Chapter Nine Felicity
Chapter Nine
Felicity
S HE HAS A FRIEND.
The nights are still too dark, and the conditions are still wretched. Everything hurts. Her bones and muscles from sleeping on this hard, cold floor, her stomach from too little food, her throat from too many tears. But they threw another girl into her cell—a human girl. Fair-haired and fine-featured, like an angel. Terrified, like her.
Jas watches her from the opposite corner of the cell, and for the first time since she was thrown into this place, she feels... better. Calmer. I'm not alone.
The girl wipes her eyes and squints at Jas. A tiny stream of light comes in the slit of a window in the corridor, and she can see wispy white hair, light blue eyes.
"What's your name?" she asks.
Jas blinks at her. She hasn't spoken in days, and her throat is still raw from all those hours of wasted tears.
"I'm Crissa," the girl says.
Jas swallows. "Jasalyn." The three syllables come out scratchy. She doesn't recognize her own voice.
"Who are you?" Crissa asks.
She frowns and repeats herself, trying to make her unused voice louder this time. "Jasalyn."
Crissa smiles. Her tear-filled eyes shine in the light. "Yes, you told me your name. I'm wondering who you are. Why are you in here?"
Jas shakes her head. "I don't know."
"Mordeus always has his reasons."
Jas stares at the window in the corridor. She's been here long enough to know the patterns. When the sun streams in like that, dusk comes soon after and then the darkness.
A baby cries in the next cell. There's a stone wall, so she can't see the woman, but she's heard her cooing to her child, heard her begging the guards for more food and water so her body can produce the milk her baby needs.
"I have friends who will come for me," Crissa whispers. "Will someone come for you?"
Her sister will. No one is braver than Brie. But why is it taking her so long?
Crissa crawls across the cell on her hands and knees and touches two fingers to the back of Jas's hand. Jas sags in relief. It feels like a lifetime since anyone touched her with kindness.
"You aren't hurt?" she asks, scanning her face.
Jas hesitates. There are no marks on her skin, no bruises on her face. Even the spot where the king sliced her hand open is completely healed. So completely that she's not sure if it really happened or if it was a dream. "No."
"You are very pretty," she says, stroking Jas's hair. "I'm sorry you're stuck here."
"My sister will find me. She'll find me and take me home."
She gives me a sad smile. "She will rescue you, but you'll have to find yourself."
Jas doesn't know what that means, and she's suddenly too tired to care. There are places so dark, you can never find your way back.
"Bakken, please take my sister to Castle Craige," the queen says. "We will send her things along after her."
The goblin arches an unruly brow at Abriella before turning and looking me over. The shadow queen's personal goblin knows that I am not the princess.
When transformed, I am an exact replica of my subject the moment they shed their hair—and that includes scent. No keen faerie nose will ever sniff out an Echo as an impostor. But goblins always know—which would've been fine if I could've called Jasalyn's goblin, who she's asked to answer to me, but the queen called hers.
"This girl here?" he asks the queen.
Abriella frowns. "Yes, Bakken. Misha is expecting her."
I do my best to silently plead with the drooling, bug-eyed creature. Don't tell her. Let this be.
"As you wish, Your Majesty." He offers me his hand and I take it, heart pounding wildly as I mentally give thanks to the bond whatever long-ago ancestors formed between Echoes and goblins.
In the next moment, we're nothing. Spinning and turning and frozen all at once. Until we're standing at the base of a set of polished wooden stairs in the most beautiful place I've ever been.
"Thank you, Bakken," a husky voice says behind me.
I spin around and find myself staring at a broad chest cloaked in a viridescent tunic. I crane my neck to see his face. "King Misha." I sound breathless. Maybe I am.
I've only seen the golden-skinned male in paintings and heard him described in stories, and yet in person he's even more stunning and handsome than I could've prepared myself for. He's not just tall and broad. He has a presence that seems to take up the whole room. His black hair is silky and long enough I can imagine running my fingers through it—the gods certainly know most of the marriageable females in this realm have been imagining just that since he and the Wild Fae queen dissolved their marriage last year.
" King Misha now, is it?" He turns his head side to side, inspecting me. The silver webbing on his forehead glows with the same intensity as his upturned russet eyes. They're certainly peering into me right now. I can feel his talons digging into my mind, trying to get inside as he examines every inch of my face. When his eyes meet mine, I hold his gaze as steadily as I hold my shields. When it comes to mental shielding, I have more experience than the princess. And more to lose if I fail.
I meet his scrutiny with a stubborn lift of my chin.
He gives me a tight smile and a sharp nod. "Welcome to Castle Craige, Princess."
"Jas," I correct, just as Jasalyn would. I don't know why she objects to her title or if she's even conscious of it, but she made it clear she prefers her given name or Jas for family and friends.
His jaw is tense, making me wonder how he really feels about having the Unseelie princess in his castle. "It's past time you visited my lands."
Bakken looks me over one last time, shakes his head, then disappears.
Misha waves a hand to indicate the space around us, which feels simultaneously like the hall of a grand palace and the center of the wilderness. A burbling brook runs through the center of the flagstone floor, and the stair rail is a formation of branches and bows that seem to have grown from the earth for that very purpose.
