King of Always: Chapter 13

to worthless because three days later, my rock-solid thighs still haven’t propelled me up to the top of the Black Tower to visit the Prince of Fire.

Elas swears that Raff is most definitely alive, which means the fire prince probably thinks I’ve abandoned him. But in reality, the Merits have kept me far too busy to visit or to even attempt to explore the city for possible escape routes. And even though I wouldn’t have a clue how to break him out of an Unseelie cell, if the opportunity to flee ever presents itself, I want to know which way to run.

The thought of being stuck here forever almost makes me want to give up. But I’m not a quitter. That means I have to come up with a plan—even a bad one, if it will help me stay sane.

Every day from just after dawn, I work with Elas until sunset, then drag myself back to the White Tower to eat dinner alone before falling into bed to sleep like a log. I use the term loosely because my presence at the Meritorium is nothing but smoke and mirrors. But who knew pretending to be productive could be so exhausting?

At least Elas isn’t evil. Far from it, in fact. When I talk about home and how much I miss Mom, he always cheers me up, and he constantly saves my bacon by making me appear useful in front of his co-workers. Elas may look scary, but he’s living proof that not all Merits are vile and wicked—this one might even be an ally.

That’s where I’m heading now—to the Meritorium to pretend to work all day.

With a brilliant dawn dusting my skin pink and orange and thoughts of Raff spinning in my mind, I trek through the city with my eyes open wide, taking in the strange sights.

Hybrid animal-fae creatures move with purpose around an industrial fairyland made of glass beams and dark metals, the buildings encrusted with smoky and transparent-colored crystals. Shimmering insects as big as dinner plates flit through the sky, which is turning a pretty bronze-tinged azure.

From the center of the Meritorium’s gardens city streets spread out, mimicking the rays of the sun, those on the outskirts lined with bustling stores. From what I can tell through the glass shop fronts, they mostly sell mechanical critters similar to Temnen’s bird, tech gear, and all manner of magical charms and services.

If I wasn’t always running so late for work, I could wander inside, inspect the wares, and chat innocently while I fish for information that might one day help Raff break out of the tower, shift into the firebird, and fly home—hopefully with me on his back.

As I pass the retail sector, merchants and customers bow and wave, and I smile back while my pendant flashes and accumulates new Merit points, validating my popularity with the courtiers. I try not to feel too pleased that they seem to like me because their good opinion definitely won’t last long.

Soon they’ll realize the miraculous life-changing device they’re waiting for their new change-bringer to invent isn’t coming, then I’ll be far from the flavor of the month. I’ll be chopped liver. Or, worse, toast.

Speaking of food, I haven’t baked anything since the morning I left the Emerald Castle, and I’m suffering a terrible withdrawal from gooey-chocolate croissants. If I can’t plunge my hands into a bowlful of sugar and flour soon, I’ll lose my freaking mind.

Baking is the only thing that brings me peace. It’s my one addiction. My solace when life turns to crap. With the Seelie heir rotting in a tower cell because of me, the two of us stuck here at the questionable mercy of the Merits, I’d say I’m in dire need of a major cooking session. I need to get on to that pronto.

When I enter the Meritorium’s glass atrium, I find Elas alone and slumped over a long central table, shadows from the metal rafters in the roof crisscrossing the messy spread of plans he’s currently frowning down at.

“That looks hard to read,” I say, squinting in the bright light as I take a seat at a high metal stool beside him.

He’s working on a new transportation system for the city, similar to an elevated railway, but sleeker and run on a combination of steam power and magic. “Why don’t you move to one of the smaller workspaces with a roof? Then you’ll be able to see better.” I shuck my red cloak and gesture around at all the too-painful-to-look-at shiny white or glass-paned surfaces.

His mouth twitches, and he gives me a side eye.

“This building is huge,” I continue. “You’re spoiled for choice. Might as well get comfortable.”

“Good morning, Isla,” he finally says, smiling now.

I grin back. “Morning.”

From what I’ve witnessed so far, for a Merit, Elas is warm and polite. When I’m with him, I feel safe and comfortable. Unlike Temnen. That guy is seriously creepy. But Elas already feels like a friend—trustworthy and supportive.

“Moving won’t be necessary. The brightness of the atrium helps me think.” His black nails tap the plans, tracing over the Merit castle. “The skyway’s route around the palace puzzles me still. Until I decide whether or not to bypass it, I cannot move forward with the project. But if I consult with the king to ascertain his preference, the surprise will be ruined. I am at an impasse.”

“Hey, why not do something crazy? Like…” Rubbing my chin, I drop my head back and gaze through the roof at the clear sky. “You could make El Fannon Castle a feature of the journey.”

I wasn’t surprised when I learned the vain king named the castle after himself. “You could put a station on the south side of the Great Hall, then passengers could hop off there and look through the wall of glass straight down into the throne room. I’m pretty sure El Fannon would adore being on display like a gorilla in a zoo.”

“I do not know what a zoo is, but your idea is most definitely a good one.”

“I still don’t get this project. Most Merits can shift into a creature or do that transfer thing and disappear and reappear somewhere else, and both methods beat walking if you ask me. The last thing a magical city needs is a transportation system.”

