Chapter 3

Rosabel La Rouge

Eight long legs. One gigantic body, like two large round pieces glued together. Eight eyes made of gleaming sapphires.

Suddenly, I was back in the Iris Roe, and it smelled like lemon, and it was dark, and there was water below me and darkness above, and Madame Weaver was coming to mummify me before she ate me little by little.

No, no, no, no…

My breath cut off and my heart beat a mile a minute and sweat lined my forehead and my instincts insisted for me to run-run, Rora, run!

Then a cold hand fell on my forearm. “Look!”

Poppy sounded excited.

A blink, and I realized the camera had zoomed out and the image on the screen no longer showed a close-up shot of Madame Weaver. It showed her large web, so many levels of icy white threads attached to the trees that didn’t look half as disgusting here as they were in real life. As they had been . And the dots glued to them here and there, all around the very center where Madame Weaver’s nest full of tiny spiders was…

Bile up my throat. I had my hand in that nest. Tiny spiders bit my knuckles and scratched my fingers—I had my hand in there.

Goddess, it was a miracle I didn’t throw up everything Poppy had just fed me.

“That’s you!”

Again, the sound of Poppy’s voice pulled me out of my trance, but this was too much, too soon. Everything about the Roe was still so damn fresh in my head that it took so little to throw me right back in there. My memories were so detailed there was no way I could separate them from reality, not right now.

But when Poppy pointed her finger at the screen, I focused on it, and I saw.

It was me, indeed. Me and my daggers, somewhere below Madame Weaver sitting on the threads, looking up. Just sitting there, waiting. Watching…Ghost Taland getting closer to the spider to lure her toward me.

My heart took another pause, this one longer. I sank my nails into my palms, and who cared if I was bleeding? I ordered my eyes not to blink as I watched the illusion of Taland, so perfectly executed, moving slowly to get closer to the spider, while the real one that had been by the tree then wasn’t visible in the video.

Then Ghost Taland came closer and turned his head.

It wasn’t Taland at all.

Wait, wait, hold on a minute, wait…

It was Taland—almost exactly Taland. The height of him, the leather jacket and the black pants. The way he held his arms. The way he moved, just like Taland (real Taland)—and his hair! His hair was exactly the same as Taland’s, longish and messy and all over the place and almost completely black.

But his face was different.

I brought both hands to my open mouth while I either laughed or cried—no idea, but my shoulders were shaking.

In the video, Ghost Taland wearing a different face lured the spider closer, and then I began to cut the threads with my daggers fast.

Madame Weaver fell a level lower.

The video ended.

“That was so cool! ” Poppy screeched. “Oh, my goddess, Rora—I can’t believe you did that! So, so cool!”

“The other,” I choked. “P-p-play the other video.”

Maybe I saw wrong. Maybe because that figure had been only Real Taland’s illusion magic, the face of it had been different. Maybe, maybe maybe…

Poppy clicked the fourth thumbnail.

The image of Night City filled the screen.

Goddess, the way my body reacted. The way my mind insisted that we were there again, even though I was fully aware that I was in my room at Madeline’s mansion. Even though I knew the Iris Roe was over, that I’d won—I still felt like I was thrust right into Night City again, and I was at the square, looking at a group of other players.

A group of residents, too.

It was that loop when the first player actually killed the elf with the bucket, in a way that it seemed like an accident and it actually counted as a natural death.

Again, my fingernails sank into my palms as I watched myself walking closer to the group. I remembered where I was coming from, too—Refiq’s Cloud Maker shop, where I paid him for a hailstorm. The halfling with the suit and the bowler hat whose mother was Iridian, who’d scared me shitless, but who’d also been my only hope.

I’d come right out of his shop when I’d heard the scream, and I’d gone closer to the narrow street at the end of the square to see why the people had gathered. I’d seen the dead elf, and the Whitefire woman whispering her necromancy spell, getting her key, and running.

Then… Taland.

