“You’re not sorry,” he growled. “But you will be.” He shoved me towards the bloody mess left by whatever had attacked the dead Fae as their body was carried away by the rebels. “Clean that up without a single drop of water magic.”
“But-” I gasped, and he pushed me to my knees in front of the carnage.
“I can do a whole lot worse,” Gabriel warned and I sighed in resignation, starting to clean up the mess. But as he walked off with the rest of our group and I was left trying to deal with the blood and gore strewn across the ground, I still couldn’t help but feel that this was one of the best days of my life. And I muttered to myself, “Worth it.”
I paced my room, pondering the meaning of all things as I tapped the shadow spyglass in my palm, enjoying the satisfying thwack the eyeball made within it every time I shook it hard enough.
The thing was a tricksome beast which had already tried to crawl into my face thrice when I worked to contain it within this night iron – a metal specifically designed to hurt nymphs, targeting the shadows and nullifying them - but now that I had it properly contained, I had nothing to fear.
And yet that hadn’t brought us any closer to our goal and I had taken this one challenge upon myself because I knew in the bottom of my beetroots that we would never win this war without succeeding in this endeavour.
We needed to get our sticky fingers on a map of espial to be able to use this dastardly eye to track down the rifts. But the darn things were rarer than a Dragon’s uterus these days and there were only five known to be in existence, all of which were owned and heavily guarded by the FIB.
Just thinking of those dastardly Daniels got my crockpot boiling at the knowledge that they were still following that false filibuster of a king and doing his bidding no matter how nefarious his intentions were. They really made my gobble wobble and I was determined to snaffu one of those maps of espial right out of their hands at the soonest opportunity.
The problem was, dear, sweet, flappy Gabriel had only managed to see one of the maps which was held by the highest division of the FIB and every plan we had come up with to claim it had ended with him foreseeing our failure. And death. Much death. Honestly the little nutmuffin had looked quite aghast at that vision and I’d firmly suggested he go for a lie down to get over it much to his refusal. But he really had looked like a wet Sally and I’d needed him gone so I’d wafted him on his way all the same.
It really was one big hairy Dragon nut to crack, and I was just tooting my horn over the time we were still wasting while we tried to come up with a plan that wouldn’t fail.
A knock at the door sounded and I sighed, moving to open it and tossing the spyglass down on my comforter, the eyeball bouncing around in it like a moist ping-pong ball in a tumble dryer.
“Hey there, sugartoot,” Papa said kindly, knocking his knuckles against my chin. “Are you ready?”
“Oh, heavens have mercy,” I gasped but I followed him out into the hallway all the same. Because I may not have been able to get my deft hands upon a map of espial to help my queens locate the shadow rifts and bring down that conniving crumb, Lavinia, but I could make amends with my intended. Though I could admit to myself that I was loath to do so.
Papa gave me a look from the corner of his eye as we walked, his assessing gaze making me all cumbersome and I tripped over my own feet, only saving myself a fall onto my petunia as he caught hold of my elbow and righted me.
“You know, if this betrothal no longer suits you-” he began, but I cut him off with a gasp.
“Sweet sourcrout whatever gave you that idea?” I gasped.
“Well, I’m not blind, honeybutton, I see the looks you share with the Rigel chap and I know he has a dastardly opinion about the throne, but perhaps that’s not such a bother. It is clear our ladies will rise regardless and once he has been cowed down by the sweet and stern hand of fate, he may become a suitable match for you.”
“But what of Justin?” I cried. "Poor, sweet, foolish Justin who was so wrongfully accused? What kind of lady am I if I do not return to him now after all he has suffered?”
“Popkins…”
“No. I cannot waver on this,” I replied firmly, though my bottom lip did quiver some and as we turned into the tunnel where Justin’s cell was housed, he let the subject drop like a leaf into a well.
It wasn’t just my own lady whims which held me to this engagement, it was my dear momsy too. Upon her deathbed, when the cruel and long-lasting Faeitis had eaten into her bones and stolen her away from us upon the wings of the star-guided nightjar, she had asked me to always stick to my word. For there was nothing worse in my sweet Mama’s eyes than a tongue which spoke in reverie of one snowbell, only to pick another. She was the epitome of a loyal, faithful woman, my guiding star in all the years since she had passed beyond the Veil into the arms of our shining fate-weavers. And if I were to go back on my word to Justin, what would she think of me?