I am wearing my necklace of rowan berries, but they are no protection against the magic of the geas. This is no regular glamour, no simple sorcery.
The weight of the geas slams down on me, and I know that if I tried to speak, my mouth wouldn’t be able to form those forbidden words. I hate it. It’s an awful, out-of-control feeling. It makes me scramble around in my head, trying to imagine my way around his commandment, but I cannot.
I think of my first ride to Faerie and the sound of Taryn and Vivi wailing. I think of Madoc’s grim expression, jaw locked, doubtlessly unused to children, no less human ones. His ears must have been ringing. He must have wanted us to shut up. It’s hard to think anything good about Madoc in that moment, with our parents’ heartsblood on his hands. But I will say this for him—he never enchanted away our grief or took our voices. He never did any of the things that might have made the trip easier for him.
I try to convince myself that Prince Dain is only doing the smart thing, the necessary thing, in binding me. But it makes my skin crawl.
For a moment, I am unsure of my decision to serve him.
“Oh,” Dain says as I am about to leave. “One more thing. Do you know what mithridatism is?”
I shake my head, not sure I am interested in anything he has to say right now.
“Look into it.” He smiles. “That’s not a command, only a suggestion.”
I follow the Roach through the palace, keeping back from him a few steps so it doesn’t seem like we’re together. We pass a general Madoc knows, and I make sure to keep my head bowed. I don’t think he would look closely enough to recognize me, but I cannot be sure.
“Where are we going?” I whisper after several minutes of walking through the halls.
“Just a little farther,” he says gruffly, opening a cupboard and climbing inside. His eyes reflect orange, like a bear’s. “Well, come on, get in and close the door.”
“I can’t see in the dark,” I remind him, because that is one of the many things the Folk never remember about us.
He grunts.
I get in, folding myself up tightly so that no part of me touches him, and then I close the cabinet door behind me. I hear the slide of wood and feel the rush of cold, damp air. The scent of wet stone fills the space.
His hand on my arm is careful, but I can feel his claws. I let him pull me forward, allow him to press my head so I know when to duck. When I straighten out, I am on a narrow platform above what appears to be the palace’s wine cellars.
My eyes are still adjusting, but from what I can see, there is a network of passageways worming below the palace. I wonder how many people know about them. I smile at the thought of having a secret about this place. Me, of all people.
I wonder if Madoc knows.
I bet Cardan doesn’t.
I grin, wider than before.
“Enough gawping?” the Roach asks. “I can wait.”
“Are you ready to tell me anything?” I ask him. “Like, where we’re going or what’s going to happen when we get there?”
“Figure it out,” he says, the growl in his voice. “Go on.”
“You said we were going to meet the others,” I tell him, starting with what I know, trying to keep up and avoid stumbling on the uneven ground. “And Prince Dain made me promise not to reveal any hidden locations, so obviously we’re going to your lair. But that doesn’t tell me what we’re going to do when we get there.”
“Maybe we’re going to show you secret handshakes,” the Roach says. He’s doing something I can’t quite see, but a moment later, I hear a click—as though a lock was tripped or a trap disarmed. A gentle shove against the small of my back and I am heading down a new, even more dimly lit tunnel.