I saw him coming—he was right there. Tall, hair all over the place, black pants, black leather jacket, and most importantly, a green apple in his hands.

No idea if I made a sound or not, but I didn’t blink at all as I watched him smiling, biting his apple, his other hand in his pocket. His eyes on me.

I was looking at him, too, in the video. That’s where he told me that the game was about to get way bloodier now that the killing had started.

I remembered how he’d looked in that loop perfectly well.

I remembered—and it was not what this screen was showing.

The face—the same as that of his illusion in the Bluefire challenge. Taland but different, like he’d altered his features—eyes and nose and mouth, to appear like someone else. Someone…unrecognizable.

Laughter burst out of me— the fucker . He knew exactly what he was doing when he entered the Iris Roe. He knew exactly how to keep himself shielded, how to stay safe from the IDD, simply by not looking like Taland.

There I was, worried sick, wondering why the IDD wasn’t stopping the game and coming to take him back to prison. Worried sick that when he did come out, they’d be waiting for him, hundreds of agents eager to drag him back.

Meanwhile he hadn’t looked like himself at all.

“Rora, are you okay?”

The video had ended. Poppy looked at me with a half-smile on her face, unsure of whether to be worried or to laugh with me.

But she didn’t need to be worried because Taland hadn’t been Taland in that game. To me, he had, but to these screens, he’d been someone completely different. Someone unrecognizable. And better yet—I’d seen the picture of this man whose face he wore on the list of players on the other tab.

Taland had really been there—it wasn’t just a figment of imagination. He’d really helped me to win the Iris Roe, and he’d really carried me in his arms as he walked through the Drainage to get to the gates…

Stabs at my heart again. My laughter died a slow and painful death.

“I’m fine,” I said, breathless. “Is there more? Are there more videos?”

Poppy shook her head. “Only those who had seats at the game have access to the raw footage. The Council hasn’t issued more videos for the rest of us so far, but a bunch of new ones are expected by morning.

“Okay,” I said, more to myself than her. “That’s fine. That’s fine.” Taland was alive—in the end, that was the most important thing. Because when I went back to the list of players and found his picture, his fake name: Collins, Jack— the column at the end said Participant, not deceased. He was alive, and the IDD had no clue that it had been him because he didn’t look like him. And I couldn’t wait to find out how he’d done it—if it was a charm he wore or a spell he fired up or another he renewed every hour or day? I wanted to know how, and I’d ask him as soon as I saw him.

Because I’d find him. I’d go back to the Blue House right this second, just as soon as I put some clothes on. I’d go back to the Blue House and find him and prove to myself that he wasn’t Mud. He hadn’t been drained even though he’d walked with me through the Drainage— he wasn’t Mud. It was just a game, the Iris Roe, no matter how brutal and ruthless. Still just a game… right?

I hardly saw what the hell I was doing when I stood up, but my legs knew the way to my closet, and despite Poppy’s protests, I didn’t stop. I grabbed a shirt and a jacket and a pair of jeans. I grabbed some socks and a pair of boots, and I took off my nightgown right in front of her, which I didn’t normally do. Only Taland got me to undress without caring to think . Normally, I was a very shy person and never took my clothes off in front of other people.

Right now, though, I couldn’t have cared less. I got dressed faster than I ever had in my life, and suddenly Poppy was in front of me, forced to grab me by the shoulders just so I would stop and look at her for a moment.

I did.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Where do you think you’re going? Stop it—you still need to rest!”

And she was absolutely right.

“I’ll be back,” I told her, because even though my body still felt strange, and I still hadn’t even begun to think clearly about everything that had happened to me, about the fact that I’d won the Iris Roe, right now I needed to go. So many things to figure out, but none mattered until I saw Taland. Until I knew that he was okay. Alive and breathing, his magic intact.

Nothing mattered but Taland, as twisted as that might sound, considering everything that had happened between us until now. And I could figure out everything else—with ease, when I was with him.

