Chapter Fifteen Jasalyn

Chapter Fifteen

Jasalyn

I DON'T KNOW IF IT'S the fresh air, the comforting closeness of Kendrick's body, or simple logic, but by the time the sun is sinking toward the horizon, my panic from the morning has dissipated. There's no way I killed all those rebels.

I remember my night very clearly. I went home with Kendrick and climbed in bed. The fact that those people are dead is nothing more than an unsettling coincidence.

It has to be. People have been dying all over the court. The deaths among this group are no different.

"Are we stopping soon?" I ask, only because my stomach is growling loud enough that even Remme can hear it from two horses ahead of us.

Skylar frowns into the distance. "Shae should've joined us by now."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Kendrick says. "Remme, what are our lodging options?"

"We passed the last good one about an hour back," he says.

I squeak. "What? Why?"

"Our friend was supposed to meet us on the road this afternoon," Kendrick explains. "He was going to take us to a place to stay for the night."

"I don't like it," Skylar says, hand on her forehead shielding her eyes from the setting sun as she scans the horizon. "What if they—"

"Don't think like that," Remme says.

"We'll find a place to make camp here," Kendrick says. "Remme, if we haven't seen him by morning, I want you to ride ahead and see what you can find out."

"I could go now," Remme says.

"No. I don't want anyone out there alone after dark. Not with what's going on."

I glance up at the cloudy sky and a prickle of dread crawls across the back of my neck. I've never felt afraid of whatever's been killing the Unseelie, but I'm pretty sure none of the dead was scared either. "I thought you said it was too dangerous to camp."

"Tonight it's our best option," Kendrick says, frowning toward the trees. "I'd rather make camp now than ride another two hours to arrive in a strange town in the dark."

Half an hour later, we've made camp in a small clearing surrounded by trees and Kendrick has some sort of stew bubbling over the fire. I don't know what's in it, but it smells amazing. The others are in the forest gathering more supplies to feed the fire overnight, and I'm cutting apples to go with our meal.

"I am sorry, for what it's worth," he says. "Our friend was supposed to have a house for us to stay at tonight—one with soft beds and clean tubs. You deserved the reprieve."

"What about you?" I ask, glancing up at him.

"I can sleep anywhere, but I wanted to give you a night of comfort—and a safe place to stay before we reach the keep."

"I don't need anything that the others can do without."

He stirs the stew, quiet for so long I think the conversation must be over, but then he finally says, "Are you sure you want to go?" He draws in a ragged breath. "When I asked you to come, I hadn't seen your scars. He hurt you there—hurt you in a way I still don't fully understand. I don't want you to face that if it's not necessary."

My skin goes cold, and I drop my knife. "Are you talking about Mordeus's dungeons?"

"Yes. Feegus Keep." When I turn to meet his gaze, he frowns. "You didn't know."

I shake my head. "No. I wasn't sure where they were. For a long time, I assumed they were in the Midnight Palace."

"The palace dungeons there were too civilized for Mordeus's liking." He grabs a stick and nudges the logs beneath the pot of stew, adjusting the flames.

"I know that now." I turn back around and stare straight ahead so he can't see my eyes. "I lived at the Midnight Palace for over a year before I had the courage to walk down to the dungeons. I'd sit in my room at night, terrified of the dark hole beneath the place my sister claimed was our true home. I'd have nightmares of waking up in my old cell."

With a curse, Kendrick abandons our dinner and comes to stand in front of me. His blue eyes burn into mine as he takes my hand and threads our fingers together.

"Ultimately," I say, swallowing around an unexpected surge of emotion, "it was Misha who convinced my sister that I needed to walk the halls of the dungeons, needed to be on the other side of the bars to convince my mind that I was truly free."

"Not a bad plan," he says softly. "If you could handle it."

"I vomited three times that morning. I would've done anything not to go—anything except letting my sister know just how horribly broken and haunted I was from those weeks. So I went. I took her hand and let her lead me down into the bowels of the palace, where she informed me we had half a dozen insurgents imprisoned for plotting against the throne. She used her own shadow magic to shield us, so the prisoners could neither see nor hear us, but I knew the moment we reached the last few steps that those dungeons were not the ones from the worst nights of my life."

"What did she say? Did she try to find where you'd been kept?"

