners forward.
Benedict walked at a slow pace, searching the prisoners headed toward him. He needed to find one prisoner in particular. His whole plan depended on it.
There. Benedict tried to subtly swerve in the fae’s direction until—right when they reached the center of the clearing—he stepped in the fae’s path. “Lord Chauvlyn.”
The black-haired, hard-eyed fae glared down his nose at him. “Yes?”
“Rumor has it that you are one of the few people who know who the Wild Fae Primrose is.” Benedict spoke as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure how long he could get away with speaking with the lord from the Court of Revels before someone noticed. “I need to know who he is.”
“Why would I tell you?” Lord Chauvlyn raised one eyebrow. “I have not even told my own king.”
A puzzle that many in the Court of Knowledge had wondered about. It seemed the knowledge of the Wild Fae Primrose’s identity was a bargaining chip that Lord Chauvlyn wasn’t going to give up easily, even to his own king.
And yet Benedict needed to convince him in the next few seconds to do just that. “The current truce depends on it. Perhaps even the fate of the Fae Realm itself. Please. I will owe you a favor.”
Lord Chauvlyn’s eyes glinted at that. After all, owing another fae a favor was a dangerous thing, especially one that he offered without any conditions. “Very well. All I will tell you is this: You will never find the Wild Fae Primrose unless you set aside your misconceptions of who a hero must be.”
That…wasn’t helpful. At all. Certainly not worth owing Lord Chauvlyn an unrestricted favor.
Lord Chauvlyn made to step around him, but Benedict blocked his way again, daring to grab his arm. “Please. I need more than that. You don’t understand?—”
His throat closed around the rest of the words. He couldn’t say anything else because of his geas. He couldn’t even say Claudius’s name.
