Page 9 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

Throughout my entire life, I’d known in the back of my mind that there was something different about me. Knowing that my mother warned me never to go digging for answers, or worse, to try to use the powers. I’d firmly believed—or perhaps convinced myself—that I was human, and there was nothing more to it.

Now, however, I wasn’t entirely sure.

Even if I hadn’t managed to conjure fire or shadow walk in the past week, I could no longer pretend it was impossible. I could no longer ignore Bael’s comments and explanations of Fae culture, or insist he was a fool to suspect that I might be more than human. Still, that didn’t bring me any closer to knowing the truth of who I was.

Each time someone mentioned my abilities or observed me with inquisitive eyes, my chest tightened and my palms began to sweat. Even Bael pushing me to hone my magic only fueled the anxiety threatening to choke me.

Still, as much as I wanted to deny it, using magic during the fight felt exhilarating. A part of me craved the power, while another part was terrified by it.

Not wishing to think any deeper on the issue, I turned my attention back to Bael. “At least I don’t ignore everyone as you do,” I mumbled. “Are you not concerned that the few soldiers who have remained loyal will be offended and leave?”

He actually laughed at that. “I pray you never lose your naiveté, because then I’d know we truly ruined you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that if we do not want our guards to fear you, my presence will do you no favors.”

I considered that as we made our way through the tunnels and emerged into the thieves’ den. I supposed, Bael was right, especially now that he’d given up his courtly attire and false smiles. He’d had an entire lifetime of being feared by all those around him—except perhaps his immediate family—and knew that it could be as much a hindrance to leadership as it was a requirement for royalty.

Of course, I didn’t desire to rule anyone.

And thanks to Ambrose Dullahan, I no longer did. In name, or otherwise.

3

LONNIE

THE CUTTHROAT DISTRICT, INBETWIXT

The thieves’ den was a large, rectangular room with a bar on one side and a training ring on the other. The ceiling was adorned with shiny copper panels, while the walls were constructed of stone and illuminated by small wisp lamps every few feet. On the left side of the bar, a heap of crates and barrels leaned against the wall. On the right, a handful of small tables and chairs were arranged. When Scion and I had visited, the tables had rarely been occupied, but in the last week they were often used for strategy sessions. That seemed to hold true today.

Every seat around the tables was occupied, and there were more people leaning against the walls or sitting on the floor. Many faces turned toward me, and unlike the last time I’d been here, there were few smiles in the crowd. Most expressions were anxious, some outright fearful. I sighed. Being the object of so many stares, and terrified ones at that, was entirely too exhausting.

I pushed through the crowd, and finally spotted a genuinely friendly face. Making my way over, I leaned against the edge of the table where Iola sat. “Morning.”

Iola looked slightly better than during the battle, having had a few meals and a bath. But she was still recovering from being accidentally poisoned over a month ago. Her tea-stained hair was braided and her borrowed clothing was clean, but she remained pale, sickly, and bedraggled. Every time I saw her the guilt that had taken root within me over these last several days seemed to grow, like it was a living thing within me.

“Oh, hi,” Iola said, flustered. Her cheeks turned slightly pink. “Hello.”

I raised a bemused eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

“Of course. I’m glad you finally came—down here that is.” Her cheeks flamed scarlet. “Oh, gods. Here, do you want my chair?”

I stared at her, nonplussed. “No, you sit. What is wrong with you this morning?”

Behind me, Bael laughed, and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Scion doesn’t knock, little monster. I think you were right—your friend was sent to get us, and probably gave up, so they sent…reinforcements.”

Now, my face was growing hot as well, and I stared down at my shoes as I mumbled. “Well, your sister should stop ordering Iola around. It wasn’t her job to fetch us in the first place. This whole thing was entirely avoidable.”

“I don’t disagree.”

“Where is Aine, anyway?” I asked, glancing around.

Before Bael could respond, he was cut off by a jovial shout across the room. “Good of ya to finally join us, lass!”

A boisterous voice echoed through the room and I looked up. Through the crowd, I could make out Cross’s bright red hair, and Scion’s dark head beside him, bent low over something spread out over the bar. To my mingled relief and disappointment, the prince didn’t look up at me, but Cross met my gaze over the heads of the many thieves.

The leader of the guild was clad in a suit of molded armor, resembling Scion’s obsidian gear but with a lighter weight and a leather-like texture. It was a stark contrast from his usual casual attire, giving off the impression that he expected to be ambushed at any moment.

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