"I never told her. I let her guide me up and down the row of cells, pretending I was looking for something familiar, as if I could have forgotten. And when we were done, she told me she was proud of me." A shiver runs through me as I remember that day, how I'd smiled as if I were healed, as if I'd faced my monster and emerged triumphant. Why tell her I would've preferred that prison to the one I knew? Why tell her nothing she could do could fix me?

"She would be proud of you even if she knew the truth."

I shrug. There are too many truths I've kept from Abriella. Perhaps some would make her proud, but others?

I would hate to see the disappointment in her eyes if she knew all my secrets.

"I hate the idea of you returning to that keep without any weapons of your own," he says.

I lift my gaze and frown. "Then arm me. Give me a dagger or a sword."

He pulls a short blade from his scabbard and places it on the table. "There's a pocket on your hip where you can hold it."

I arch a brow. "You aren't afraid I'll turn on you while you sleep?"

His grunt implies that nothing about me scares him. "I trust you to keep any murderous tendencies to yourself, but I was initially referring to magical weapons." He searches my face for a long moment. "If there was a way to awaken your dormant fae magic, would you want to?"

I take the dagger and shove it into the sheath built into my leather pants, all the while avoiding his eyes. An image of Mordeus's face flashes in my mind. Why did the gods see fit to grant such magic to a human girl?

"What if I told you I rejected that part of myself long ago?"

"It's still there. It's just sleeping."

"What about teaching me your magic? You have more than any human I've ever met."

"We were trained since childhood—potions, spells, incantations. Our parents insisted that we be versed in every magic available to us."

Even when our mother told us fanciful stories about magical worlds every night, she never taught us how to use any. "Why?"

He puts two fingers beneath my chin to tilt my face up toward his. "Because we were the ones who were supposed to lead the revolution, and they knew we'd need it."

That almost makes me smile. I've never been part of something like this before. Never had a cause. I didn't realize how good it would feel. "Why did they choose you?"

His eyes turn sad before he answers. "The oracle predicted that I would overthrow the Elora Seven. And so, for every day I've hunted Erith, he's hunted me in return."

"Is that how you got tangled up with Mordeus—back when we were in his dungeons together? Was it about the revolution?"

He pulls away, turning back to the fire. "Everything was strategic with Mordeus. I was nothing more than a chess piece." He draws in a long breath and slowly exhales. "The Seven had a sort of alliance of convenience with Mordeus and tasked him with finding and ending me, but Mordeus was far too self-serving for that. He wanted me alive for leverage—so that they would have to answer to him. It's the same reason he kept the Sword of Fire. Because they needed it. Because they knew it was their greatest weakness."

"So the oracle predicted that I would kill Erith and you would overthrow the Magical Seven?"

"Dream team, aren't we?" he says, but the words sound too heavy.

When he stares over my shoulder, I realize Remme and Skylar have returned to camp.

"Is the perimeter secure?" Kendrick asks.

Remme sighs, and Skylar lifts her chin. "We have neighbors," she says. "A group of Unseelie rebels to the east. Closer than I'd like."

"Rebels?" I ask. "Mordeus followers?"

"Interestingly enough," Skylar says, "they were talking about their king when we were checking out their camp."

"Learn anything useful?" Kendrick says, rising to his full height and wiping his hands on his pants.

"More of the same," Remme says. "They think he's been resurrected and were talking about him touring the court and blessing his followers. Obviously, they hope he'll surprise them with a visit."

Kendrick's eyes flash to mine for a beat, and I have no doubt he sees the fear in my eyes before I can lock it down. "They're fighting a losing war and desperate for something to believe in," he says softly, and I know the words are for me.

I bow my head, not wanting him to know how complicated my feelings are regarding Mordeus's return.

"Are we close enough to them that we need to move again after dinner?" Kendrick asks.

"They won't bother us if we don't bother them," Remme says, "but we should take turns on watch tonight in case any of them decide to look for trouble."

"How did it work in Elora, before the Magical Seven?" I ask after dinner. We're all gathered around the fire, and no one seems in a rush to go to sleep. Judging by the way their gazes keep drifting back toward the road, I think they're still hoping to see their friend. I'm not complaining. The moment they all fall asleep, I'll be wide awake with nothing but the darkness for company. My body may be exhausted, but my mind never rests, and I'm not looking forward to another night of fighting it. "Who was the ruling family?"

"I see how it is," Remme says.

I glance his way. "See what?"

"I talk about a time before the Elora Seven and I'm full of it, but Perfect Kendrick tells you there was a matriarchy, and all your skepticism falls away."

