CHAPTER 29

AUREN TURLEY

To enter the city of Lydia, you have to pass under an arch made of translucent rock that matches the color of the lavender sky. It stands at least thirty feet high between two twisting trees, and there's a road of pewter gray bricks that leads you in.

Right now, that road is busy with fae flowing past. I have a feeling that all these people entering the city have to do with the commotion I heard.

A few city guards stand beside the arch, their gazes skimming the crowd as they wave people through. I stay behind the tree line, chewing on my bottom lip as I watch. There's a dirt road that curves from the forest to my right, which is full of fae passing by to go into the city. Some are on horseback, while others are on foot.

I eye every group. If I'm going to get past the city entrance, I need to be able to blend in.

I glance down at the golden chest plate I made for myself. I'm slightly regretting that decision right about now. It's going to make me stick out like a sore thumb even more than I already do, but…I look at the way it stretches around my waist, encasing my torso perfectly in elaborate rivulets of melded metal. Not only does it make me feel stronger, it's pretty too.

Bright side.

My brow instantly furrows, a lost memory clinking against a hollow space in my head.

Bright side …

I can hear myself saying that at another place. Another time. It feels so familiar.

But the strained recollection is pulled away when my gaze snags on a fae riding alone atop his horse, petting at the animal's long blue braided mane. Right there on one of the saddlebags is a gray cloak draped over the top of it.

I dart forward. With the trees growing so dense and close to the road, it's surprisingly easy. Staying behind a thick rope of leaves that dangle in front of me, I wait, and then right as he passes by, one of my ribbons plucks the cloak from its spot.

As soon as I slip it over me, my nose wrinkles at the unfamiliar scent. I don't like smelling this male. It doesn't reek or anything like that, but for some reason, it bothers me. But it's better than getting spotted by the city guards before I can even get through the arch.

Making sure to secure the clasp at the neck, I fix the draping fabric, tucking it around my front. I glance down at the ribbons curling around the forest floor, their lengths fluttering through the grass and wildflowers. Even though I'm loath to tuck them away, I have to, so I wrap them around my waist and then give them a reassuring pat through my cloak.

Taking a fortifying breath, I pull up the hood and then dart out past the net of trees and onto the road behind a group of walking fae. I match their pace, keeping my face tilted down, but not too much that I draw attention.

The road bends around, and I allow myself a quick glance up at the arch as I pass beneath it. Then, I'm swallowed up by the shade of the trees, bare feet tracking over the smooth bricks of the city's road.

Lydia is a tangle of braided trees that drift far up into the sky, and beautiful buildings that somehow look both quaint and dazzling. They're made up of smooth stones, sparkling glass, steeples and arched doorways.

Some of the buildings are even woven into the thick trees themselves, blending with the nature that seems to hold magic in the air. It feels both ancient and exciting to be on these streets. I can practically feel centuries' worth of other fae walking along this very same path. Maybe someone else who was once just as awed as I am now.

The crowd today seems to move with one mind though, not taking in the sights. Instead of looking up at the high branches draping down with pods of lights that dangle prettily from the vines, they're all surging ahead with excitement. So I follow the herd, and the cheering and applause that I'd heard before lifts into the air again.

When the throng is clogged to a stop, I break off, slipping down a tight space between two buildings. I have to go sideways as I squeeze my way through, but then I get out to the next street over.

It's busier here. There are people above, standing on rooftops and even hanging from the branches of the loping trees. Even the canal I can see from beneath an arched bridge is full of boats.

More cheers rise.

Something urges me on, so despite the street being crammed, I start making my way through, winding past bodies, using every available space. When there isn't any, I simply make space and shove my way past.

Finally, just past a large flowing fountain, the street opens up to a half circle of descending steps. Instead of normal stairs, each step is about as wide as I am tall. A few areas even hold closed-up carts and fastened barrels, as if this space is used for an open-air market. Though right now, it serves a different purpose.

At the bottom of the wide circular stone arena, there's an outdoor theater set up. The wooden platform rests on the sunken ground, with fabric hanging at the back of the stage that has landscapes painted on it. Behind that is an enclosed area, maybe to keep props and performers.

People applaud just as two performers come out from behind the painted drapery. An ample-chested fae female with a bright pink dress inundated with frills comes hurrying out. Right on her heels is a male with green hair whose vest is open, showing off his tanned torso. Both of them have exaggerated rouge and lip stain, with dark liner along their eyes. The female's cleavage gleams with gold shimmer to draw the eye.

Frilly Dress whirls around the prop table, pretending to fuss and straighten plates. "Come, it's time for our dinner meeting!"

