Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Lily

She had a plan.

“A lifetime in my service?” Efaffion repeated, eyes flickering with an emotion she couldn’t read. Her chest tightened, and the air in her lungs suddenly did not feel like enough.

Of course, she had no idea if her plan would work. She didn’t know enough about the eleve to be able to count on it, and she doubted that such a creature – ageless, immortal – would be stupid enough to allow her to trick him. Then again, maybe it was simple enough that it might just work.

“Yes,” Lily said, courage failing. The way he watched her was unnerving, as if she were a gift to be unwrapped slowly, layer by layer. Steeling herself, she managed to continue. “But only if I lose.”

“And if you win?”

“I – I walk out of here alive. And whole, and well, and still me. In this time. No tricks,” she added, though she doubted it would work. She had to be smart about her wording; no eleve would agree to no tricks, not upfront like that. Trickery was in their nature, emblazoned into their very souls.

She really wished she’d paid more attention in school.

They’d studied the eleves when she was younger, years before her mother had died. She’d been different, then – snickering in the back of the classroom with Rose, taking notes only when the teacher glared at her.

Eleves, like the faelen, made up most of Eldda’s bloody history. Having joined together in The Longest War, they had been marked into Lily’s textbooks in black ink, illustrated with pictures of long, curved teeth, of cruel eyes, of wicked, pointed ears. They were the enemy, even now.

And now Lily was face to face with one of them, in their own territory.

Efaffion rolled his eyes. “Fine – no tricks.” Nudging her, he corralled her towards the far side of the bridge. With a sinking stomach, she crossed the rest of the distance.

She didn’t believe he was telling the truth, but it was reassuring to hear the lie nonetheless. She repeated his words to herself with every uncertain step, allowing them to ground her. She had to focus, to think fast and to act even faster, if she wanted to get out of Oakhame.

Though she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Would spending her life indebted to an eleve really be so bad? Efaffion seemed to have little interest in killing her, at least, and she had no pack to return to, no purpose. He wouldn’t make her fight, she didn’t think, and Oakhame was beautiful, if a little strange.

It wasn’t that magic was a new concept for Lily. The Blood Moon pack always had a resident witch, for both simple spells, like the enchanted decorations at the monthly moon festivals, and for the far more important matter of protection. Witches were power in a world of wolves, and Atticus craved power above all else.

But magic such as this was new: as the sun, which seemed to be permanently held just cresting the horizon; as the ladders, which required one to only get close for them to be able to ascend; as the glamours, which changed appearances; as their mind-skimming abilities, able to pick out key information in order to confound their victims. Efaffion knew her name, though she had never spoken it aloud, as well as the visage of her father – which he’d copied with freakish accuracy.

She hoped that was the extent of what he knew. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t.

“You wish to hear my riddle, then?” she asked eventually, her heart thundering in her chest. She had no doubt that, pressed as close as they were, he could hear the hammering of her pulse just beneath her skin. It was unnerving for her, and she longed to feel the cold hilt of her father’s blade against her palm.

Such a desire was almost as unnerving as the position she was in. Even before her mother’s death, Lily had never been prone to violence. Then again, she cajoled, she’d never been captured by a malicious eleve before.

“I was doing you a kindness by allowing you to stall,” Efaffion murmured. His lips curved into a smile against her neck, and she shuddered. He was impossibly close. “You must be hungry. I thought perhaps you would enjoy one last hot meal as a free woman, before you become little more than my toy.”

Her stomach growled. It had been hours – maybe days – since she’d last eaten. She had no idea how long she’d been cast into the magical sleep for. Despite her hunger, she shook her head. Something in her sparked at the promise of food, but another instinct, something darker and rawer than even the need to eat, killed the flame before it could grow.

“I’m not hungry,” she lied. “And I do not wish for your kindness, Efaffion.”

It was done. She had said his name. Lily waited for something to happen – for twinkling lights to appear, perhaps, or for birds to float on weightless wings towards them, chirping merrily in the face of her victory, of his defeat.

But there was only silence, save for Efaffion’s snort.

“Don’t tell me that was your plan,” he laughed, pushing her almost good-naturedly across a small platform joining together two bridges. “You wanted to bind me to you? I’m afraid you’d need my true name for that, Lily. And no eleve is foolish enough to so much as think their true name after their birth. It is recorded, and then forgotten.” He chuckled again, utterly at ease. Lily’s heart sank.

“It wasn’t,” she said stiffly. “I don’t have a plan. I do have a riddle, though.”

With a great, long-suffering sigh, Efaffion let go of her. With her arms still held tightly behind her back, and no magical ladders in sight, Lily remained where she was.

She couldn’t escape. But there was something she could do.

Efaffion leant back, folding his arms across his chest. This was her chance.

Before he could move, Lily turned in three tight circles. Removing the glamour would do little to help her, but at least she would no longer be forced to stare at her father’s face. Every glimpse of it brought back the memory of her shame, and invoked the fear that she had done the wrong thing in leaving him alone. A turbid cocktail of emotion filled her lungs every time she met his eyes, guilt and anger and self-pity rising in her throat, drowning her.

