Ch. 9: The Heist

AMBERLY

I left the palace only minutes after Lorcan did.

When he’d told me he’d be gone the whole day—at the very least, until midnight—I knew I’d have more than enough time to get to the Queendom and back. I didn’t know the exact distance, but from the maps I’d seen I knew the distance was roughly a hundred miles—ground easily covered should I find a well-bred horse.

And I did. Upon locating the palace stables, I found a black thoroughbred and my mind was set. What little equestrian I did as an extracurricular in high school really came through, because within five minutes I had the horse saddled and out of the stables. Nobody blinked an eye when I requested the drawbridge to be lowered, so that I could go on a ‘leisurely ride.’

Nobody saw the hidden dagger strapped to my thigh.

The moment I was out of the guards’ sight, I snapped the reins and pressed my horse into a gallop. Within minutes, I was well out of the city and deep into the flat expanse of the western Faelands.

The whole ride to the Queendom was a delicate balance of ensuring I remained firmly in the saddle and battling off a heavy sense of guilt. By going to the Queendom alone, I was breaking my promise to Lorcan. I knew I was. But really, what choice did I have? I couldn’t just sit idly by when the Wicked One could discover the sword’s true identity at any moment. No, I needed to act, and fast.

1

Besides, I had a whole twelve hours to use. I could get there and back without Lorcan even noticing. He’d be none the wiser.

The only issue would be explaining how I’d gotten the sword, but that was a problem for another. Now, I had to focus on my main objective: get the sword, and get the fuck out of there before getting caught.

The first hints of dusk are bleeding into the sky by the time I reach the edge of the woodland bordering the Queendom. Dismounting my stallion, I lead him to a tree and tie him to it. Once the knot is secure, I walk some fifty yards away and crouch behind a bush, staring at the palace walls while half-hidden by leaves.

I click open the little gold pocket watch I’d taken from the royal chambers. 5:00 PM. That gives me seven left to get the sword and get back to the Fae Kingdom.

I can do that. Easy.

“You’re doing the right thing,” the Lion tells me for the umpteenth time. “Now you just have to infiltrate.”

“Where exactly is the sword, do you know?”

“In the throne room,” the Lion replies. “Don’t ask me how I know; I just do.”

“And how do I get in there without getting seen? Throne rooms are always guarded.”

“You’ll have to figure out the perfect time to infiltrate the throne room, which would be their dinner time. There’s no reason anyone should be in the throne room then—not even the guards.”

I groan quietly. “How am I supposed to know when that is?”

“I don’t know. You’re going to have to get inside the palace to figure it out.”

“What, with my face? They’ll know I’m Fae.”

“Not necessarily,” the Lion corrects. “You possess light. Not enough to do damage yet, perhaps, but enough to do other things.”

“Such as?”

“Distort your appearance. Create illusions.”

I’m silent for a long moment, staring at the sun as it sinks behind the skyline.

“Not unless you steal someone else’s identity.” The Lion pauses. “Look over there.”

I swivel around, and that is when I see a rather tall girl walking through the woods. She’s about fifty yards away from me, following the dirt path that leads to the gates.

“Now’s your chance,” the Lion growls.

I cast a side-long look towards the palace walls, where guards undoubtedly wait. We’re still quite deep in the woods; the trees will obscure her, but not for long.

Without a second thought, I rip the dagger from my thigh and charge towards her. She remains utterly obvious to my advance until the last second, but it’s too late—I have her cornered against a tree within seconds.

My knife settles at her throat.

“Tell me your name,” I hiss. Her wide, brown eyes stare back at me—face is entirely leeched of color. She opens her mouth, perhaps to scream, but I push the dagger further into her flesh. “Yell and I’ll kill you.”

She swallows thickly.

“Jasmine Starling,” comes her raspy voice after several moments of silence. Her eyes glisten. “Please, don’t hurt me…”

I hesitate. I’ve gotten her identity. The only rational thing left to do now is to kill her. I know the motion of my wrist—the one that would nick her artery and leave her bleeding on the ground.

