Page 201 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I won’t see Rahk either. And that feels like the greatest loss of all.

I’ve spent my life reacting to the great losses I’ve experienced, not realizing how much more I had to lose.

You’ve got to be brave, Kat,I tell myself, trying to fortify my spine.You cannot shrink before these cursed fae.

But now that I am alone in this dungeon, in the dreadful, unending silence, there is nothing to do but doubt that I have enough strength to meet a torturous end. My arm aches from the wound and its stitches. Still, the pain feels so minor compared to what I am about to face.

“I don’t know what I am going to do,” I whisper in the darkness. For all that my rage demands violence against Lord and Lady Nothril, I have no power over them. I am a prisoner in their dungeon. “This is all my fault. If I had just not gotten too close to the Wood.Noneof this would have happened.”

All those years of trying to make up for the way I’d destroyed my own life by being a careless child—all those years of trying to free slaves as if that would ever absolve the guilt I bear that I ruined Mama and Father—they come crashing around me with a force that nearly sends my bones splintering. How could I have ever thought such a thing could make up for the curse I am to those who care about me?

Unbidden, faces flash before me from the Mirror. I think of those children with their own masks that mimicked mine. They never would have existed if not for what I did to free their father. But what are those children to me? Distant faces that might have been a lie in the Mirror. They are simply an idea. Now Mary is imprisoned because of me, and if I cannot get her out, she will be ruined like Elizabeth was.

But Elizabeth wasn’t ruined, a tiny voice whispers.

I saw so little of her in the Mirror. She might have nightmares from her time in Faerie. She might be suffering endlessly from the abuse she bore.

Still, somehow, she landed on her feet.

I lean my head back against the cold grate. What if . . . what if all of this is so much bigger than me? What if Jacob was right, and the moment he and I are killed, others will rise up in our place? What if they are able to do more than I ever could? What if the little we did is just the beginning, and that after us, will truly come a flood? What if it is Mary, Becky, Oliver, and Agatha that start the new wave? What if they have their own story beyond being a captive here?

And if that is possibly true, what if my mistake of wandering too close to the Wood as a child . . . could lead to something? If I had not done that, I would not have become the Ivy Mask. And if I had never become the Ivy Mask, so many people would never have been free.

I never would have met Rahk.

Part of me softens as memories return, of our Fool’s Circle games, of making him laugh, of dancing with him without a clue he knew I was a woman, of how good he was to me. Try as I might, I cannot regret knowing him. I cannot regret loving him.

You never would have met him if you had not wandered close to the Wood that day.

I close my eyes and warm tears stream down my cheeks. There are hundreds of things I can berate myself for. There are hundreds of people I can take responsibility for—those that I saved, those I didn’t save, and those who were hurt because of me. I made every rescue and every failure about me. But I see it now.

All of this is so much bigger than just me. It always has been.

My part in this story has come to an end. A bitter, bitter end.

Now, it is time for me to let go. To fully surrender to forces and stories greater than me. I have done what I can. It is time to trust that, just as the suffering and adversity in my life made me stronger, it will do the same in others’ lives. Even the lives of those I love most and wish most dearly to protect.

I have to let it all go.

In this cold, dark, empty part of the world, a strange calmness like I’ve never known falls around my shoulders. My burden is not gone, my fear for my friends has not left me––but for the first time, I feel strong enough to bear it.

A great clang followed by shuffling sounds from somewhere above me.

So, they have come for me.

I get to my feet and walk to the front of my cell.

I will not be afraid,I tell myself, forcing my wobbly legs to stand firm and not retreat as they open my cell.I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid.

The guards tower over me as they clamp iron grips on my arms and drag me out.

I will not be afraid,I think as they haul me into the strange low light of the palace.I will not be afraid,I think when they push open the throne room doors and drag me before Lord and Lady Nothril once again.

I will not be afraid.

The first person I notice in that throne room is not Lord or Lady Nothril, or Pelarusa, or anyone else. It is Pavi—who sits at Lady Nothril’s feet in a gown of pale blue, her tear-streaked face turned away.

I will not be afraid.

---