"Dinner meeting?" the male asks curiously as he sits.

Their voices easily carry over the crowd, either from the acoustics or magic.

Another performer comes bustling out on the stage then—a male with black and gray dots in his hair like a spotted fish. He must be a popular actor, because the crowd cheers wildly as soon as he enters.

"Welcome, welcome! Please, sit!" the frilly female tells him.

"What's all this about, my sweet?" Green Hair says to her.

"Can't you see? He's a Vermin!" the female exclaims excitedly as she sits down.

The spotted-hair male clears his throat. " Vulmin ," he corrects, and then he points at a big wooden emblem hanging around his neck. It's the symbol of the bird with the broken wing.

A frown digs between my brows.

She waves. "Same thing."

Laughter sounds off throughout the audience, the word vermin repeated.

"He's going to make me a queen!" she goes on excitedly, clapping her hands as she bounces in her seat. She looks perilously close to having her breasts spill out of her low-cut dress—probably the point.

Green Hair frowns. "What are you on about?"

"Well, I'm a Turley, aren't I?" she says with a huff. "The Vermin say my family should be the ones ruling Annwyn!"

My stomach drops. Shock and confusion whirl through me.

Why are they talking about the Turleys?

He scrunches up his face. "You're a Turley?" he asks dubiously, then pauses, tapping his chin in thought. "Is that why your tits are gold?"

Crude snickering bursts around me, making me flinch at the people I'm pressed against in the crowd. My pulse stretches, wrapping around my muscles and making them go tense.

"That's right," Frills nods excitedly, turning to the fake Vulmin as she runs her hand along her cleavage. "Do you want to see?"

Her question spurs the amusement of the spectators even more. One male next to me shouts at her to give them a flash.

Anger, embarrassment, confusion, it all writhes through my nerves, coiling me tight. But then I remember something.

Cruel, sharp words that sliced through me.

Don't give them a martyr. Give them a mockery.

My vision nearly tunnels with the words. With the satirical and taunting laughter that seems to be closing in around me.

Green Hair leaps up from his chair and comes around to the actress. "No, he does not want to see." He lifts Frills up from the chair. "Wait a moment, didn't you have an uncle who took golden shits?"

People in the crowd snicker. My cheeks begin to burn, hands shaking beneath my cloak.

"No!" Frills says indignantly, crossing her arms in front of her to prop up her breasts even more. Then pauses. "It was his piss. Though it was hard to tell."

Another round of laughter bursts from the city square, while anger boils up my throat and singes the back of my tongue.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm a Turley, so I can be queen! I can have fabulous balls and take everyone's money and make them all bow to me!" she exclaims ecstatically.

Is this the truth? Is this a real story about my family?

But no. That doesn't feel right. This feels exactly like what that voice suggested. A mockery.

A mockery of the Turleys. A mockery of me .

Someone dashes out from behind the curtains and onto the stage. It's a female who has her lips painted a gaudy, yellowed gold, the color exaggerated to make her lips seem much bigger than they really are. "If anyone should be queen, it should be me!" she shouts as she comes up to Frills. "I'm more golden than you!"

Frills rolls her eyes. "Please, those lips are good for nothing!"

"That's not what your husband said last night!" the actress petulantly snaps before she spins and bends over, hiking up her skirts. "And your lips can kiss my a—"

Frills screeches and acts like she's going to pounce on her, but Green Hair holds her back.

"Ladies, ladies," the Vulmin performer shouts, easing between them. "Please, you can both live in the palace!"

They both straighten up, eyes snagging on him with hunger. "We can?" they ask in unison.

"Of course," he says smoothly. "You deserve it!"

"Because we're Turleys," Frills says with a nod.

"Exactly!" the Vulmin performer purrs. "All of Annwyn needs to be under the boot of the Vermin…" He shakes his head and pretends to slap himself. The crowd eats it up, offering him jeering titters. "What am I saying? I meant the Turleys! Annwyn is meant to be ruled by the Turleys . And anyone who disagrees needs to die."

The crowd boos and hisses on cue.

"Yes!" Frills exclaims delightedly. "Kill everyone who doesn't want to be ruled by us."

The one with the painted lips clasps her hands and beams. "We're going to be royals!"

Interrupting their celebration, a voice suddenly booms from behind the stage. "The only thing you're going to be is under arrest for committing treason against the good and benevolent King Carrick!"

Two actors dressed as guards come on the stage, wooden swords painted to look like marble. "We won't let you evil, selfish Turley traitors ruin Annwyn!"