“Now is not the time to grow a heart, Amberly,” the Lion snarls into my mind, but even still my knife does not move. Sure, I’ve killed before—quite cruelly, in fact—but those people were evil. Wicked. They were trying to kill me.

Could I really take the life of an innocent? Someone who just so happened to be walking by?

“She is the enemy, Amberly. She would kill you if she had the chance,” the Lion snaps. “Kill her.”

But I can’t. Some strange shred of humanity—one that I’ve somehow managed to retain after all this time—stops me.

Instead, I take the butt of my dagger and slam it into the side of her head, knocking her out cold.

“You are an idiot!” the Lion roars.

“Oh, shut up, will you?” I snap, fishing a thick rope from one of my pockets and tying it around her arms and legs. “You’re so damn dramatic.”

“Do you expect her to stay asleep forever? When she wakes, you know she’s going to alert the guards—”

“And I’ll be done before then.” I stand and slip the dagger back into its sheath. “It’ll all be fine.”

“You have far too much faith in yourself.”

“And you too little. Now tell me how to make myself look like her.”

The Lion grumbles something incoherent. I choose not to hear it, if only to keep the peace.

“Look at her face. Memorize all her features.”

I stare at her. Brown eyes. Blonde hair. Pale skin with pink splotches and a dust of freckles. She’s tall for a witch, thankfully.

“Okay…” I say slowly. “Now what?”

“Now, close your eyes. Imagine superimposing all those features onto your face.”

I shut my eyes, scowling when I realize just how abstract that concept is. “How do I—?”

“Concentrate,” the Lion snaps. “When you’re ready, summon your light magic to your face and everything else should fall into place. Just keep her face in your mind’s eye.”

My brows scrunch, but I do as the Lion says as I imagine replacing my features with the witch’s. Once I have it firmly in my mind’s eye, I summon my light to my face, a warm tingle rushing over my skin as it gets to work.

For a full minute, I am suspended in deep concentration.

“There you go,” the Lion murmurs. My eyes snap open, and my hands instantly move to my dagger. I stare into the polished blade and, sure enough, Jasmine Starling’s face stares back at me—rich brown eyes and all.

“Oh,” I whisper out loud. “That’s…”

“There’s no time for awe. Get into the palace before the effect wears off. Your magic stores are still low—this facade will not last long.”

I nod and sheath my dagger. Giving one last look at the slumbering girl, I turn and walk out from the bushes, trying to mimic her breezy walk using the limited memory of what I saw before. I manage to get almost twenty feet within the palace gates before a voice rings out.

“Halt!” one of the witches calls from above, and I draw to a stop. “Identify yourself!”

“Jasmine Starling,” I say evenly. My pulse thumps in my ears as the witch scrutinizes me for several eternally long moments.

Then, she tugs on a lever, and the iron-wrought gates begin to groan open.

Releasing a steadying breath, I walk inside.

It’s a very intimidating structure, with high cobblestone walls and large silver spires. It doesn’t have the ethereal, terrifying sort of beauty that the Fae Kingdom does. It just looks… horrid. Cruel in its gray stones and grotesque angles.

When I ascend the stairs towards the palace, two witches rush forward to pull the large double doors open, and within moments I find myself back inside the palace. The place where I died and came back to life.

My heart begins to pound.

“Now is not the time to get nostalgic,” the Lion grumbles into my mind. “Locate the throne room, find the sword, and get out of here. The lack of life in this entranceway suggests dinner is already underway.”

I nod and start down the main corridor. Sure enough, I pass by nobody as I make my way down, and I manage to make my way down several long halls before I sense my light guttering, and the mirage falling away from my face.

I curse, trying to put the facade back into place only for it to dissipate. Great. Now my disguise is gone. Damn my lack of magic!

