Page 70 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
But by afternoon, neither of us are laughing. We let the horses go early because we have to keep pulling them aside into thickets while rat-soldiers troop past. The first patrol nearly sniffs us out, but I find a deflection bomb in Fin’s kit and toss it. The orb bursts in midair, diffusing into a white powder. The moment the rat-soldiers inhale it, they head off in the opposition direction.
“He’s a genius, your cousin,” I whisper as we extricate ourselves from the bushes after that first encounter.
“He’s extremely powerful. And he has the gift of condensing magic into compact, portable, reliable form.”
“And a delicious form.”
“Yes, it is delicious.” Lir’s mouth tips up. “I suppose he is a genius in his own way. Other Fae can package spells, too, but the way Finias does it—the flavor and the flair—those are all his own.”
I spend the next hour attempting to memorize most of the contents of Fin’s satchel. I’ve never been good at rote memorization, so I allow myself to leap around on the chart, creating an odd little song out of the names of the spells. I’m not sure how much of it sticks in my brain.
After we narrowly escape two more patrols, we shoulder our packs and release the horses. It’s much too hard to try to hide their bulk as well as concealing ourselves.
“So we go on foot from here,” Lir says grimly.
As the sun sets, we creep through the bushes, careful to stay undercover as we crawl right to the edge of the Ravine. Several winged Unseelie are wheeling in the red-streaked sky, and Lir presses down on my head when I lift it too high.
“Careful,” he hisses.
“I’m very careful.” Writhing on my belly, I squirm closer to the lip of the Ravine.
Nothing could have prepared me for the enormity of the scar delved into the flesh of Faerie. At the bottom, far far down, where it’s already dark, armored figures churn between black tents, uplit by red fires.
“We can’t get down there, cross it, and climb back up the other side in one night,” I whisper to Lir.
“No, I don’t suppose we can,” he says glumly. “This is the narrowest part of the Ravine, from what I can remember. At Fae speed it would be possible to do it in a night, but you and I aren’t that quick. And we’ll have to go slowly, creeping along.”
“We’ll get caught, Lir. When dawn comes, we’ll be downthere, and we’ll be trapped. There’s nowhere to hide, except in one of their tents.”
With a grunt of abject frustration, he punches the ground we’re lying on, then sets his forehead on top of his fist.
“I should go down there,” he says, breathing heavily, “and give myself up.”
“Don’t say that.” I jab him with my elbow. “Don’t ever.”
“Why not? I’ve already lost the fight. I was stupid enough to get captured by Drosselmeyer, which allowed my kingdom to be overrun. Now my people are in hiding or dead. Your sister is gone because I let you two come with me. And my cousin, the only person who could have helped us through this part, has run off to save her. Since my father died, it’s all gone from bad to worse. And I am the common link in the mess. I ruin everything around me, without even meaning to.” His breath hitches, almost a sob. “All I wanted was to be a good, wise ruler. If my father could see this—if he knew how badly I’ve wrecked his legacy—”
He buries his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving.
Slowly I reach out and run my fingers through his dark hair. I stroke the silky waves, trace the pointed tips of his ears gently. Then my hand travels to his back, rubbing in circles. He’s wearing the Nutcracker’s uniform again.
I have no words that will comfort him. As I rub his back, I conjure and discard several phrases that might end up being more of a discouragement than otherwise. My brain gives up on the task and begins skipping to new topics, like how difficult it must be to get supplies down into that Ravine for the army, and how crossing the Ravine or moving troops out of it must be a massive amount of work.
And that’s when I have a realization.
“They’ve made ramps,” I mutter. “Or lifts, or bridges. They’d have to. It’s the only way, unless he plans on moving them with magic.”
“What?” Lir mumbles.
“You can see in the dark better than I can,” I tell him. “Look as far as you can in both directions. Do you see any towers that might have a lift mechanism? Or bridges?”
“There have never been any bridges here. The chasm is too wide.”
“But there might be a bridge now.”
“It would take an immense amount of magic, or a multitude of workers,” he protests.
“Lir.” I snake my fingers through his hair again, gathering a handful and tightening my grip. I pull his face up from the ground. “Just look.”