He bares his fangs in a smile. “The skyway will be extremely popular because it will extraordinary, stunning, and progressive. That is all our people care about—appearances. This will be the great change you’ll bring to Merit society, Isla!”

I snort. “Hardly. Merits have known about mortals’ trains and cars for ages. You’ve said as much yourself.”

“Yes, but this will be different because proposed the idea. Mortals paint pictures of possibilities. Merits mix magic and technology to bring about new realities. We could not have done this without you.”

That idea is so ridiculous, I laugh loudly. In a think-tank session yesterday, I described the subways and railways from home, and the Merits acted like I was a genius. In love with the idea, Elas went into an ecstatic frenzy and stayed up all night sketching plans.

“Elas, this is nuts. You know I’m no change-bringer. It’s okay to admit it when we’re alone.”

“Isla, you are wonderful company. I enjoy your stories about your work at Max’s Vinyl City and other reports of Earth life very much.”

He can’t lie, so what he say speaks volumes. He knows I’m a fraud and, for some reason, he’s helping me regardless.

“But if the king finds out I’m just a baker or, worse, Temnen does…” At the thought of the sinister green-haired prince, my skin crawls. “And, by the way, when are you going to tell me where the queen is instead of changing the subject every time I ask?”

He sighs. “She is dead.”

“How did she die?”

“It is best we leave it at that. And, please, do not worry about the king. He will be more than happy with your skyway contribution. You must continue to tell me of your home—that is the only work you need to do here—and it will spark further ideas that my innovators can develop. Simply appear busy whenever the king or princes are present, and they will be satisfied. El Fannon loves to see you—his precious change-bringer—hard at work in the Meritorium. And your duty is simply to play a role—it is a performance.”

“But why are Merits obsessed with human stuff? Your magic is way cooler than our technology. Take your pendants for example, how do they even work?”

The glass doors swoosh open, and Lidwinia glides through them into the atrium. “Our pendants work the same way all our devices do,” she says, her spiky, green hair bouncing with each step she takes. “Magic and metal and crystal energy.”

Which hardly explains a thing.

She looks amazing in another silver scale-covered dress, this one cut to her thighs, displaying more of the lacy, purple patterns that cover her skin. With her beside me, I feel plain in my beautiful royal-blue tunic, richly embroidered with silver suns and dazzling rays of gold.

As Elas drinks in the sight of Lidwinia, the tips of his wings shudder hard and flare out. Black feathers made of little metallic plates chink across the marble floor, and the princess ducks down to collect them. Instead of handing them back to the technomancer, she pockets them in her dress, grinning at his blush.

Face still flushing red, he stands and performs a clumsy bow. “Greetings, Princess Lidwinia. Your presence in my laboratory as always, humbles me greatly.”

“Oh, be quiet, Elas.” Her thin tongue flickers out. “Isla isn’t blind. It’s obvious I’m a frequent visitor.”

Yeah, it sure is. Going by the sizzle in the air, these two have a major thing for each other, which makes me wonder if the king knows or cares what his daughter gets up to in her spare time.

“Nice to see you again,” I say as she sits opposite and pulls the skyway plans around to inspect them.

“Oh, these look wonderful, Isla.”

“I didn’t design it! It’s Elas you should be complimenting. As I was in the middle of telling him when you arrived, I don’t understand why you want boring Earth machinery in your land. For the love of pizza, you have magic!”

“Except for my brother, Riven, we Merits have lost touch with our nature magic heritage. The Blood Sun sacrifice allows us to maintain our magic, but we need machines to mix the energy with. They are security against our failing powers. For now, we combine the two with great success.”

I take a deep breath, not sure if I want to hear the answer to my next question. “What’s the Blood Sun sacrifice exactly? It sounds…ominous.”

Lidwinia’s gaze locks with Elas’s, a brief silent conversation passing between them, then she nods.

Elas turns to me. “Unfortunately, it is exactly what you fear it is. At dark of the moon, a courtier is chosen to be sacrificed by Draírdon. It is an honor to be selected, their life force and blood powering our magic until the next cycle.”

Good grief. My stomach curdles at the thought of the water feature in the throne room, a river of red blood flowing through the marble. Gross.

Lidwinia grips my forearm, her touch light. “Elas, Riven, and I are likely the only three fae in the kingdom who wish to see the end of this ritual, this way of retaining our dark magic. Our hope for the future lies in Riven’s ascension to the throne. If Temnen doesn’t kill Riven first, when he is king, our land will not be so brutal a place to reside in.”

Groaning, I drop my head into my palms. I feel sick. “How do the sacrifices get chosen?”

“The mage, Draírdon, always chooses…” Elas’s dark eyes shift away from mine, focusing on his hands. “In consultation with Temnen.”

“That’s terrible. This place sucks. Now I really want to go home.”

“You are unhappy here,” Elas says, watching me closely. “How can we help you be more at ease?”

Over the last few days, he and Lidwinia have become my friends, but they’re Merits, and I don’t trust them completely. I can tell them the full truth—that I hate being here, that I miss home, my mom, and Lara and Ever, all of which they can do nothing about, and I’ll sound like a major whiner. Or I can talk about the one thing they can actually help me with. Baking.