“Don’t worry about that. Just find the sword and get out of here. Quickly.”

I nod and, before I know it, I’m rushing down a maze of corridors trying to locate this stupid room. It’s a shame that the layout of the Queendom is nothing like the Kingdom. I am on the verge of screaming out in rage when I turn down a rather large hall, and two high arching doors stare back at me from the end.

I stagger to a stop. That has got to be the throne room!

Checking around to ensure no one is behind me, I creep towards the doors, pressing my ear to the thick wood. When nothing but silence greets me, I nudge the door open, cringing at every loud groan until I’m fully inside.

I allow the door to fall shut behind me.

“There,” the Lion hisses. I look and, sure enough, there it is. Perched up against the throne is the late Witch Queen’s sword, still as black and horrid as I remember it.

Without hesitation, I stride across the room and snatch it up in my palms, as though half-expecting it to grow legs and run away.

But it doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t. It’s a sword.

“Right, now let’s get out of here,” the Lion says.

I spin towards the exit, only for the doors to groan open the moment I’m facing them.

My heart stops dead in my chest. I stand, rigid, frozen, as I watch a head of golden locks spill inside, followed by a rather pretty face. A face I have not forgotten; one that still haunts my nightmares.

Her eyes—as blue and as dead as I remember—snap to mine, and she stops in her tracks.

For several moments, we just stare at each other in silence. It’s like when two animals size each other up, assessing the other with keen eyes, knowing that, at any moment, one is going to lunge and the other is going to have to fight back.

Or, run away, as my body is begging me to do.

Because I am not prepared for a fight. Hell, I did not even anticipate getting caught.

Narcassia’s eyes slide to the sword, and when they widen, I know she has come to the conclusion I didn’t want her to reach. That this sword is not just a sword, but something more. Something enticing enough to lure me out of my pretty palace and straight into the hornet’s nest. Something very, very powerful.

Oh, fuck. I have to get out of here. Now.

“That’s my mother’s,” Narcassia snarls. Her eyes flick up to mine, swirling with the kind of incomprehensible rage that ruins cities. “You killed her, remember?”

“I did,” I blurt without thinking. “The wailing bitch deserved it, too.”

I clap my free hand over my mouth, and Narcassia’s eyes—which were burning before—ignite with renewed vigor, and I hardly have time to react before she charges toward me.

Grasping the hilt with both hands, I shakily raise the sword. I hardly have time to act before she’s upon me, hands reaching out to claw at my face, to destroy me in any way she can.

And it’s almost funny. Comical, even, because her ferocity causes me to jerk the swords upward in fright, and when I do, the flat of the blade smacks right against her temple and sends her careening to the ground.

She collapses in a heap. I stare at her, heart pounding, half-expecting her to leap back up.

But she doesn’t. She’s out cold.

“What a stupid girl,” the Lion snarls into my head. “Go on, Amberly. Run.”

My legs respond to his words in an instant, however I’m hardly five steps across the throne room when the door swings open again, and I freeze in terror.

And hell, I have never felt fear so intense.

The woman I see before me is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She’s beautiful. Horrifying. Ethereal. Terrible. Black locks reach her waist, and eyes as dark as the empty space between stars stare back at me—soulless, cruel.

I stagger back with a gasp. Everything about this woman screams pain and death, and I know there’s only one person who could have such an aura.

The Wicked One.

“AMBERLY!” the Lion roars into my mind, and I know I only have so many seconds to make a decision. To escape before the Wicked One crosses the distance, claims the sword and takes her power back. Mere seconds now stand between me and the death of everything and everyone.

I don’t think. It’s like the terror I feel in her mere presence expels every rational thought from my mind, reducing me to a frantic animal. And when I spy the long window along the left-hand wall, one in which the night beckons from beyond, my mind is made.

My legs move before I know what’s happening. One moment, I am light upon my feet. The next, glass is crashing, shards are digging into my flesh, and, with a breath of cold night air, I fall.