To her surprise, Efaffion made no move to stop her. He reclined against the railing, surveying her with a cool, disinterested gaze. She half imagined him to start picking at the dirt lining his nails, and then every thought was blown from her mind as his form began to shimmer and change.

Heleddri’s beauty had been terrifying. Efaffion was beautiful despite being terrifying.

Two rubies replaced her dad’s eyes, glinting in the dawn light. Shimmering red hair – true red, like crisp autumn leaves – hung about his shoulders and down his back, curling gently at the ends. His hard jaw shifted, and full lips pulled back to reveal shining teeth made of assorted jewels. Whiskers pierced the ice-white skin above his mouth, and they moved as if on their own, shifting like snakes.

If Lily hadn’t believed in magic before, watching Efaffion’s ruby eyes follow the minute movements of her trembling body, clearly able to see despite being two rough-hewn chunks of crystal, would have convinced her of its validity.

He shrugged at her. “I only needed the glamour to coax you out of the tent. You know who – and what – I am now, anyway. So feel like you’ve won if you please, Lily. You haven’t.”

Her dad’s face had been far preferable to this. And, though her mouth ached to stumble over the words, she had to get away. She could not live a life of servitude. She was a Warrior Wolf, not an eleve’s plaything.

No matter how amiable Efaffion had, at times, been, it did not change the fact that he had stolen her from comparative safety. Lily did not know the extent of his plans for her, but she did know one thing. She was not safe here.

“I covet that which is beautiful,” he purred, taking a step towards her. Everything in Lily recoiled at his unnatural face, at those inhuman eyes. “And you, Lily, are a masterpiece.”

“Stop saying my name,” she spat. It was all she could think of; the smallest of his insults, but somehow the most pertinent. She had not given it willingly, and it stung to hear him use it so freely.

“But you tried to say mine. Now – let us continue. I offered you time, but it is clear that you wish to join my collection just as much as I long to add you to it.” Folding his arms across his chest, Lily saw a glint of gold around his wrists, and nails that looked disconcertingly like gemstones tipping his fingers. A shiver unfurled down her back, and goose bumps pimpled her skin.

Lily’s plan began and ended with the use of Efaffion’s name. She stammered, knowing of no riddles complex enough to win her freedom. In fact, she didn’t think she knew any riddles at all.

“Unbind me first,” she said suddenly. It was all she could think to do. “Allow me use of my arms, and then I shall let you hear my riddle. Where have I to go, after all?”

He huffed at her. “Why should I make this easier for you?”

“Because it – it will be more of a challenge for you. I cannot think straight with my arms behind me like this. You wanted a game, Efaffion. Allow me to give you one – a good one, a proper one.”

With a click of his fingers, Lily’s arms fell to her sides. Rubbing her wrists, she watched him carefully. Perhaps that was the weakness she could exploit.

“Thank you,” she said. He inclined his head, and then shifted his weight restlessly.

“Your riddle,” he prompted. Even unbound, she felt as though steel chains were holding her down.

Desperately, she nodded. “Yes – my riddle.” Forcing herself to avoid filling the silence with anything but clear speech, she paused. She’d never been particularly talented with words or games such as this, but she was good at other things. Things she often wanted to avoid, things she hated the idea of being associated with.

Now, she hoped they’d save her life.

“There is a king,” she began, pushing as much confidence into her voice as she could. “A much-loved king, with years of experience behind him. His people touch the ground he has walked on, pressing their fingertips into the dirt if only to catch an inkling of his power. But the king is cursed.”

As she spoke, she eyed the bridge they had come to a halt upon. Though they were up a tree, it wasn’t as high as where the Hall of Thunder had been. The first bridge they’d crossed had followed a gradual decline, and – though it would hurt like hell – Lily thought she’d survive the fall.

She wasn’t good with words, but she thought that she could use her fighting skills to get free of Oakhame – if only she could escape Efaffion. It was fortunate that her other talent was her steel core, utterly determined and stubborn. Such force of will was the only reason she did not blanche at the thought of falling.

“Cursed how?” Efaffion asked, frustrated by her silence.

“Cursed – cursed by an old and dark history. He is different from those he commands.” Lily wanted to curse herself for rambling. She took a tiny step back, hoping that Efaffion was too fixated on her words to notice. “He looks different, and yet nobody can see anything amiss. He appears the same, though he is not.”

Efaffion rubbed his hands together, a slow smile spreading across his inhuman face. The chunks of ruby in place of his eyes glittered. Sickness coiled in her gut, and she allowed herself to step closer to the railing. She’d have to be quick – and fearless.

“He is in plain sight,” she added, speaking louder to cover her footfalls. “Day and night. He cannot hide, but he does not need to be hidden.”

Then her back touched the railing, and, before she could think twice about it, she flung herself off the bridge.