People cheer.

This is ridiculous, dumbed-down, and openly vulgarized propaganda. And yet, the crowd is eating it up.

But as I glance around at everyone on the steps, seeing their smiles, hearing their laughter and their jeers, I realize that I'm wrong.

Not everyone is eating it up.

There are those in the crowd that I spot. Males standing stock-still, tension in their jaws as they watch. Females without even so much as a smirk on their faces. A fae just five people to the left of me grinds his teeth and looks at someone else in the crowd. I follow his line of sight to another male and realize with a jolt that there's a pin of the broken-winged bird emblem at the fold of his cloak. The same one from the ring that's currently in my pocket.

The stage snatches my attention when the female actresses screech and run around the table in a comical display of trying to evade the guards. Frills bounces around so much that most of her glittery breasts are working to free themselves from her top.

"Don't take me. It was him!" She shoves the fake Vulmin toward the guards. "It's the Vermin's fault!"

" Vulmin !" he snaps just before the guard comes forward and slaps a shackle on his wrist. He starts to pretend to struggle, face growing indignant. "You'll pay for this! The Vulmin should rule Annwyn!"

Frills gasps. "Hey! You said the Turleys were supposed to!"

Before he can answer, the Vulmin is dragged off the stage, while she and Green Hair stomp after him, disappearing behind the curtain with a shout. "Down with the Vermin!"

Then it's just the yellow-lipped female and the other guard left. She puts on a sweet smile and bats her eyelashes at him. "How about instead of arresting me, I use my lips to make you feel golden, good sir?"

Shouts of Turley whore and traitor burst from the spectators, making rot and gold smear against my fisted palms.

"Nice try, Turley scum," the guard says, "but I'm loyal to the rightful ruler, King Carrick!"

King Carrick—that crowned fae with the hard, cruel eyes. The one who threatened me. Locked me in that cell. Made Una use her magic on my mind.

My anger twists and knots, and my blood steams beneath my skin, making veined gold puddle at my feet.

I wish I remembered everything. Wish I could know the nuances I've lost. But I don't need all my memories to know that this whole spectacle is pure vilification. Of the Vulmin, of my family, and of me.

Rotting just one of those memory worms drained me and took hours, but I'm going to uncover every single thing King Carrick stole from me, and I'm going to make him pay.

I'm glad I'm covered beneath this cloak where no one can see my face, because my anger burns straight through my eyes.

The actress makes an exaggerated pout with her painted lips as she's dragged away. Then the performers come back out to take a collective bow to the cheers and applause of the spectators while my magic continues to pool.

While I continue to seethe.

Once the performers leave, a hush descends in the arena. Behind the stage, where the half circle of steps are split apart, there's another street directly across from me. I see a line of soldiers marching on it, heading this way. They file in with synchronized footsteps and then stomp up the arena's wide steps to my left, forcing people to clear the way.

A male wearing a furred mantle and a stone crown on his head walks in the middle of them.

King Carrick.

He ascends the arena, and once he's at the top step to look down upon the stage below, he turns.

With a flick of his hand, the stone wall behind him shifts and forms into a throne. He takes a seat as his guards take position behind him. The quieted crowd begins to murmur, and I can feel their excitement mounting.

My fiery, hateful gaze stays latched on his face and my ribbons tighten around me. More gold bubbles up to gather at my feet, thickening beneath my bare soles. Clotting with fury.

"Lydians!" a fae calls as he walks out onto the stage with his arms outstretched in a flourish. He's dressed in bright purple, his sleeves puffed and hat feathered.

"We know these rumblings of the Vulmin fanatics have caused trouble in our beautiful land for too long!" he says as he strides from one end of the stage to the other. "They have disrupted our way of life, and they have sullied Annwyn with their cowardly actions and their sabotaging insurgency."

Maybe I'm imagining it, but I feel tension sprouting in the air.

"But the Vermin's mutinies have shown their true colors, because our king has exposed their lies!" His voice carries, every performed word calculatingly convincing. "People of Lydia, we have the truth with us here today. The Vulmin aren't as strong as they would have you believe."

He pauses dramatically, and the crowd seems to collectively lean in, waiting on his next words, while others seem to go still, that tension in the air coming from the same ones who didn't laugh at the play.

"Everyone is turning on them…including their own so-called Dawn's Bird."

Movement cuts through the soldiers lining the street behind the stage, and then I see a figure being led forward by guards.

Murmurs erupt through the crowd.

My breath stops. My eyes widen.

Because the next figure that stands upon the stage…is me .