“Back from where ?!” Poppy cried, but when I moved out of the closet, she wasn’t fast enough to stop me. “Damn it, Rora, listen to me!”

“I promise I’ll be back soon. I’ll call or text or something as soon as I can.” I just needed my wallet and my phone and my ring?—

“What about your magic?”

I stopped three feet away from the doors.

I stopped and I could see my reflection in the tall mirror Poppy had always insisted I keep right there in that spot. So that you may see what you look like before going out. It’s important to always look as flawless as possible .

Words Madeline no doubt said to her. Words I didn’t care about, but I still looked at that mirror every time I left my room.

Tonight was no different—except the woman looking back at me now. It wasn’t just the hair, long and loose around my shoulders or my slightly paler than usual cheeks. It was the eyes—they were…orange. Almost completely orange, not brown.

A fiery orange, like Taland used to say when we were in school. An orange that hadn’t been there before Madeline smuggled me into the Iris Roe, not that I remembered.

“Look at me.”

Poppy was in front of me again, hands on mine.

“You are not capable of walking out of here right now. Where do you want to go, Rora? It’s late and we haven’t even gone through the most important things that happened in the game and I still haven’t even congratulated you properly on winning! You’re a millionaire now and you have your color back! You…you…”

She shook her head.

My ears kept on ringing. I looked down at our linked hands, at mine, at the imprints of my fingernails all over my palms, some red with dry blood. My magic. I’d drained the Rainbow of the Iris Roe. A man-made rainbow with so many colors. Intense and beautiful and full of magical energy. With Taland’s help, I’d drained all those colors, had taken them for myself, and I’d felt them. In my chest, I’d felt them. To my very core.

“My ring,” I whispered because I felt it now, too. I felt the magic under my skin, crawling down my shoulders, as if it wanted release. It felt strange, but I’d been without magic for so long that it was possible I’d forgotten the feel of it. Very possible.

“Exactly. Let’s…l-l-let’s look for your anchor and then we could…I don’t know, try to do magic!” Poppy said. “Did it work? Do you know if it worked? Because I’m losing my mind here, wondering about it. I have to know!”

I shook my head, let go of her hands. Yeah, magic was important, but it wasn’t as important as I’d always thought, was it? If anything, the Iris Roe had taught me that.

And regardless of whether I’d won or if I had my magic back—nothing mattered except Taland.

But I went for a smile for Poppy’s sake. “I’m sorry, Pop. I’ll be back before you know it, okay? But I really, really have to go.”

Before she could say anything else, I moved around her, grabbed the handle, and pulled the door open.

Madeline’s cold brown eyes filled my vision.

My body froze, hand on the handle still. The sound of her footsteps against the hardwood floor was like nails being hammered into my skull. She was coming, and she was close, too close. Fiona was against the wall, hands folded, head down, and two guards were at her sides, watching me. Waiting.

“Where do you think you’re going, Rosabel?” Madeline said, slowing her step.

I read the words on those red lips, took in her red suit without really meaning to, her flawless hair, those big round earrings.

Goddess, the way I hated this woman was something else. The intensity of it made my knees weak—or was it the fear? Because I knew I couldn’t win against her. I couldn’t outrun those guards. I couldn’t just jump out the window and disappear into the dark.

“I have…I have to go,” I whispered anyway, because Taland .

Taland could be at the Blue House waiting for me, and I needed to go find him. Screw Madeline and magic and the Iris Roe—I just wanted to see Taland.

Madeline pressed her lips and stretched them into what was supposed to be a smile. Her hand rose and her lips moved and blood-red flames came out of her fingers so fast. So precisely.

Someone let out a small scream—could have been Poppy. But I didn’t move away in time and I couldn’t have if I’d tried. Something about Madeline that always got to me. Something about Madeline that had me trapped and I never knew how to free myself.

Redfire magic was suddenly all around me, coming inside my body through my parted lips and my nostrils and my eyes and my ears. My mind cleared instantly, completely, and the whisper of her spell echoed in my now empty head.

