That part of me was breaking apart from what I’d done. Even though it had been the only way...
Even if he was exactly what I’d feared he was.
Even if I…
I shook those thoughts out of my head, refusing to turn back. Voices drifted toward me from the cracked war room door. I crept across the stone, quiet as a mouse, and caught snippets of Niamh’s conversation with Alastair.
“The storm fae are desperate to get their hands on Tessa,” Niamh said grimly. “We can’t let her leave this castle until this war is over.”
“Hmph,” Alastair replied as an answer.
“You’re growing too soft, Al. You know I’m right. Kal thinks so, too.” A rustle. “She is the key to us winning. If they get her, we’re all dead.”
I fisted my hand around the leather strap of the Mist King’s pack and carried on. For some nonsensical reason, I had hoped that the others weren’t in on the Mist King’s plan to betray me. I’d hoped they’d truly believed we were trying to save my family. But I should have known. They were his closest companions. His dearest friends.
Of course they’d been in on it.
Not a single fae inside this castle was my friend.
As soon as I was out of earshot, I quickened my steps. I couldn’t dally much longer. Eventually, someone would stop by the Mist King’s quarters and find him a pile of ash inside. They’d quickly realize I was on the run and come after me.
I needed to be out of this castle before that happened.
No guards blocked my way as I rushed into the shadowy courtyard. Midnight was in the stables, munching on hay.
“Hello, Midnight. I’m back already.” I grabbed a saddle and prepared him to run, tying the pack on as well. “We need to go. Fast.”
He gave me a strange look but didn’t object as I led him out of the castle gates and down the hill. We didn’t stop, as painful as my feet felt. Exhaustion was ripping my eyes and body to shreds, but I knew I had to keep moving. Every moment wasted took me one step closer to the shadow fae catching up to me.
At the base of the mountain, I swung up onto Midnight’s back and urged him forward. He took off through the mists. Hours passed. My vision grew blurry, and a few times, I started to slide off his back. Once, the jar of his gallop nearly knocked me off into the blowing sand.
I desperately needed to rest. I wasn’t going to make it unless I did.
Midnight slowed outside the abandoned village where Kalen—no, the Mist King—and I had stayed. Heart in my throat, I dismounted and scanned the empty courtyard. My eyes caught on the home with its broken window and rotted, swinging door.
Sorrow filled my heart.
Here, he’d saved me from a pooka. Here, he’d broken down my walls.
And I thought I’d broken down his. At least partially.
Sagging against the horse, I closed my eyes. Why did all that have to be a lie?
“It’s no use wishing for things that never were and never will be,” I whispered to Midnight before opening my eyes. He stared at me and stomped his hooves. I couldn’t tell if he agreed or if he was angry at me. After all, he’d tried to help the Mist King, too.
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
The bed was just as we’d left it. No one else had stayed here from what I could tell. Sighing, I settled onto the empty mattress and pulled the cloak up to my chin. I’d brought it with me. It still smelled like him.
“Goodnight, Midnight,” I whispered.
Some might’ve found it odd to bring a horse inside a house, but I wouldn’t leave him out there in the mists to fend for himself. Pookas could decide to enter this building, but he’d fare better in here than out there. Wooden walls were better than mist.
Besides, I felt safer with him by my side.
Despite my raw emotions and churning thoughts, it did not take long for sleep to claim me. With the Mist King’s heavy cloak warm against my body and the soothing sound of Midnight’s breaths, I drifted away into a familiar dream.
* * *