"Aww, are you jealous?" I ask Remme.

"Maybe a little," he mutters.

Kendrick's chest shakes with silent laughter. He's mindlessly whittling a stick with his pocketknife and occasionally tossing the shavings into the fire.

"Given that you're full of shit eighty percent of the time, I don't think we can blame the girl," Skylar says.

"Natan," Kendrick says, "would you like to answer Jasalyn?"

Natan nods, taking my question as seriously as he does any. "I've visited three realms in my years and studied seven, but none has a royalty structure quite like historic Elora."

"Wait—what?" I shake my head. "You've visited three realms? So you've been to a realm other than Faerie and Elora?"

"Three in addition to Elora," he says.

I gape. Travel between Elora and Faerie is difficult, but common compared to how closely the other realms guard their portal gates. "How? You can't be older than, what, twenty?"

" How is a story for another time," Natan says. "Do you want to know about Elora's royalty or not?"

"Yes, please."

"Before the Elora Seven stepped in and abolished the political system, Elora was long led by a matriarchy. The queen presided over lands that were divided into territories, each ruled by lords and ladies."

"That doesn't sound so different than the typical monarchy," I say.

"It's not so much the power structure that makes it stand apart," Kendrick says beside me, "but the way power is passed after the queen's served her term."

Natan nods. "Crowns and thrones weren't passed through blood in Elora. Your mother could've been the queen, but you'd have no claim to the throne, and it would be unheard of for you to be chosen as her successor."

"So how was it decided?" I ask, rolling my shoulders and trying to stretch out the soreness in my back. "By vote of the lords?"

"The oracle would name a child at her birth as the next queen, and she and her family would be moved into the palace and protected until her time to rule."

"The oracle? They let magic decide it?"

"I suppose you could say that," Natan says.

"But what about free will? What if the child made choices or led a life that made her unfit to lead? What if the child didn't want to lead? Or what if the oracle was corrupted—if someone was able to manipulate the prophecies and rig the future of the crown?"

"If that ever happened, it never made it to the history books," Natan says.

I grunt. "Well, that doesn't mean much, since this matriarchy you describe never made it to the history books either."

"It did, though. The Elora Seven just destroyed them."

"How do you know this? There's been a Magical Seven ruling Elora for almost five hundred years. How could you possibly know about what was written in books that were destroyed so long ago?"

Kendrick glances toward Natan before looking at me. "Natan's family did everything they could to preserve the true history and pass it down. He was very young when his parents were killed for it—the Elora Seven found the books they'd painstakingly preserved and destroyed them, and then executed them in front of the whole town."

My chest feels too tight. "Natan, I'm so sorry. That's awful."

Natan's staring ahead and doesn't spare me a glance. His jaw is hard, his usual softness nowhere to be found. "It was."

"It's difficult to explain," Kendrick says, "the extent of their evil. Do you see why I want you to have every possible advantage when you go after Erith?"

"I'm not exaggerating when I say I haven't had any signs of magical powers. I don't think they're there." Though Mordeus believed they were, and that was before anyone knew I was a descendant of Mab. If he was right, I never felt even a flicker of that power. Though maybe I lost it when I traded my fae life for my ring.

"Natan has worked with magic users who are blocked and helped unblock them," Kendrick says. "I think he could do that for you."

I frown. "Why would you think I'm blocked ?"

"Because, like you keep saying, you have no magic. Only that doesn't make sense. You're the descendant of one of the most powerful faeries to ever walk this realm. Her blood runs in your veins. The magic must be there. So I think we should have Natan help you find it."

"What if I'm not interested in finding it?" I ask.

Kendrick puts down his knife and studies me. "I know what the oracle showed me, Jasalyn. I had a vision of you killing Erith, but I won't send you into that fight if I think your only advantage is prophecy. Fate isn't static, and Erith is too dangerous."

"So you're worried the oracle lied to you?"

He shakes his head. "Oracles don't lie, but the future isn't set in stone. We make choices, and our paths change. The oracle can't show us everything, so we must prepare ourselves as best we can."

I consider this. "You said she gave you a vision of me killing Erith. As in, she never said my name."

"That's right," Kendrick says.

"Then how do you know it will be me and not Felicity while she's in my form?"

Skylar chuckles. "This one's smarter than Felicity."

"Felicity believes what she needs to," Kendrick says, frowning at his whittled stick.

