Page 144 of Caging Darling

I nod, and while I have a horrible feeling about this, Tink won’t be dissuaded.

And then there’s that dreadful hope welling up within me.

That maybe there is a way to save us both. A happiness that’s within my grasp.

Because Tink has given me an idea.

We conspire for a while,Tink pushing tiles across the floor to me, me having to ask plenty of questions and wait for confirmation to figure out if I’ve gotten it right.

But once we’ve decided on a plan, we stand to go.

“Thank you,” I say. She turns around to face me. “For all you’ve done. For Michael. For me. I know it’s for John, and I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you would do all of this for him. That he was so well loved in his last few months.”

My throat is closing up, and it hurts, thinking about how I wasn’t there for him. “I’m just so grateful that he got to leave this world knowing…”

Tink grabs my shoulder, squeezing, stopping me. The tiles that find their way into my hand are still warm from her touch. “FOR YOU.”

Tears well in my eyes.

It hits me that I never considered this as an option, because I never would have thought Tink would do something like this for me. Put her freedom on the line to save my life.

In my mind, there’s never any working together. I’d spend all day plotting with my enemies, but never my friends.

Because up until this moment, I haven’t really believed in them.

Charlie knows that about me. That’s why she’d written the letters. Not as a way to process her thoughts, but as evidence when I returned that I was loved. That I’d always been loved. Always wanted.

I take Tink’s hand on my shoulder and squeeze it. “Together,” I whisper.

CHAPTER 52

The Nomad is waiting for us when we arrive in the courtyard.

The air is cool, the wind lazy as it whips against my skin, threatening to chastise me, just like the guilt welling in my chest.

But no, the guilt I had stocked up for myself had been for the version of Wendy who wasn’t strong enough to fight the bargain. The version of Wendy who hadn’t realized that with the help of a friend, she might not need to fight at all.

I nudge the guilt to the side, tuck it away, and instead squeeze my friend’s shoulder.

She’s slumped before me, her hands tied behind her back as she stumbles forward. Her head wags, a drunkenness to her expression that makes my heart hurt. If we fail, will this be her reality? The Nomad claims he doesn’t want her for her faerie dust, but there’s something special about Tink he chose not to disclose to me. Will the Nomad drug her and keep her in a cage, easily accessible to harvest whatever power she has that he so desperately wants?

Peter is a monster, but he’d at least given her a pen instead of a cage.

My chest tightens, and the Nomad stares at both of us, a heady excitement in his eyes when he sees Tink. I wonder if when he looks at her, all he sees is his own freedom.

“I wouldn’t have expected her to come so easily,” he says, his voice drawling.

I shake my head, exaggerating my discomfort with this situation. It’s not difficult to feign, so much of it rooted in reality. “They’d been keeping her in a cell,” I say. “She was already drugged when I found her.”

The Nomad tenses. “Had you brought her to me earlier, she wouldn’t have been damaged.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” I mumble under my breath.

The Nomad’s ears perk, amusement in his expression.

He can’t seem to wait for me to hand her over, can’t wait for me to walk her across the courtyard. He comes pacing in our direction, his eyes full of greedy ecstasy.

Tink’s hand tightens around the knife behind her.

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