“I was training to be a pastry chef back home. It’s my obsession. My one great love is baking crispy, fluffy sugary sweets. I miss it so badly; I even dream about cooking.”

He looks delighted. “This problem is easy to solve. Tell me what you require to make these sweets you long for. I will have ingredients delivered to you chambers. You must do this thing you love, Isla. I do not know how long you will be a guest in our land, and you must find some measure of happiness.”

“Because you think I might be here forever, right?”

His sad smile says it all, and my heart sinks to my stomach.

Lidwinia’s orange eyes brighten. “Have you seen the fire prince yet?”

“No. I’ve been hanging out here at the Meritorium every day. Elas swears Raff’s still alive, but I won’t believe it until I see him with my own eyes.”

“You must go right now,” she says.

Her sly smile tells me she knows about the voice whispering inside my head, the one I refuse to listen to because all it does is remind me of the way Raff’s eyes smoldered the day we played with fire together. The feel of his rough palm on my cheek, his warm breath caressing my lips. The way my limbs grew weak, not from the fire, but from the heat of the fae prince’s body.

“Go to him,” she insists.

“Now? I’ve got an awful lot of pretend work to get through today.”

She laughs. “I will stay with Elas. If my father or brother come here, I will take care of them. I am highly skilled at reshaping the truth. Listen and learn.”

A frown creases her brow, her expression one of fake concern. “You look pale to me, Isla. You need rest. You must return to your chambers, stay there for the day and recover.” She smiles. “There, you see how easily it is done? Now I can repeat those words and speak the complete truth when I tell the king I advised you to rest, and you can visit your Seelie prince free from worries.”

He’s not prince, but even so, I desperately need to see him. “Fantastic. I’ll leave now. Just keep Temnen away from the tower if you can. I don’t want him near Raff.”

She takes a green stone from her pocket. “Give this to the guard. Tell him my orders are to leave you to speak with Rafael in private. The stone is my word. He will do as I ask.”

“Thank you,” I say.

As I get up, Lidwinia does the same and walks around the table to stand in front of me. She pulls me close for a quick hug.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Or if Raff and I can devise a plan to bust him out of the tower, maybe I won’t.

“Isla?” Lidwinia says. “A word of advice. You should seek out my oldest brother as soon as possible. Like me, Riven does not wish to be at war with the Elemental court. I feel strongly that you and he will be of great help to each other.” She settles on the stool next to Elas. “And, please, take a fire torch with you to the Black Tower. The dark is deep there, even in the daylight.”

I make a quick trip to the meal room, borrow a satchel, and stuff it with bread, fruit, and cheese. Who knows when they last fed Raff? Then I duck into my chambers and collect a torch before traipsing toward Raff’s prison.

As I tread carefully over the spiked bridge, the waves smash the rocks below in time with the wild beating of my heart.

It takes forever to scale the steps to the top of the dark tower. Torch light flickering, I climb and I climb and still the narrow staircase spirals upward.

There are no rooms or hallways leading off from any of the small landings I pass through. No signs of life. Like a remote and lonely lighthouse, this dark arrow points at the stars, but instead of saving ships from ruin, the tower’s only purpose is to serve as a prison for wayward princes. If only it were Temnen in there instead of Raff.

Finally, I arrive at a slightly larger landing with torches blazing at four points on the walls. In one direction, a small window frames the blue sky. Opposite stands an arched-wooden door, an armored fae asleep on his feet, guarding the front of it. As I turn, the scrape of my boots across the stone floor wakes him.

“Change-Bringer,” he greets me in a voice that matches his foreboding appearance. He’s enormous with leathery skin and slightly mangled tusks curling from his jaw. “My name is Newt. You wish to see the prince of the Lesser Court?”

As I approach him, I straighten my spine and square my shoulders. Never show fear if you can help it. “Good morning, Newt. Yes, please. I would very much like to see Prince Rafael.” I pass him the torch and fish Lidwinia’s stone from my satchel. “The princess asked me to give you this and for my visit to be a private one.”

Scowling, he takes the stone. When it touches his palm, it glows an iridescent green. He squints at it as though he’s reading something, then sighs heavily, passing the stone back. “When you enter the cell, light the torch to the left with your own. Stay as long as you like, but remember, even in his current condition, the fire prince is dangerous. I will wait for you on the bridge.”

He takes two steps, then turns back. “You must bar the door when you leave. If you don’t, I will report your disobedience to Prince Temnen.”

I nod, and he disappears down the dark stairwell.

… Those words make me tremble as I take a few steadying breaths. What will I see on the other side of this door? Preparing for the worst, I adjust my bag of supplies on my shoulder, and step inside the cell.

The darkness seems to suck up the light from my torch, and I can’t see a thing. But over the roar of my pulse in my ears, I can hear Raff.

Short, ragged breaths saw in and out. Boots scrape over dirt as if he’s scrambling away from me.

I raise my torch and light another next to the door. “Raff?”

“Isla,” grates a voice from the shadows. “You came. The poison told me you would.”