Chapter Fourteen
Of all things that Pasiphae had expected to be said to her, it wasn't that.
"Excuse me?" she blurted out.
"There are no fae in this country who would not know the road rules," the man who had stopped her said, "and no human who would walk alone. Speak, witch, of who sent you here."
Her heart sunk to her stomach.
These were the people she imagined in school lessons about the deadly fae: the violent Unseelie that lurked in the shadows and snatched people at random.
Magic rolled off them like summer sweat.
"No sudden movements," one said, creeping forward. "Come quietly for your life."
Pasiphae set her muscles tight. She was warned about these sorts of fae, but they were also warned about her.
"I'd rather have you beg for yours."
The faery stopped in his tracks.
Curled and static, her accent had slipped in fully. If there had been doubt earlier, it was gone now. She had essentially screamed at them: WITCH, and in their momentary delay, Pasiphae bent down, scrabbling for the nearby rubbish bag. Before the fae could react, she flung the plastic at them, spilling waste and mouldy food.
The one on the very right with the slightest rip in his wings lunged at her, arms open to pin her down. Pasiphae darted out of the way, pressing against the wall. She kicked out viciously, clipping the faery's head, but only barely.
"Who sent you?" he roared. "Speak!"
Pasiphae gulped for breath, pausing to determine her next steps before he recovered.
"No one sent me," she hissed. "I am Pasiphae of Eo."
Two of them skittered back. It wasn't much, but she had surprised them enough that they didn't react immediately as she bolted off, taking the opening.
It did not take long for them to begin chase. She needed to be out of sight before they reached for magic.
Pasiphae dove into a shop, pushing past fae that complained loudly before emerging out the other open end. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that her pursuers had seen where she gone.
Deaths.
The problem was her giant cloak. She may as well have worn a billowing flag on her shoulders.
Pasiphae held the corners of the fabric down, slowing her pace in hopes of blending in. There were too many lights. Every inch of her face was lit with colours.
At one point, she slowed to a walk within a crowd. Carefully, she looked back, scanning the scene for the four fae men. They had lost sight of where she was. She took the opportunity to slip down a set of stairs and into a low door many others were filing into.
This seemed to be the busiest building on the street.
Pasiphae used her sleeves to wipe the rain water from her face, forcing her heartbeat to slow. Her eyes adjusted slowly. She had entered a gambling den, judging by the low lighting and the absolute chaos. There were fae dealing cards and fae spinning chance wheels, all screaming at one another or looking a few seconds away from beating each other up.
Pasiphae stood next to a few tables situated by the door: seating for the fae that weren't gathered around the exchange of money. By the smell of thick smoke and oil grease, Pasiphae assumed this place doubled as a restaurant.
She glanced at the window. She didn't think she was being followed anymore, but it was hard to tell.
"Planning to sit?" a faery waitress asked her, wiping down the next table over while the occupants were still eating. They gave her strange looks, but the girl just kept on cleaning.
"Yeah," Pasiphae sighed, dragging out a chair. Grimacing, she moved it away from a sticky puddle on the floor.
Pasiphae waited for the waitress to leave, but she just kept staring.
"Going to get anything?"
"Waiting out the rain," Pasiphae replied shortly.
As they were speaking, a brawl broke out at the other side of the den, with one faery smashing another's face into the wall over and over again. Other fae didn't so much as glance over.
Pasiphae forced her face to become as flippant. She rested her head in her hands, watching the window for any hints of her pursuers.
A clink of glass sounded before her.
The waitress had set down a dark blue drink in front of her and taken a seat. Pasiphae thought this was a good time to run.
"Wait," the waitress snapped, anticipating her movements. "You're from the Court, aren't you?"
At least that was better than being accused of being a witch.
"How do you know?" Pasiphae asked.
The girl stretched her arm over and seemed to point at Pasiphae's knee. It took her a moment to realise that the faery was pointing at the dress Pasiphae wore, specifically at a small emblem stitched to the edge, identical to the ones on the royal guard uniforms.
She had never even noticed it.
"You're not meant to leave without explicit permission," the faery continued, "certainly not to visit gambling dens at the edge of Khotadi."
Pasiphae took a sniff at the drink the girl had given her. She hoped she wasn't expected to drink this. "As I said, I'm waiting out the rain."
"You're not just waiting out the rain," the waitress replied, folding her arms. "Very nice avoidance technique though."
The joke was on her. Pasiphae didn't even need to avoid a lie.
"I saw the men run by the window a little after you entered. They're gone now, by the way." The girl laid out her hands flat on the table. "If you can pass on a message for me, maybe I won't report you to the queen for absences within her Court. I'm Isolde."
Pasiphae sat back. "If you can get into Court to report to the queen, surely you can get into Court to pass on your own message." There were other spies in the Court. She wasn't going to involve herself in business other than her own.
