Page 34 of The Jester

But I couldn’t. Because I cannot do anything without Eldrion’s permission.

The one rebellion I have is the binding display at the start of my act. When I first performed it, I almost hoped he would punish me for it. I hoped it would cause him so much humiliation – to be faced with his family’s worst crimes – that he would beat me for days.

He did not beat me. Instead, he laughed.

He laughed, and then everyone else laughed, and – just like that – it became part of the act. Titillation for the noble women of the citadel who feel pretty and powerful when they wrap the bindings around my torso.

The fact I break free means nothing to them.

But it meant something to her. She saw it. And I see in her what I saw in the forest; the spark of someone who knows what it is to be different but who doesn’t know she has the power to make things better.

I might be trapped beneath Eldrion’s wing. But she has something I don’t; she has magic. And if she plays this the right way, she might just be able to help us all.

“Finn?” Briony steps out of the door to the servants’ dorm and presses her back against the wall. Silently, I move into the shadows beside her.

While she shares with ten other women, I at least have the privilege of my own chambers and I am desperate to return to them now.

As always, performing has left me exhausted. But being so close to Alana has left me with other feelings, too. Ones I need to be alone to deal with.

“How is she?” Briony bites her lower lip. She is one of the younger Shadowkind servants, just fifty-two years old but with already sallow skin and dark hair that no longer shines.

Her bindings were removed last year. Since then, they have yet to move. At least mine have remembered that over the years.

“She’ll be fine,” I tell her, adjusting my bag of supplies on my shoulder. “I must go now.”

“Wait.” She takes my elbow, blushes, then lets go of it. I have never fucked her, but she has always wanted me to and tonight is no different.

“I have to go, Briony.” I move to walk away, because I have absolutely no interest in lying with her tonight or any other night, but she shakes her head.

“Please, wait. The Leafborne in the dungeon. Some of them need help.”

Under any other circumstances, I’d refuse Briony’s request. Getting from my chambers to the dungeons is a risk I’d rarely take, let alone at this time of night – too close to sunrise for my liking. But my treacherous conscience asks me what Alana would say if she knew I’d refused to help her kin, and I find myself saying, “Very well.”

We leave the castle through the servants’ entrance and cross the courtyard to the trapdoor that leads to the dungeon. It creaks when we pull it open, but instead of hesitating I jump swiftly down inside and bring Briony with me.

“Are they not guarded?” I hiss as we approach the door that will lead to the cells.

“Yes, but it is Henrik on duty tonight. He will let us in.”

I press my lips together. Henrik and I have never been on good terms. Something about me unnerves him, and the way he looks at me makes me want to curl my fist and punch him in his broad, ugly nose.

I make a hrmph sound, but Briony doesn’t respond.

True to her word, however, Henrik opens the door when we tap on it and ushers us inside. At the back of the low-ceilinged stone dungeon is a large cell. Bars reach from the floor to the ceiling and stretch across the width of the room. Inside, I count twenty-one Leafborne fae. All in chains.

Some are sleeping, their heads lolling uncomfortably. Others are whispering in the darkness.

When I approach, they start to stir and nudge each other and stare at me with wide, frightened eyes. I hold out my palms to them. “I’m a friend,” I say gently. “Here to help. I heard some of you are injured?”

For a long moment, no one replies. But then a fae with blond curly hair and surprisingly skinny wings drags himself to his feet and says, “Are you able to get into the cell?”

I glance over my shoulder at Henrik, who swallows hard, then shakes his head. “I can’t. It’s one thing letting you down here. If they escaped...”

I turn back to the blond fae. “I’m afraid not. Tell me what ails you, and I’ll pass what remedies I have through the bars.”

“I am not hurt,” he replies. “But my friend Talia has glass in her foot, and Ben thinks he has broken his wrist.”

I start with Talia. She lifts her foot, and I squint into the dark to examine it. Somehow, I manage to instruct her to pull the glass free, then pass antiseptic and bandages through the bars. They are handed along the line of chained-up fae, and the woman next to her helps her wrap her foot.

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