"It doesn't matter." This comes from Remme. "Whether it's you or Felicity in your skin, we're doing everything in our power to move toward that end. It's time for the Seven to fall—and bringing down Erith is step one."

"May I ask what's so awful about having magic?" Skylar asks. She walks around the fire and lowers herself onto the ground beside me, folding her legs under her. "Do you fear the responsibility of having that kind of power or do you truly hate the fae so much that you cannot stomach the idea of being one of them?"

I'm quiet for a long time, and I consider refusing to answer at all, but there's a patience in her silence—in all their silences—that soothes me and makes me feel... understood? Accepted.

They want to understand and will accept my answer, whatever it is.

"I don't fear power, but I don't know what to do with it either," I finally say. "My sister was the one who dreamed of being powerful, who would imagine herself saving the less fortunate and punishing the cruel."

"You didn't want that?" Skylar asks, cocking her head to the side.

"I wanted it, but I never saw myself leading the charge."

"Maybe because you were always in her shadow, you never bothered to notice that you had your own light to give the world," Remme says, and it's such a tender and thoughtful sentiment coming from him that I feel my throat go thick with emotion.

"Maybe," I whisper.

"And what about the other part?" Skylar asks.

"I don't hate the fae."

He and Skylar exchange a look.

"What's that about? I don't. I have met many faeries who have earned my hatred, but I'm not so blindly prejudiced that I believe all their kind are evil. My own sister is fae."

Natan's eyes soften with his kind smile. "You see your sister as the exception." His words are gentle but firm. "Prejudice prevails beyond exceptions. Has for millennia."

I open my mouth and then close it again before dropping my gaze to my hands. "My sister's inner circle is respectable as well, but I will admit that faeries have to prove themselves to me. I can't trust them easily. And if I had to choose... yes, I wish my sister and I had never been thrust into this world and into these roles. I want our lives back as they were in Elora—without all this magic and..." Fear. I was never so afraid in Elora, but I don't say that out loud. I don't like to admit the weakness.

When I lift my head, Kendrick's watching me, his beautiful blue eyes sad.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Maybe because you are fae," Skylar says. "And it is tragic to see someone so riddled with self-loathing."

"I didn't ask for some ancient faerie queen's blood," I snap. "I do not wish to be fae, and I despise everyone treating me like I am so gods-damned lucky to have never been given a choice in the matter."

"Oh, you poor little—"

"Let it go, Skylar," Kendrick says.

She holds his gaze for a long time. Tension fills the air before suddenly falling away, as if it were never there. "No problem." She hops to her feet and brushes the dirt off her pants. "Remme, why don't you come check the perimeter with me while these two dig around in her head?"

Remme stands and awkwardly surveys the group before following her. "Let us know how it goes."

I bow my head, listening to the crunch of his boots in the leaves as he walks away.

"Don't think of it as faerie or human," Kendrick says beside me. "Think of this as a weapon—something to wield when you find yourself facing your enemies."

But what if I use it and realize I'm no better than them? What if this drive for revenge isn't just about justice but something dark inside me—the part of me that relishes others' pain in my dreams, the part of me that wants Mordeus to live for no reason other than how desperately I want to be the one to kill him for good?

Kendrick reaches for my hand and squeezes. "I'll be right here the whole time. Okay?"

I nod. Because he's right. I should know what I'm capable of. When they caught me and took my cloak, I had no defenses against them—and they only have human magic. If I'm captured again without my ring and by someone who truly wants to hurt me, I need as much power as I can get.

Natan moves to sit at my side but turns his body to face me. He taps my knee with his fingers. "Turn this way?"

Taking a breath, I swallow down my fear and do as he asks.

"This is your magic." Natan's brown eyes meet mine and there's so much kindness there, I feel myself relax. "You don't need to fear it. It answers to you. You are its master."

"Okay," I whisper. It's like the ring. I decide when I use it. I decide how.

"Close your eyes."

I obey and feel his hands settle on my knees.

"Now I want you to lower your mental shields. You're safe here. It's just me and Kendrick, and you can bring your shields back up at any time."

When Misha taught me to shield, I imagined mine built from the same cinder blocks that made the walls of our tiny basement bedroom at my aunt's house. It's thick and heavy, and I imagine taking it down block by block to clear a path in for Natan.

"Good," he says. "That's enough. Now I want you to remember a time when you were happy and safe. What do you see? How do you feel?"