My body gave up and I was no longer standing. I felt the cold of the floor against my cheek, and then there was only darkness.

Taland. I had to get to Taland. I had to see that he was okay, and the Drainage hadn’t… drained him. I had to see.

Would he be at the Blue House still? I really hoped so. Otherwise, I had no idea where to go looking for him next. You better be at the Blue House, Taland, I thought, and I was on my way.

I had been on my way to the Blue House… right ?

My memories struggled to make sense to me. So many images were thrust in front of my eyes—blood puddles and dragons, laughing elves and dead crows, gorgeous big moss-green eyes and ice, his lips on mine, his hands all over me?—

“Wake up.”

Every hair on my body stood at attention. My grandmother’s face was in the center of my mind as if some gigantic floodlights suddenly shone on her, and I knew exactly where I was.

Or at least, who I was with.

My eyes popped open, and I realized I was sitting somewhere—a leather armchair and my head had been down, chin pressed to my chest. No idea if my neck hurt because my focus was on my surroundings—on the dark hallway I was in, on Madeline standing next to me, and the guard a couple feet behind her.

Not just any guard but the guard—the guy who’d smuggled me into the Iris Roe, who’d liked to push and pull me around for kicks. It was him, and when our eyes met, I was terrified for a moment. Terrified to remember.

“Get up,” Madeline said then, and I looked up at her, possibly the worst human being in the world as far as I was concerned.

“Where…where are we?” My voice was a dry, weak mess, but she understood the words.

“We’re about to enter this office to meet with the Council, Rosabel. Stand up and fix your hair.”

That’s what Madeline said. Fix your hair, just like that.

Where I’d come from or how I felt wasn’t important as long as I just stood up and fixed my hair. As long as I looked put together.

Like a fool, I glanced at the guard, as if I was expecting him to save me somehow. To help me. Grab me and put me in an SUV and drive me all the way to the Blue House right now.

Except the guard worked for Madeline and all he did was look at me passively, his hands behind his back, his shoulders straight, suit impeccable.

“Grandmother, what…” I shook my head, looking around me once more because what she just said couldn’t really be true, could it? The Council, as in, the most powerful mages in the world, those who ruled over everything, those who’d created the IDD and those whom the IDD answered to. On paper, at least. I’d always thought that David Hill, just like Madeline before him, was the one who was really in charge here, and the Council was there only for show.

Then again, I’d never met them before.

“Get up. They’re going to call us in any moment now,” Grandmother said, and I realized that the wall I thought we were facing was actually a set of wide, perfectly polished doors.

She waited with her hands folded in front of her, not a hair out of a place or a wrinkle on her red suit.

My legs shook a little. Considering how the past couple weeks had been for me, I genuinely expected them to be too weak to hold me when I stood up, but they weren’t. My knees didn’t shake. My muscles were strong, my body in no pain.

And it made me want to sit there and start fucking crying because this was what magic could do. This was what they were supposed to do to me when I came back from that catfairie-infested woods—both at the IDD Headquarters and when I returned to the mansion. My grandmother could have sent for her healers and they could have had me in this condition within the day then, too.

But she’d refused because I’d been Mud then.

Now?

“Why are we at the Council?” I asked, testing my legs, still expecting them to let go of me, expecting pain to shoot up my left leg when I stepped closer to her. There was none. I was healed—magically healed, just like always when I was wounded on missions. Properly healed.

“They requested your presence,” Madeline said, looking down at my body for a moment. The guard remained a few feet away, watching. “Couldn’t you have put on a dress for once?”

I looked down at my jeans and boots and jacket— no, Grandmother, because I was on my way to steal one of your cars and go to the Blue House in Darville when you caught me.

“You didn’t exactly tell me we were coming to see the Council,” I said, my voice clearer and higher the more this whole situation sank in.

She’d spelled me. She’d put me to sleep with her magic right outside my bedroom door at the mansion. I remember now—she’d spelled me without even saying hello, and it fucking beat me that this still surprised me.

