Page 67 of The Princess of Nothing
“I can see through any fae magic,” Cedric stated. “Besides.” He grinned. “We don’t need any help getting there.”
I smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that. You can see through glamours!”
Cedric’s wings unfolded in a glistening gold, like a sunset against the pale skies. “We can see through any magic, but we can also choose to see an illusion too,” he explained. “I can fly us some of the way. I’ll need rest in between, but this kingdom is much smaller than even a province in Berovia.” He nodded at Aquarius. “Thank you again, friend, for everything. Safe travels.”
“Your Highness.” He dipped his head. It was strange to hear Cedric addressed like that.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Seeing you next to a future queen, it feels appropriate.” He grinned, as if they were in on some private joke. “We’re betting on you, Winter.”
Bella joined his side. “Good luck, Winter.”
Hugging my arms tighter around my torso, I inhaled snowflakes. “I will repay you all someday.”
Aquarius’s eyes glinted. “Oh, I’ll only be needing one thing.”
“What is that?”
He didn’t respond. Cedric looked from him to me, then wrapped his arms around my waist. The gold in his eyes contrasted the winter wasteland around us. He spiraled us into the air, leaving my question forgotten to the winds. He carried us up to colder winds in the misty sky, the ship appearing tiny. His bright wings flapped against strong gusts, swaying us back, then diagonally. Ice prickled every inch of my bare skin. I gazed down, and my lips parted. I gripped onto Cedric tighter, my feet dangling, the want for steady ground growing stronger with the rising winds.
I was nervous about seeing Blaise—and my feelings toward Cedric—especially with what the mer king had said about my heart being with Blaise, but he and I, we could never be together, so it didn’t really matter. Cedric was good for me, and he made me laugh. I couldn’t let what the mer king said change that.
***
An arch of ivy, purpleberries, and black vines welcomed us to the white-dusted stone path leading into Lepidus, the royal court in Niferum. The castle reached high, their obsidian towers a mark against the cloudy horizon. I looked up, gasping as the temperature dropped a couple of degrees. My stomach was in knots, my heart pounded, and my hands trembled. I was just happy to be back on solid ground.
I flexed my fingers against my staff on my belt, touching the wood from Ash Forest and bringing myself comfort. Three men, dressed in navy uniforms with purple embellishments, stepped out of the door. Each wore hardened stares and clenched jaws, brandishing their daggers.
“What is your business here?” one shouted.
“We are here to see the king,” I replied, my voice breaking at the end.
They didn’t break their stride.
“Take the faery into the castle,” one ordered, jerking his head in Cedric’s direction, and turned his attention to me. “Sorcerers are to be imprisoned immediately.”
“No.” Panic widened my eyes. “I’m Winter... Winter Mortis.” I fumbled. The memory of being taken by the guards in Berovia to the pits froze my next words. My feet rooted to the spot, though the voices in my head tempted me to run. I begged them to calm. I’d always been ruled by logic, and I knew it was a different situation. Nothing would happen to me in Lepidus—Blaise would never allow it—but my trauma begged something different. I felt nauseated. “Please...” I begged when they wrestled my staff from me. Their hands on my wrists brought back the pain I felt before. “NO!” I wailed, trying to free myself.
“Let her go!” Cedric bellowed as he was pulled toward the doors and into the castle. I pinched my eyelids shut. My breaths sped, my heart raced, and I felt as if I were going to die.
“I can’t breathe.” My knees buckled. My sanity was splitting at its sides. “Please,” I pleaded again. “BLAISE!” I screamed as I was pulled toward the entrance to the dungeons.
Rocking back and forth with my back pressed against the cold stone wall, I shuddered. I looked at the starless sky through the iron-barred small window to my left. Water dripped from somewhere in the distance, the sound accompanied by the occasional cry from another prisoner in a neighboring cell.
“I’m okay,” I told myself for the hundredth time, squeezing my fingernails into my palms until I left crescent-shaped marks. I found solace in the pain. “I’m safe.” I tried to convince my racing thoughts. “It’s not the same as Berovia.” My voice was shaky. “Blaise will come. You’ll see.” I probably sounded crazy, but I didn’t care. I needed to hear the words aloud.
Footsteps approached. Heavy boots crunched small stones in the echoey passageway. “You there.” A guard with thick eyebrows that blended into one long one stood at the bars of my cell. A key was forced into the lock, and the door swung open. “Come with me,” he grumbled, pushing his the silver helmet back. Holes had been made for the very tips of his ears to poke through. “Now.”
I jolted back, scrambling against the wall. The guard grunted and grabbed my wrist, then tugged me forward. My fingers trembled from the bitter draughts sweeping through the small, ancient passages.
My breath fogged the air when we walked outside. Tears ran down my cheeks as I tasted freedom. The uneasiness in my chest dissipated. The jittering was less noticeable. I wanted to think about anything else, a distraction from the pain I felt every time I closed my eyes or was alone with my mind.
Then I saw him. His presence sent shockwaves through me. His hands were in his pockets. He wore a black shirt with silver roses patterned on it. His dark eyebrows were pinched downward, his expression unmoving.
“Blaise.” His name felt familiar on my tongue.
I didn’t expect to feel so nervous. I was still so angry at him, and it had been months since we’d seen each other, then there was the letter.
