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Heir of Storm (Half-Blood Huntress Chronicles Book 2) by D.D. Miers, Graceley Knox (8)

Eight

Rosalind led the way back to the deep conduit that led to the strange room I the manor while I carried Newt and kept as close to her as I could without stepping on her heels. “Are you certain your friend will be waiting for you?”

“He’s not high Fae,” I chuckled, grateful for his suspicious nature concerning all things pure-blooded. “He’ll be there.” He’d been more disappointed than I had when he learned that even among the Fae were bigots who believed his kind were inferior.

“A human?”

“Even better. A shifter. As strong as any high Fae or goblin, and ten times as brave and loyal.”

“A werewolf was admitted to Fairy?”

“A were-jaguar, actually. And yes, he was. Don’t tell me you believe in all that nonsense the nobles tell the rest of you to prove their natural superiority, Rosa,” I panted. Newt giggled at me and scurried around my back, clinging to me like a baby koala. Her arms were too tight around my neck for comfort, but it gave me the use of my arms, which I’d need soon.

Rosalind skidded to a stop at the base of the rope as the torches in the room flared to life. She touched the rope almost reverently. “It’s really here.”

“Rosalind,” I cautioned. “There are guards at the top waiting for us, too. I need to know who I’m putting myself on the line for.”

“I was a handmaid for… well, for one of the noblewomen of the court. Her name no longer matters, she may even be gone by now.” I watched her run her hand over the rope almost lovingly as she wandered through the cobwebbed corridors of her own memory, understanding that I had never asked how long she’d been forgotten in the Fae oubliette.

“You were raised to think some Fae were better than others.”

“And that I was lucky to be Fae at all,” she finished, her eyes clearing as her gaze met mine. “My apologies for being rude about your friend. I’d forgotten all the terrible things about our kind, trying to cling to the good.”

I’d squeezed her in a quick hug before either of us realized I was doing it. “Hang onto me with Newt, I can get us all up the rope.” She flashed me a smile, the first I’d seen since meeting her.

“Oh, I have to climb all the time, to get to the best mushrooms for Newt to eat, and the cleanest water. I can handle climbing to my freedom, Princess.”

"It's Morgan. Just Morgan." I tugged on the rope and held my breath. After a moment, it jerked in my hands, and I could exhale. I pulled myself up and tested my balance with the small person on my back, then climbed to the top, occasional gentle tugs on the rope beneath me the only proof I had that Rosalind had followed me.

"Hey, you have something on your back." Grayson pulled me all the way out of the hole, and a guard stepped forward, knife extended.

"Stop." I held my hand out, praying that Rosalind hadn't gotten scared or been shaken off by my dismount. Her slender, dirt-streaked fingers clutched my hand in the inky blackness, and I pulled her up as easily as Gray had lifted me.

Newt was removed from my back, and when I turned around, she had her face buried in my boyfriend's neck. "Nice work slick, but neither of these little ladies," Gray said, tickling Newt under one arm, "neither of them hurt Pen, did they?" I shook my head no but pressed my lips together signaling I couldn't talk. He sighed and nodded. "Well, what now?"

“Now, you put those prisoners back where they came from,” ordered a gold-plate wearing guard.

“No. Now I feed my friends and get an explanation as to why a pregnant Fae was put in the pit and forced to give birth there. Children aren’t common enough among the immortals for this to have been sanctioned by the king.”

The guard opened her mouth and shut it again, hard enough that I heard the clack of her teeth. “I will escort you to the king, Princess.”

I smiled at Gray. “I think we need to see to Penelope and our friends first, don’t you, Grayson?” he managed a curt nod, but his eyes were moving over the guards again, planning his defense if they attacked. “Rosalind this is my friend, Grayson Xenos. Please, come with us.”

When I’d descended, I’d left four guards and a were-jaguar behind. When we returned, the cushioned seats on the tiers that had sat empty had filled with silk-clad nobility, staring down at us. Rosalind pressed herself narrowly between my side and the pit, breathing hard. I took her hand in my left, and Gray’s took my right, and together, we strode from the brightly hued ugliness of Fae voyeurism, breaking apart as I led them in a jog toward the guest wing.

“I didn’t know there would be so many familiar faces,” she gasped as I shut the door behind us. She saw Penelope on the bed and went to her side. Holding her hand a couple of inches over her unconscious form, she slowly moved her palm from her head to her toes and back again, much like Ravenna had. “Oh, someone doesn’t want her to wake up at all. I am glad I saw her. You cannot remove her from Fairy, Princess.” I glanced at Gray.

“What do you mean?”

"Oh, the manor itself holds her, lady. She is tied to the magic of this place as much as the wisps and the pit area."

The door opened and closed quietly before I could react, and Millie squeaked and ran to the pixie at my side. "Rosalind, I'm so glad she found you. I prayed she would, and she did, and now I know that the Goddess still hears our prayers and oh my goodness you smell so bad, but I'm so happy to see you…" she babbled faster than I'd ever heard her speak until Grayson put his hand on her shoulder and she gasped and turned to him.

"You're Morgan's…assistant, right?" Millie rolled her eyes at her newfound friend but nodded. "Good. Our new friends…your friend, needs food, clean clothes, a warm bath, and some rest."

“But she can’t leave this room until I know it’s safe for her,” I interjected, and Rosalind and Millie both shook their heads up and down in vigorous agreement. “I hate that your still a prisoner, Rosa.”

"It's a much prettier prison, Princess…" her voice trailed off, and she glanced at Millie.

Millie touched the side of her nose. “Remember Princess, how I said we servants have our own way around?” I did and agreed to what I assumed her plan was.

“Okay, do what you will, but if you get caught before I procure a get out of jail card from the king, I can’t help you, okay?”

They agreed, and Millie informed her friend that the mistress in question had long since left the light Fae and joined the dark, and the nobles cared so little for their own attendants that no one would even notice her once she was clean and fed.

Newt simply stared in silence at the room, blinking her wide, round eyes against the light after so much darkness. I asked the wisps to tone it down for her, and they disappeared, replaced by soft candles that sprang to life on the fireplace mantel and my writing desk.

"The little one will need Ravenna, and perhaps it is best if she is the one to approach my father about why she was born in the pit since I'll just get myself thrown back in there in my current mood."

We had a skip to catch, and Penelope had to stay behind. Millie and Rosalind promised to work on the puzzle of why the manor had claimed my friend and how to extricate her, and Gray left ahead of me to call Niall. I hated that he was so happy to leave, but I couldn’t blame him, after his introduction via Fae torture hole.

But what did it mean for us, that half of who I was, horrified and repulsed him?

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