The evening sun plays off the colorful autumn leaves in the woodland canopy covering the open-air hall, casting dappled shade all around us.
"What happens when they shed their leaves for winter?" I ask without thinking.
"Just when the air cools enough to bite, the leaves make way for the sun to warm these halls," the king says, studying the canopy. "Mother Nature tends to us when we let Her."
He steps into a sunny spot, and his black hair gleams. When he meets my gaze, he arches a brow. I'm staring.
I drop my gaze to the floor and focus on making myself as small as possible.
"Shall I show you your quarters?" he asks, gesturing toward the stairs.
"Yes. Please. Thank you." I duck my head and lift my skirts, following him up the stairs.
The hall at the top is lined with doors on one side, but the other side is a railing that overlooks the passage below, where the creek cuts through the hall with a comforting burble.
He opens a door and gestures for me to lead the way inside.
The room is large and airy with high ceilings and big windows that overlook the wooded valley beyond the castle. A massive four-poster bed sits against one wall, and a bathing room is opposite the windows.
The king waves toward a work desk in the corner. "There's some muslin, various needles, and thread as well as bolts of half a dozen fabrics, though your handmaid can let my staff know if you need something specific."
Unfortunately, when I take the form of another, I don't get their skills along with their shape. I hope the king doesn't ask me to sew him something while I'm here. I can stitch a tear in a seam competently enough, but I wouldn't know the first thing about designing or sewing an entire gown. "I don't need anything more," I say. "I don't sew much these days."
"That's what your sister said." He studies me, worry creasing his brow. "Is there a reason for that?"
Because she's too busy fantasizing about murdering a resurrected evil king?
I shrug. "It no longer interests me."
Misha folds his arms and rocks back on his heels. "And what does interest you, Pri—Jasalyn?"
I shrug again, only because I believe Jas would do the same. "My sister said you have a lovely library."
"Indeed. You can find it if you continue down that hall and go up the flight of stairs at the end. It was one of her favorite places in the castle when she stayed here."
"Thank you."
"I'm headed to the village in a bit." He strolls toward the sewing table and examines its contents before glancing at me over a shoulder. "Could I convince you to join me? The ride is almost as lovely as the market itself. We could have dinner together at one of my favorite restaurants there."
That sounds amazing, and I'd love to see it. I grew up on horseback and miss being able to ride regularly. But I shake my head and glance toward the bed. "I'm feeling tired, and I'd like to retire for the evening."
"It's early yet."
"It's later in the Unseelie Court." I yawn to drive my point home.
That wrinkle reappears between his brows. "Perhaps the exercise would invigorate you. I always find—"
"Please? We all agree that this is the safest place for me, but I'm here now. I just need some time to settle."
His gaze bores into me, and I can practically feel the intensity of his displeasure. "I wish you'd let me into that head of yours." He drags a chair out from under the table, and it groans against the stone floor. He lowers himself onto it and braces his hands on his knees. "I don't know what your sister's told you, but I didn't bring you to Castle Craige to make you my wife." The corner of his mouth twitches upward. "When I marry again, it will be for love, and while I may suspect your sister is trying to play matchmaker, you and I both already know we're not compatible."
The shadow princess and the Wild Fae king? Maybe Hale was onto something with his whole seduction plan.
Misha clears his throat. "I'm trying to say that you don't need to worry about me coming between you and your baker—baker's son ? You couldn't even find a male that does the baking himself?"
I shoot him a glare.
Misha laughs. The sound is deep and full, and does something funny to my stomach. "You're in my lands so that you'll be safe, not so I can bed and wed you."
Well, now I feel sorry for the princess. Misha isn't just a king. He's handsome and charming, and if today's introduction is any indication, he's also warm and kind and caring. If Jasalyn knew what was good for her, she'd find out what her sister has planned and make it happen.
But she wouldn't want that. She'd be horrified by the idea of marrying a faerie. Almost as horrified as she is by the idea of becoming one.
"I'm tired," I say, because Jasalyn wouldn't entertain this conversation.
He nods sharply. "Of course. Just let your handmaid know if you change your mind about dinner." He backs toward the door. "Rest well. You'll be joining me for training before breakfast."
"What?"
His grin is so deliciously cocky I'm not sure how he's not constantly being chased by females who want to kiss it off his face. "Training. You know, with swords and bows. I'll see you at sunrise."
I could've said yes to dinner. Maybe that would've been the wise thing to do, but my days at Castle Craige must be a careful balancing act. On the one hand, if I'm to somehow convince Misha to reveal the location of his sacred Hall of Doors, I need to get close to him. On the other hand, I can't be too available. Jas has spent the last three years hiding in her room and pushing away everyone who tries to get close to her. If I suddenly seem eager to make friends, Misha will be suspicious.
Hale's plan is the most obvious. Legend says, after all, that the queen learns the location of the Hall of Doors upon her coronation, and perhaps he'd be willing to share with a trusted lover if she had a compelling reason to need the information. However, I suspect it would take many months if not years to earn that level of trust. Since every day that I spend in this form is a day I could be exposed, I'll have to find another way to get Hale the information he needs.
