Page 22 of Royal Ransom

“Tradition?” I repeated.

He nodded. “This is the uniform of a male servant in the Winter Court of the Sidhe. It has been for close to fifty years now. I get updates about court politics from time to time.”

A squirming sense of guilt settled in my stomach. It wasn’t my fault. No matter what my head said, what happened to the people of Winter when I’d been human wasn’t my fault.

You could say the same about hitting someone with your car by accident. It doesn’t matter what anyone intended. Harm was done. You have to make it right.

But how did I do that? No matter what lens I looked through, I was ruining someone’s life. I couldn’t take the boys into Winter in good conscience, but allowing someone else to care for them seemed impossible. I couldn’t abandon my boys to be a queen. How did I reconcile Olwen with Taliyah? The answer was simple: I couldn’t. I’d have to make a choice. In essence, I was doing that right now. And it scared the hell out of me.

“I have a uniform for Maverick as well,” Basil said.

I heard a distinct giggle from the hallway and had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from echoing it. The look of horror on Maverick’s face was priceless. I had no doubt Astrid would find a way to get a picture before we left.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a template for a female uniform,” Basil continued, ignoring the muffled laughs from the hall. Maverick was glowering at the door. If he’d had a clear line of sight, I think he might have thrown a hex. “You’ll need to haveone altered when we arrive at our final destination.”

“Which is where?” Astrid asked, finally poking her head around the door frame. “You know I need a good idea of where I’m going before I make the jump.”

“You’re not accompanying us beyond Blood Rose,” Basil said in the same no-nonsense tone Maverick and I had taken with her. “And I won’t give any pertinent details until we are away from all these prying ears. Take a seat, and we’ll let Mr. Depraysie change and return.”

Basil offered Maverick a silver bundle of fabric, which he took with clear reluctance. I was pretty sure he would have handled nuclear waste with less disgust than what he aimed at the ridiculous uniform. Basil watched him retreat into the adjoining bathroom with an amused smile.

“Take a seat, you two,” he then said to Astrid and me. His eyes fluttered closed, as though he was dredging up a memory. “I’ll mark the route we’ll take on a map for you, Chief Morgan.”

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure where precisely he wanted me. As I moved to the first pillow in the row in front of him, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Not there,” he said, his voice serene while his eyes remained closed. “Beside me.”

I frowned but complied, settling onto the rug next to him. If my knees had belonged to my former, human body, they would have creaked in protest. In my new fae body, it wasn’t even uncomfortable. Basil reached a hand down to me.

“There should be parchment beneath that first pillow. Lift it up for me, please.”

I reached beneath the pillow and, sure enough, found a roll of yellowed parchment. I unrolled it and held it aloft for his inspection.

Basil reached up to his desk and pulled what appeared to be a single teacup from the edge. The liquid inside was steaming, heavily aromatic with hints of vanilla and lavender. AsI watched, it began to congeal, brown shifting to a black so dark it absorbed light. Basil gestured vaguely over the mixture before flicking his finger toward the parchment. Splatters of what looked like ink spread out in fine lines across the parchment. Astrid peered at it in undisguised wonder.

“Is that potion what I think it is?” she asked.

Basil smiled gently. “Most likely. You always were a bright student. I hope to see you in my classes again next term.”

“Definitely,” Astrid promised.

“What kind of potion is it?” I asked.

“Invisible ink,” Astrid said in an almost reverent tone. “Like, the real stuff—not what humans use. It conceals the picture or message on the parchment from anyone but the owner. Only the owner can show the contents of the map to someone.”

“I did not touch that piece of parchment with my bare skin,” Basil informed me. “Since you’re the first to touch it, the ink will consider you the rightful owner. Only those you choose to reveal the map to can read it. If it were to fall into enemy hands, it would appear to be just a blank piece of parchment.”

“Really?” I leaned over, eyeing the cup he’d set back on the desk. “That’s handy. Why aren’t we using this for Council meetings?”

“Because, you see, the tea is quite difficult to brew,” Basil said. “It takes a month to brew properly, and the measurements must be precise, or there could be dangerous consequences. Not even most potion scholars would dare attempt it. Additionally, very little of the key herb remains in the mundane world. However, there’s a nice little cache in the botanical department, courtesy of Professor Tranklin.”

Though we were definitely alone, he looked around as if sensing eavesdroppers. “Incidentally, I would appreciate it if you refrained from mentioning the tea to her. She will not appreciate my surreptitious pilfering.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have thought of you as the type to pilfer.”

“Generally speaking, I am not. But this is one of the rare cases where the ends justify the less-than-savory means.”

Normally, I would have argued the point. I didn’t endorse the “ends justify the means” mentality. The lie of a better future was a way for people to avoid responsibility for the harm they caused in the present. And when it came to my family, I was a big ol’ hypocrite. There were very few things I wouldn’t do for those I cared about. I was about to attempt a palace coup for my dead brother. I’d move heaven and earth for those still among the living.

“I’ve imprinted the ink with my memories of my love’s secret getaway,” Basil continued. “My information on the palace is somewhat less reliable, but it’s in there too. It should provide you with detailed sketches of what you’ll be dealing with. For example...” He flicked a finger at the parchment, and fresh lines slowly crept across the page. After a moment, the picture resolved into one of the abandoned back corridors in Castle Rose. The detail was so exquisite that I was tempted to reach out and touch it. If it weren’t for the black-and-white medium, I would have sworn I was looking at a photo, not a drawing. Astrid let out a soft ‘ooh’ of appreciation, and I almost echoed her. Having Basil along was sounding like a better idea with every passing minute.

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