Page 14 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
Melizan glanced at Eris, who had just joined them, and she nodded, some secret message passing between them.
“What’s going on—”
“They’ve been away on important kingdom business,” Eris said. “We’ll explain as we walk.”
CHAPTER 12
Send my daughter.
In the face of horror, Bristol clung to those words.My daughter. Those two words reduced Bristol to a small child lost in a marketplace, hoping to be gathered up in her mother’s arms.My mother remembers. Or did she? Bristol had no right to be hopeful, not after what she had done to Glennis.
She’s my mother. She won’t hurt me.
There were things people said to those they loved, little lies to ease their worries, lies so they could move forward, unafraid. Like the ones she told Harper and Cat.I will bring Father home soon. Soon was long past. Maybe that was why Cat had conspired in the lie about what Bristol really was, to make it easier. She had known that Bristol was at least part fae, but she never said a word. To keep the peace. Ignore the elephant in the room. Look away, because whatever it was, it was too big for them.Look away—the message ingrained in them from childhood.
Bristol felt the warmth of Tyghan’s lips at her temple, heard his quiet plea,come back to me. And she had promised that she would, but promises were made of smoke, maybes, and luck. It was easy to make them. Far harder to keep them.
In truth, Bristol wasn’t certain what would happen to her. Leanna Keats was her mother, but this Maire, she was a woman Bristol didn’t know.
The horses stamped on the trail, eager to keep moving.
“We can go farther,” Rose said, her eyes glistening with tears. “No one will know if we’ve crossed the border.”
Bristol shook her head. “She’ll know. Stick to the plan, Rose.”
“I could shape-shift. Follow you from above.” Rose’s voice wobbled. “You can’t trust her, Bristol. She’s a monster.”
The word stung, like Rose had struck her.Monster. She saw it shake the others too. Julia winced. Avery looked down at her saddle. Fear shone in all their faces. Fear for her.
Bristol didn’t argue. How could she? Maire had shot Cully and then delivered Glennis’s severed head to the palace gates. But Maire was not her mother.
“Her name is Leanna Keats,” she said to Rose. “She likes orange soda pop, powdered doughnuts, and lambswool is her favorite yarn for weaving.” It sounded like a rebuke. She didn’t mean for it to be. She just wanted them to know that her mother hadn’t always been who she was now. Or maybe Bristol just needed to remember that herself. “Breath by breath, everyone changes, and not always by choice. None of us know who we might be a year from now.”
Rose didn’t reply, but Julia nodded, and her gaze locked tight onto Bristol’s. “You’re going to be all right,” she said. Julia knew about little lies too. They had to move forward.
“But don’t waste time,” Sashka added. “Get out quickly. Let her say her piece, then tell her you have to go.”
Avery hedged closer. “If she doesn’t let you—”
“I know what to do.” Bristol and August were fortified with the strongest wards that could render them both invisible and at least give them a good head start before Maire and her wizards could expose her and take chase. And August was fast, faster than any horse in the kingdom, maybe in all of Elphame.
Hollis sidled close to Rose, as if to block her from following. “Be safe, my friend,” she said to Bristol. “We’ll be here for you.”
And Bristol knew they would be, even to their own peril, and that only made the weight in her chest heavier.
CHAPTER 13
Tyghan pressed one hand against the vault door, leaning in, thinking, the dark of the narrow stone hallway swallowing him up. His thoughts skipped unevenly between then and now. He contemplated what he would say, what he would do. But at this point, what was left to say? He felt cold inside. Dead. Vengeful.
He had sent everyone else away. They understood. This was more than a king addressing a prisoner. He fingered the hilt of the demon blade sheathed at his side. He hadn’t removed it from its locked cabinet since the first day it was placed there after his stabbing, but after Eris told him the news, it was the first thing he retrieved. The second thing was a bottle of whiskey. He gripped its smooth neck in his other hand.
It was only a little stab. His chest seized with something wild and lost as he remembered Kierus’s words. His jaw clenched, trying to contain the storm swirling inside him, and then he turned and opened the door. Sconces on either side of the entrance flickered dimly, leaving much of the room in shadow. A single votive burned on a small table in the room, illuminating the prisoner sitting just behind it. He was shackled to his chair, and a thick collar was secure around his neck to prevent any magic from within or without.
His eyes cut into Tyghan, defiant, challenging, in spite of his circumstances, as if he were still the acclaimed hero of Danu.
Tyghan walked closer, pulling two small shot glasses from his vest and setting them down on the table.
“A last drink for the condemned?” Kierus asked.