“You were already on your way to somewhere else, if I recall correctly,” she said, turning to the shiny, polished wood of the doors in front of us.

“Was that why you didn’t ask, only knocked me out cold right away?” Again, my voice was pitched higher than usual—or maybe ever —when I spoke to Madeline. I blamed it on the nerves—and the fact that she stopped me from going to see Taland.

“It’s the Council, Rosabel. Nobody is allowed to know the location of their chambers.”

Yes, that did make sense. “A blindfold would have done the job.”

The look she gave me made my stomach twist uncomfortably. “I have no patience for blindfolds.”

I could have laughed. I think you just didn’t want me awake during the ride because then you’d have had to talk to me, ask me about the game, about anything at all. You would have had to admit that I’d won the Iris Roe.

Because she never saw that coming, I was sure of it. When she smuggled me into that game, she hoped I’d die, and then she’d have had the perfect sob story— I tried to help her, but she ran away from home and goddess knows how she managed to get in that game. She never expected me to actually win. She sent me there to die so she didn’t have to get her hands dirty herself.

“I won the Iris Roe,” I said now, just to spite her. Because this was Madeline, yes, and she scared me shitless without trying, and my instincts were broken when it came to her, but I also wanted to see the look on her face just now. I wanted to see how much she despised me, just to remind myself of it.

Curiously enough, though, when Madeline looked at me again, she didn’t despise me.

Instead, she looked… curious.

“You did. I will admit I didn’t think you had it in you.” No, you expected me to die, I thought but didn’t say. “Well done, Rosabel. I don’t know how you managed it, but well done.”

When I tell you that I almost passed out from the surprise, I am not exaggerating.

Words were stuck in my throat. Part of me thought I should say thank you, and then another part of me thought I should burst out laughing; another insisted that I ask her if she was okay, while another said I should tell her to take her pretty words and stick ‘em where the sun don’t shine because they didn’t matter shit to me.

But that’s just it— they did.

I hated it so, so much, but her words did matter. They did mean something to me and I hated her a little more for it. Well done, she said, as if she had any right.

A wave of tears hit me from somewhere deep inside, but my face was composed. I would not cry in front of her, this time not because she hated it, but simply because I was too proud.

This was the woman who’d planned to kill me because I was Mud, after all. She was a monster no matter what she looked like to the outside world.

And the people behind these doors were even worse.

“Thank you,” I said in the end, just because I was proud. Just because I’d beaten her. Just because she didn’t get to win—not this time.

“Don’t thank me yet. If your magic isn’t back…” Madeline raised a grey brow to the middle of her forehead and looked down at my hands.

Ice-cold shivers ran down my back. What? my mouth opened to ask. If my magic isn’t back, what?!

Except the words stuck in my throat because I knew what. She’d go back to her original plan to kill me.

Goddess, I hated her with every fiber of my being, but I was still a coward. I still didn’t dare let myself say anything at all for fear of my voice breaking, for fear of what I would say. She still had so much power over me; she dictated my life. She could make it easy or miserable—or end it altogether. She could.

So, I clamped my mouth shut, but luckily, I didn’t need to for long.

The lock on the other side of the polished doors turned, and the sound echoed in the tall ceiling of the hallway we were in. Come to think of it, these were the only doors I could see, but maybe more would be behind the corner to our left? Not that I had any hope of running and escaping this place—I didn’t. But I’d have maybe felt better to see an exit sign somewhere.

As it was, Madeline drew in a deep breath, straightened the jacket of her suit, and raised her chin.

The door opened before I could fill my lungs all the way. In those moments, I had no idea what it meant to be brought in front of the actual Council. I still hadn’t had time to come to terms with the fact that I’d survived the Iris Roe, and I still felt like I was half dreaming, especially since I had no idea where Taland was and if he was okay.

However, things were about to become very real for me in the next hour, and who knew if I’d ever make it out of those doors alive again?