I know what I need to do.
I run my fingertips over the threads of my goblin bracelet. It's not quite like the one I saw on Jasalyn's wrist, but it's similar enough in function. Like mine, hers is invisible to the naked eye. Only the owner of a goblin bracelet can see its delicate strands. With two exceptions: goblins and Echoes.
Long ago, Echoes came through the portal to save goblinkind. If it hadn't been for my ancestors, goblins would've been lost as a casualty of one of the most brutal battles of the Great Fae War, but my kind did theirs a favor the goblins still believe is unpaid. To this day, each Echo is gifted with a goblin guardian at birth and a goblin bracelet on her seventh birthday, as well as the rare ability to see what only goblins could see before. Unlike others, we know if someone we meet has a goblin working with them, and we get to use our bracelets without any expectation of payment.
I pluck a thread and Nigel appears in my chambers, grinning at the sight of me. His yellow, pointy teeth are covered with a greenish slime from a dinner of which I'd rather not know the details. "Felicity," he says. "Beautiful girl. It's been so long. What brings you to the Wild Fae territory?"
"One of your kin brought me—the shadow queen's goblin. He saw me for who I was, and I don't think he was pleased."
Nigel sniffs. "Of course he did. My kind do not have the easily fooled eyes of humans and fae."
I hold up my arms. "I am an Echo. I shouldn't have to worry that a goblin will betray me."
"Bakken is partial to his queen, but he won't betray your identity." He scans the room. "I see you've begun a new adventure."
"So it seems," I say with a sigh. "And if all goes well, I go home at the end of it all."
He cocks his head at me. "The child speaks of home as if she is grown and has built one of her own."
I glare at him. "I miss my mother."
"You miss your ignorance. You want to be fifteen again and believe you are just another adopted child taken in by a loving family. You don't want to face the truth."
I do miss those days—before Erith's men came for me and my adoptive father was killed trying to protect me, before my mother confessed the truth of my birth, before I went to the oracle and discovered the horrible choice I was faced with. "I saw my brother today." I sit on the floor, folding my legs under me.
"Your brother lives in the Eloran Palace and has servants hunting you in every realm."
I scowl. "Sharing a womb with someone does not make them your brother."
"You saw Kendrick the Chosen," he corrects me. "And now you feel happy and sad and guilty all over again?"
"Pretty much." Leave it to Nigel to summarize my emotions so succinctly. "I can't help but feel like everything is my fault."
"Fault is so sticky—" he says.
"When no action lives in isolation," I finish. He's been saying these words to me since I was a little girl trying to shirk responsibility for breaking my mother's favorite garden ornament during a fight with Hale. "I know. I know."
"Do you?" He picks something from his teeth.
I cringe and change the subject. "When Jasalyn was Mordeus's captive, Crissa was there."
"You knew he had captured her."
"Yes, but isn't it interesting that he had them put in the same cell?" I've been thinking about this since last night's dream, and I'm not sure what to make of it. "Mordeus had to have done that for a reason."
"But this is not the question you called me here for. Tell me, child. I don't have all night."
I sigh. He either doesn't know the reason behind Mordeus's choice or he isn't going to tell me. But he's right. I called him to answer a different question. "The Hall of Doors," I say. "Is it real?"
He chuckles. "Of course. The child only calls when she has too great a favor to ask."
"Well, I would hate to waste your time with tedious favors," I say, smiling at my old friend.
He rubs his belly, and I suspect he ate too much of that slimy-green-whatever before I called for him.
"Is it real?" I ask again.
"Yes," he says. "Very real, and very secret."
"Where can I find the Wild Fae Hall?"
"You know I can't tell you that. You'd be better off finding the Sword of Fire."
As if my brother hasn't been killing himself trying. I cock my head to the side. "You know if this all ends with Erith finding me, I will die."
"He won't find you. You're too smart for that." He clucks. "The Hall of Doors is a magical hallway, and nothing so completely made of magic needs a fixed location. In fact, it would be dangerous for the Wild Fae to keep it in one place. Too easy for one to stumble upon it or to share the secret."
"Yes," I agree. "So where is it now ? Tell me where to look, Nigel."
"I can only tell you to follow your heart. You know King Misha is in want of a new wife."
Groaning, I fall onto my back and stare at the ceiling. "Not you too. We don't have time for that."
"You have your whole life to fall in love."
Sitting up, I fold my arms. "The Hall of Doors, Nigel. Focus. "
"You aren't looking for the hall full of portals, my dear. You're looking for the single door, the single portal that leads to the hall of portals."
I close my eyes and nod. That makes perfect sense. Why waste all the time and magic to continuously move the countless portals that are rumored to be in the Hall of Doors when they can place the Hall behind a single portal and move that portal at will?
"Okay," I say. "And where can I find—" But then I realize my goblin has already left—his favorite way to tell me he's not sharing any more information. "Good night, Nigel," I tell the air where he stood a moment ago. "It was good to see you."