I don't answer his questions out loud, but I'm there. In that stupid little basement room that was never intended to be a bedroom, that was never intended to be a home for anyone. It was cold and dark and far too small for two growing girls. Brie hated it. She hated it more than she hated Madame Vivias, I think, but I didn't. It wasn't much, but it was our space, and when we were there, the rest of the world went away.

There were no windows, but I was never afraid of the dark when we were in that room. Because I'd never known the horrors I'd face in Faerie. And because Brie was with me.

I let myself imagine lying on the bed, sleepiness making my lids heavy as Brie dresses for the day. She's telling me a story about our spoiled cousins—the girls who live upstairs who we're forced to serve and clean up after when we're not at our other jobs. They're brash and dreadfully cruel and treat us like we should thank them for the opportunity to wash their clothes, but I don't care about any of that because I'm with my sister and in this moment she's not so stressed. In this moment, she doesn't feel the weight of our debts weighing so heavily on her. She's happy, so I'm happy.

"Good job, Jas," Natan says. "You're doing great. Now I need you to imagine something that scares you."

My hands clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms.

"Shh. It's okay. You're safe. You're just picturing this fear, nothing more. Take a breath, Jas. Breathe and imagine a moment you were terrified. It doesn't have to be your worst memory. Just pick a moment of true fear."

My lungs burn when I finally force myself to draw in air. Then my hot tears are rolling down my cheeks.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?"

His hand is around my neck, and he isn't squeezing, but I know he could. He wants me to know he has the strength and the power to end me in a second.

A sob tears out of me, shaking my chest.

"Oh, come now, why are you crying? Surely I'm not that repulsive?"

His orcs laugh like this is a spectacular joke.

"They tell me you're not eating, little human, and that you're refusing to drink the water they put in your cell," Mordeus says.

I look to the male behind him—the one who's been spitting in my water—before dropping my eyes back to the ground.

He lifts my chin, but I keep my eyes cast down. "Look at me!"

I won't, but then—then I do. My body isn't my own. My eyes connect with his, and no matter how hard I try to point them elsewhere, they won't go.

"You see this? This is how it will be. You are mine . You cannot refuse me."

"That's enough!"

The sound of Kendrick's voice snaps me out of the memory and back to the present. I'm still by the fire, sitting cross-legged in front of Natan, but my body's shaking and my face is wet with tears, just like it was that day—that first time my body wasn't my own to control.

Natan is pale-faced in front of me, his eyes red, like he's been awake too long and forced to keep his eyes open.

"So?" I sniff back more tears. I'm unsteady and need to get my footing in the present, but it's hard. When I think about Mordeus, I feel like he's close. Like I carry him around with me. That's why I need to see him dead myself.

Natan's looking at Kendrick. "Nothing," he murmurs. "I went as deep as I could, and I couldn't find anything."

My chest squeezes.

"You're sure?" Kendrick asks.

"Nothing at all."

I drag in a breath, drinking in the night air, the campfire smoke, the lingering smell of dinner—anything to remind myself I'm here and not then. "So maybe I'm not fae after all." But I know it's not true.

I stand because I need to prove to myself I can.

This is my body.

I am in control.

"I need a minute." I spin to the woods and take two steps before I stop cold, staring into the darkness. Fear claws at my chest until suddenly Kendrick's hand is gripping mine and all the terror falls away.

He gives my hand a squeeze, then nods toward the trees, and I let him lead me into the darkness of the forest, where the leaves crunch under our boots and the drone of the insects grows louder.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"About what?"

"I pushed you to go there with Natan, pushed you to remember something terrible and..."

And it was all for nothing. Because I have no power at all. I squandered it to feed my darkest desires. Squandered it for a ring when I could've been part of something good for once.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

"Maybe I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. For everything—for being a scared girl, for not having any magic, for jumping at the sight of my own shadow." For trading everything for revenge.

"I think you're pretty damn brave."

I scoff. "Obviously you're not paying attention."

He stops walking and turns toward me. "There's nothing braver than doing the things that scare you."

I pull back so I can meet his eyes, search his face, study his soft mouth.

His gaze mimics mine, snagging on my mouth. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Then he backs away. One step. Two. And disappointment leaves me hollow.

A twig snaps, and Kendrick darts to put himself in front of me. Protecting me. Always protecting me.

"Skylar," Kendrick says on an exhale. "What's going on?"

"Sorry," Remme says, and I glance their way in time to see him tugging Skylar back toward camp. "We didn't mean to interrupt. It can wait."