Isolde wrinkled her face. "Clearly you don't know how matters work for the lower class. They'll welcome my tattling but I cannot talk to the faery who's second to the captain of the Guard."
"Second to the captain of the Guard?" Now Pasiphae was interested. She sat up. "You should have opened with that."
"You have some plan to climb high in Court?" Isolde asked, lifting a brow. "What are you, a lower noble?"
"Something like that." Pasiphae pursed her lips, pretending to think. "I might be able to pass on a message, provided you owe me a favour."
Isolde's attention was momentarily diverted as someone stepped through the side door and yelled at her to get back to work. She held up a lazy hand to ask them to wait a moment, then turned back to Pasiphae.
"I should think looking over the fact that a palace dweller is in the city is enough of a favour."
Pasiphae half-stood.
"Wait, wait," Isolde relented. "If you can tell Arther Conllivion that Isolde is alive, then I owe you one. Happy?"
"Very," Pasiphae said.
Isolde reached over for the drink that Pasiphae hadn't touched, taking a large gulp. "Then I'm getting back to work. See you in two centuries when you reclaim that favour."
Isolde took the drink with her, finishing the tall glass as she returned to the back of the den.
Another fight was breaking out, one faery biting another as Pasiphae prepared to leave. If Pasiphae hadn't known better, seeing sharp teeth gnawing at a shoulder, she might have thought there were vampires amongst them in Khotadi now.
Pasiphae slipped out the door and up the street stairs, pulling her cloak tightly against the rain.
Thank the stars that vampires had died out centuries ago.
***
Pasiphae got back to the palace with no trouble. She crossed the drawbridge like she had an important place to be, and no guard stopped her or asked what she thought she was doing. Pasiphae was almost disappointed. She thought she would have to lie more than the amount she was currently lying.
With the sky slightly lightened, the night a little less severe, Pasiphae could see that there were still dark, oily stains in the grass. She used her boot to kick at one splotch. The colour was practically dyed into the ground. She wondered what sort of technology and magic mixed together was capable of making a virus that could produce this effect and then vanish so quickly. She wondered if the Somnus used a similar technique.
As she crept around the exterior walls to find the kitchen door, Pasiphae realised that perhaps saying yes to Isolde was a mistake. It would have been simple enough to pass on a message if she was actually the faery she was pretending to be, but inside the Court walls, Pasiphae was a human consort, and in what circumstance could she talk to the guard second to Captain without raising suspicion?
Pasiphae stopped walking, having come upon the door she left from.
It was locked from the inside. How was she going to get back in?
She knocked.
Please don't be a guard. Please don't be a guard.
A human boy around her age opened the door and peered out at Pasiphae. His collar took up half his neck. "What are you doing out there?"
"Just got a little lost," Pasiphae answered, brushing by. It looked like there was a new set of kitchen hands. Deaths, her shift probably already ended. "I was running a surprise errand for the fae, you won't tell anyone and ruin it, will you?"
The boy's eyes widened. He shook his head quickly and sincerely.
"Good," Pasiphae said, keeping her eyes on him as she retreated backwards. "Remember that—"
She bumped up against someone who didn't immediately move. She squeezed her eyes closed, cursing in anticipation.
"Where have you been?"
Pasiphae spun around, relieved. "Oh, it's just you."
Seth nodded at the human boy and marched Pasiphae off by the wrist. Pasiphae jerked in surprise.
"Your shift," Seth hissed, "ended an hour ago." He looked to her throat. "Where's your collar? I had to sign you out to avoid suspicion."
Pasiphae yanked her arm out from his grip, digging into her pocket for the collar. She snapped it back on as they left the kitchens in a hurricane of movement. A few guards startled at Seth's loud and angry strides.
"Will you slow down and relax?" she whispered. "You're drawing attention."
They entered an empty hallway, where Seth stopped, his jaw set tight. "You're not supposed to leave the Court, what were you thinking?"
Pasiphae rocked back on her heels, blinking rapidly. "I didn't realise you were actually my keeper now," she said coldly. "Should I greet you with Sir as the other consorts do too?"
Seth stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I was just—"
"No, listen." Pasiphae mirrored his stance. She was getting tired of being treated like a petulant child. She was tired of being ordered what to do."If this is going to work, we work together." Her voice was the sound of a slow, gas-valve leak. "You stop telling me what to do, you stop locking me in rooms, you stop this act of dragging me around like I'm actually a pet. We're equals or we're done."
Seth took a deep breath. Pasiphae felt his following exhale all along her own lips.
"Okay," he said after a long moment of them staring at one another and neither giving in. "I understand. I was looking for you to talk to Kalis. I'm sorry."
Pasiphae stayed in place, trying to figure out if there was truth in his voice. Finally, she nodded and stepped back, putting more than just an inch between them.
"Take us there, then."