It surprised Brea that the delegation from Iskalt was still there when the Eldur people left right after the festival. They’d been meeting behind closed doors with her aunt, but Brea knew so little about the fae world relations she couldn’t begin to guess why.
Triplet Two bounced on her toes as she twisted a long lock of blond hair around her finger. “There’s a rumor around the palace that you’re to marry Lord Griffin.”
“He’s perfect,” the third girl sighed.
Sure, perfect if one wanted a lying, manipulative, power seeker. But she couldn’t tell them he only wanted her as a means to get the crown. “We haven’t announced the engagement yet.”
“Don’t wait too long.” Brea lost track of which triplet said what. “There are plenty of noblewomen who’d gladly take your place.”
Brea would happily let them. If she had her way, she’d never have to see Griff again.
Unable to take more of this inane chatter, Brea got out of bed and rummaged through her armoire. “I must go see my fiancé.”
“Fiancé,” one of the girls giggled. “That’s a funny word.”
“Oh, um, I mean betrothed.”
“You won’t find him at the palace.” One of the girls pursed her lips. “I heard from one of the guards who heard from a servant of Lord Griffin’s that he left early this morning on a mission for the crown. He won’t be back for a week at least.”
“He… left?” She agreed to be his wife, and he left without a word the next morning?
“Yes, the guard said it was a matter of utmost importance, but a secret mission nonetheless.”
She couldn’t imagine what would take Griff away from the palace. He’d told her since they arrived that one day he’d have to return to his cottage because palace life wasn’t for him. But that had only been another lie.
“No matter.” She abandoned the dress she’d planned to wear to speak with Griff in favor of the outfit Neeve brought for her the day before. Turning back to the triplets, she raised a brow. “I’m going to change.”
They didn’t budge.
“Erm… please go. If I need you later on, I’ll call. I mean, I’ll send someone to fetch you.”
“Yes, your Highness.” They each curtsied before skittering from the room.
Brea stared after them, their “your Highnesses” ringing in her ears. She wasn’t meant for such a title, and if she had a say, she would never hear them utter it again.
It was time to stop lamenting her situation and act on it.
Changing into the comfortable clothes quickly, she hurried from the room and took the winding path through the palace, across an open-air bridge, and down a spiral staircase into the palace kitchens.
A cook looked up when she entered, a scowl on her plump face. “This isn’t the place for you, my Lady.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just looking for someone.”
“Well, look elsewhere. We’re quite busy this morning.” She went back to her task.
Others paid her no mind as she skirted the outer edge of the grand network of rooms where cooks and bakers plied their trade. Servants rushed through with trays laden with fruits, pastries, and pots of tea, no doubt attending to the many nobles currently residing at the palace.
“The queen isn’t going to like that.” Neeve’s strong voice cut through the bustle as she chastised one of the cooks in front of a boiling pot of sauce. “She’ll want more Gelsi berries in the sauce.”
Gelsi berries? The same fruit that dampens magic?
Neeve’s gaze found Brea and her eyes widened. She wiped her hands on the white apron tied to her waist and rushed toward Brea. “My Lady, you should not be down here.”
“I needed to talk to you, and it couldn’t wait.”
Neeve looked back over her shoulder at the cooks before gesturing for Brea to follow her around the corner into a storage room. She shut the door, sending them into semi-darkness.
“Are they putting Gelsi berries in the food?” It was the first question to escape her lips.
Neeve nodded, glancing at the door. “Queen Regan dampens the powers of all those staying within her walls. It is how she keeps such tight control—especially when foreign delegations are present.”
Was that why Brea had only had a few outbursts here in the palace? Back in the human realm, she’d constantly felt on the brink of losing control.
“But then…”
Neeve must have sensed what she meant to ask, because she answered. “Your magic must be quite powerful with the few times you’ve been able to use it.”
Brea shook her head to clear it. This wasn’t why she’d come. “Tell me the truth. The warning in the caramel sauce was you.”
Neeve nodded.
“Lochlan said I could trust you, but I don’t know if I can believe what he says. Everyone is lying to me.”
Neeve met her gaze. “Lochlan O’Shea does not lie. He’s a lot of things, but when he speaks, you can believe him.”
“And his brother?”
“That’s more complicated.”
“I’m supposed to marry him.”
“You can’t,” Neeve whispered before collecting herself. “There’s so much you don’t know, but I can’t be the one to tell you when I only know bits.”
“I can’t stay here, can I?” Not when they’d lied to her and tried to trap her. Her aunt seemed kind and caring, but now Brea realized she didn’t know her at all.
Neeve shook her head. “It’s not safe for you.”
“I have nowhere else to go.” She wanted to go back to Myles, but a jail cell waited for her in the human world.
“You do.” Neeve gripped her arms. “There is one place in this world you’ll be safe.” She implored Brea to believe her with her eyes. “You need to get to Eldur.”
Brea backed away from her. Eldur. The fire kingdom with an evil queen and most-probably dragons. “I can’t go to Eldur.”
“You must. Do not believe what you have been told. The beauty of Fargelsi is a trick meant to make the beholder trust in their safety. There is no safety to be had here for anyone. We are all trapped, but you have a chance to be free. You must take it. For all of us.”
“What do you mean you’re trapped? Can’t you come with me?”
She shook her head, her eyes shining. “We don’t have time to explain. There is a pathway through the marshes of the Southern Vatlands. I can take you only part of the way before I must return to the palace. The marshes lead across the border into Eldur where a contingent of the Fire Queen’s soldiers stand guard.”
“Why are they in the Vatlands? I thought those were neutral zones.”
“They’re there for the rare occasion I can get people out of Gelsi. Only those without full Fargelsi blood can cross the borders and the Eldurians protect them. You must navigate the marshes until you reach their camp. With them, you will be safe.”
“When do we leave?”
Neeve offered her a sad smile. “Tonight. You will leave the farewell dinner for Iskalt early, claiming you are ill. I’ll attend to you. Lord Griffin is away from the palace at present, so this gives us an opportunity. I’ll put together some food for you and procure a horse to get you to the Vatlands. You cannot pack anything else.”