"Say what you came to say," Kendrick says.

"We've been listening in on our neighbors," Skylar says. "Since it sounds like they're headed to the same place we are, we figured we could gather intel."

"And?" Kendrick says.

Remme looks at me and grimaces. "Whether they're right about their king or not, it sounds like Feegus Keep redoubled their security detail. Something's got them spooked."

Remme and Skylar exchange a look, then Remme bows his head.

"We heard Natan say he couldn't find any power inside her," Skylar says, waving in my direction. "We're thinking that if we want to adjust our plans for how we'll approach the keep, we should decide now and find a place for her to stay until we can get what we need."

Kendrick stiffens.

"No," I blurt, my hand instinctively pressing the ring hidden inside my cloak. "I don't want to wait anywhere. I want to go with you."

Kendrick winces. "We need to be smart about this, Slayer. You could be hurt. Or captured."

"I have a goblin bracelet." I shove out my hand and brush my fingers across the invisible threads on my wrist. "I snap a thread, and my goblin comes right away."

"But if you're truly in peril, he can't come," Skylar says.

"What? That can't be right."

Kendrick frowns at my wrist. "Didn't he tell you when he gave you that bracelet?"

I vaguely remember there being an explanation of rules when Abriella introduced me to my goblin. But everything was so foggy back then—the world muffled under the heavy blanket of my memories. It was hard to listen for details when I was focusing on taking my next breath.

"Why not?" I ask.

"The goblins' code forbids them from interfering with fate. So when you snap a thread on your bracelet and you're captured without a path of escape..." Remme says.

Skylar nods. "If death is imminent, they can't interfere."

"But Brie's goblin—Bakken?—he saved her once." I look at each of their faces, desperately wanting them to be wrong about this, and not just because I want to go with them to have my chance at finding Mordeus. This bracelet has given me a certain sense of security for years, and if they're right, I never should've trusted it to get me out of a mess. "She'd stolen something from a Seelie castle, and the guards were coming for her. She snapped a thread on her bracelet, and Bakken came and got her."

"And this Bakken is still around?" Skylar asks, brows high.

"He's her goblin to this day."

Remme shakes his head. "Then either those guards would never have laid a finger on her or she somehow proved that she could handle them herself."

I smile. I might not love faeries or magic, but I always enjoy stories of my sister being a badass. "She threw a blanket of shadow on all of them before Bakken would take her."

"Then he didn't break any rules," Kendrick says, his words so measured I know doesn't like having to break this to me. "The only way goblins can work around the rule is if the person they come for has a clear path for escape—or if they call for the goblin before death is reaching for their hand."

"What keeps the goblins from breaking the code?" I ask.

"They have free will, just like we do," Remme says, "but they can't break the code without consequence."

I frown down at my bracelet. My goblin can be a know-it-all jerk, but I thought he cared about me. It hurts to think he'd leave me at the will of my enemies because of some code. "What's the consequence?"

"They cease to be," Kendrick says. "Their lives are ended."

Remme holds Kendrick's gaze, and his voice is soft as he says, "We need to find somewhere for her to stay while we evaluate the situation at Feegus Keep. We can't risk losing her on a simple perimeter breach when we need her for Erith."

"I can help," I say. I sound like I'm begging, but if they've increased security at the keep, I wonder if it's because Mordeus is there. "I can get us in."

Remme frowns. "Say that again."

"This is a big compound, right? Like if we can get past the guards at the gates and maybe put on the appropriate uniforms, no one will know we shouldn't be there once we're inside?"

"It's not that easy," Skylar says. "These aren't some easily distracted boys sitting at the gates. They're sentinels that are trained to kill first and ask questions later."

I swallow. When she puts it that way, it sounds terrifying, but it's no different than any other time I've put on the ring. "I can do it. I can get us in."

"You're going to have to give us more than that, Slayer," Kendrick says.

If I don't tell them now, I could miss my chance to get to Mordeus. "I have a magic ring. I got it from a witch in Elora. I wanted to be able to come and go from the Midnight Palace as I pleased, and I needed to be safe doing so—for people to do as I said and not remember that I'd been with them."

Kendrick studies me. "What happens when you put it on?"

"People do as I say."

"Bullshit," Remme mutters.

"Not likely," Skylar adds. "No offense. I'm sure it feels like it's working. But magic that powerful isn't that simple."

I sigh. "Fine," I say, pulling it from my cloak. "I'll show you."