“Mother said they believe they’ve found my mate.” Another giggle. “Can you believe it? I think they’re trying to make it up to me, not allowing me to go to the Feast of the Fae so I could have my chance to get that ring.”
“I still can’t believe they’re saying some first-year changeling found it.” She rolled her golden eyes. “Clearly, there was a mistake. Some changeling isn’t going to be wed before us, not some unknown first-year anyway.”
“The ring was obviously confused,” the third girl said. “We weren’t there. So, it must have meant to go to one of us. I think that means you’ll be wed, Cecily. Maybe your mother really has found your mate.”
The three of them started giggling again, and I fought the urge to drop the shadows just so I could roll my eyes right into their faces. But I had more important things to worry about, so much so that I couldn’t believe I’d ever been worried about the Barmbrack Ring. Whatever it meant didn’t matter, not when Rourke had been captured, and not when the entire realm was on the brink of a terrible war.
So, I merely gave them an invisible eye-roll and waited for them to head inside the castle. I followed close behind, keeping my feet in time with theirs. The floors of the castle were pure stone, and the high-vaulted ceilings rivalled those of the Summer Court. There was no doubt in my mind that the tiniest whisper of a noise would echo in this expansive space.
I had to keep myself silent.
The girls trailed off down a hallway on the left, but I stayed behind in the hall. It was impossible to know where to go next. There were no signs pointing the way. No flashing neon lights that said, “Dungeons this way” or “We’re keeping Rourke trapped here!”
So, I was going to have to find Rourke some other way.
The sound of distant voices drifted toward me from the hall opposite to one I’d just seen the Royals disappear into. These voices were deeper and louder. Several males talking over each other, almost to the point where they were shouting. I took a deep breath, focused on the shadows I still kept tight around me, and ducked behind the nearest statue. Even though I knew I was invisible, I felt the inexplicable urge to hide.
When they walked into the room, I understood why. The voices belonged to three Hunters—two of whom had been in the Wilde Fae village that night—and a female. A female whose face had burned into my brain. It was Queen Viola, of course, with her face full of sharp lines. She seemed distracted from whatever her underlings were arguing about, flicking her eyes around the room as if in search of something.
Heart lurching, I eased away from the edge of the statue and stayed as silent and as still as I could. My heart was roaring, so loud that it was deafening, but surely she couldn’t hear the blood rushing through my veins like I could.
“Enough,” she said in an icy, yet lyrical voice. The kind of voice that sounded like an axe, one that could sink into flesh and bone. “This is my home. I will not have you acting like vexing Summer fae, shouting over each other like that. We are Autumns. We do not have outbursts. Do you understand?”
“Apologies, my Queen.” The Hunter nodded, the only one of them I hadn’t seen in the village. “I am just…annoyed. We had a firm fix on the changeling, and they let her get away from them. I am also not entirely thrilled about the death of the shopkeeper. She was a good ear on the ground for us.”
“An utterly replaceable ear,” the Queen said dismissively as she sniffed at the air. “And I have alternative plans for the changeling, ones I cannot share with the entirety of my Hunters. You understand, of course. We must keep secrets secret.”
“Yes, of course, my Queen.”
“Good. Now, return to your posts. I need to speak to Tavin alone.” As I leaned forward, I saw the Queen flick her fingers at two of her Hunters, dismissing them without another word. Two of the Hunters scurried off, leaving the Queen alone with the male fae I’d watched slice the shopkeeper’s neck.
The very sight of him brought back vivid memories I wanted nothing more than to forget. All that blood. All the gore. That strange smile that had been fixed on his face. Finn had once told me that Autumn fae were obsessed with death. Now, I understood what he meant.
“It seems that everything is in place,” the Queen said, weaving her hands behind her back as she eased across the hall in her golden gown, the trailing bottom edges whooshing against the stone floor.
The Hunter’s eyes flicked this way and that, as if he were confirming that no other listeners were around. “Yes, my Queen. I believe so.”
“Good, good.” She stopped, reached out, and caressed a painting on the wall. One that depicted a battle of sorts, one that was very much over. Bodies littered the ground, and one sole living being stood amongst them. A beautiful but deadly female fae, one that looked strikingly like the Queen.
The Hunter cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Would you like the report on the Spring Court’s movements, my Queen?”
“Yes, Tavin.” She gave a curt nod. “Do go on.”
“The Spring Court has been gathering their forces this past week. According to my spy, their army plans to attack the Winter Court in three day’s time. At dawn, I believe. We’ll have no need to attack either Court ourselves. We can wait until they’ve taken each other out, and then swoop in to pick up the pieces.”
What? It took everything in my power not to make a sound in reaction to that. The Spring Court had plans to attack the Winter fae? But why? And on what basis? Sure, those two Courts weren’t great fans of each other, but the same could be said about all the seasons. Still, it shouldn’t matter. The Winter Court wasn’t the enemy right now. Autumn was.
Something must have provoked this. There could be no other explanation.
“Thank you, Tavin. That will be all.” The Queen gave a curt nod and pressed her hands down the front of her glistening dress. “Oh, and could you check in to see how our prisoner is doing? He’s a tricky one. We wouldn’t want him to find the keys when we weren’t looking, now would we?”
The Hunter gave a nod and scurried off down the hall in the direction they’d come. The Queen kept her gaze locked on the painting, an image I hoped I could forget soon enough. A part of me knew the more information I could get, the better, but I was pretty sure I’d heard enough to give the Hunters something to do. And Rourke needed me. I was the only hope he had of getting out of here, and this moment right now might be my only chance.
With one last glance at the Queen, I hurried after the Hunter down a hallway lined with flickering sconces. Shadows danced on the walls, clusters of darkness I used to keep myself hidden from Autumn fae eyes. At the end of the hallway, we made a sharp right into a thick steel door that led to a curving staircase.
I slowed my footsteps as the Hunter ducked into the dungeon, afraid the sound of my feet on the steps would give my presence away. I waited, breath held tight in my throat as he descended further, and then I followed shortly behind.
Finally, we reached the bottom. A long row of cells stretched out before us, disappearing into nothing but a darkness thicker than night. The Hunter grabbed a torch from the wall, along with a set of keys, and then he strode to a cell five down from where we stood.
I watched and waited, taking stock of every move he made.
There was a flash of golden hair in the darkness of the cell, and the flickering fire highlighted Rourke’s perfect chiseled cheekbones.
“Do you know why all these other cells are so empty?” the Hunter asked, his voice as cold as steel. “It’s because the Queen has no need of prisoners. She does not understand why it is ever to her advantage to spare those who have gone against her.”
“No, of course she wouldn’t. Your Queen doesn’t understand anything other than what matters most for her own gain. She cares for no one, including you.”