"You see, Fane, some people really can trust their friends," she scolded, and I exhaled more loudly than I intended. "It will be a sad day indeed when you take the word of someone like this Hastings fellow over the word of our companions. Now, if that's quite settled, my father mentioned he expected a raid at The Paladin to follow last night's disaster. You'd best warn your men, Captain."

Fane nodded curtly, and I dared to add, "We'd be better served right now by focusing on how to help Pyrite. Unless you want to see him executed."

For a moment, I thought the captain might lunge at me again. He didn't welcome having his loyalty challenged. Instead, he picked his hat off the mantel and stuck it on his head, glaring at everyone except Aunt Roxy. Still, his reaction was reassuring. It told me he'd do what he could to slow down the Territory's march toward justice, perhaps even launch a rescue attempt if Zabriel were yet in Sheness. He remained our ally, however much he might resent us. He strode to the door, but before he disappeared into the street, he tossed a report over his shoulder.

"By the way, the shipment we intercepted was sky iron, from what I could tell. Most of it sank with Dementya's ship, but that's what was in the cargo my men managed to retrieve. There was a foreign transport stamp on all the crates, but it didn't say where it was coming from. That's all I got."

Stepping outside, he violently slammed the door, and I was thankful he was taking out his wrath on an inanimate object.

"Upstairs," Gwyneth muttered, giving my hand a squeeze. "We need privacy."

Gwyneth, Illumina, and I mounted the stairway, leaving a wide-eyed Aunt Roxy behind. Spex was sitting up in bed as we entered the room, watching us with a serene expression that belied his awareness of the troubled dynamic of our group. Who was responsible for him now? He had been Fane and Zabriel's little joke, but now Fane had walked out and Zabriel was in custody. Spex's hazel eyes met mine, the same question on his mind. Not knowing what to say, I took the simple approach and ignored him.

"What are we going to do?" Gwyneth asked, cutting straight to the point. She didn't or wouldn't believe the game was up, that there was no way to help my cousin. "It's for the best Fane is occupied right now, but I don't see any point in us pretending Zabriel's still in the city. The people who have him are smart enough to get him out of here before announcing his arrest. Otherwise, half of Sheness would try to free him."

"There's only one thing we can do." I turned to Illumina, who was already nodding her head, anticipating my decision. "You have to go back to Chrior and bring our aunt to Tairmor. There's no time to waste."

Petite features as hard as diamond, my cousin snatched up her leather travel pack and began to stuff her possessions inside.

"I need to return to my family," Shea inserted from behind us.

I jumped, having nearly forgotten she was there. She stood by the balcony, staring across the street. The sun afforded her still form a strange shine, like she were a mirage instead of flesh and blood.

Gwyneth scowled at her, presumably because this was not an ideal time to desert our ranks, while Illumina looked smug, probably expecting this sort of behavior from a human. Neither of them was aware of the More family's predicament, and there was no real reason to tell them. At the same time, there was a very good reason to keep them in the dark. Shea's history might be all it would take to convince them of her guilt, for she would have derived quite a benefit from the bounty on Zabriel's head. It was far less problematic if I was the only one aware of her background. The truth about Shea was my business, my heart insisted, my personal business.

Truth. What a terrifying word. Why was going back to her family suddenly so urgent? Fane had told her to stay put, and she had stuck with me thus far. Why run off when the worst imaginable had happened, and I was in greater need of her support and friendship than ever? My stomach prickled with uneasiness. We Fae were stereotyped as deceptive and manipulative, yet if you asked us a specific enough question, you would have no grounds to doubt the answer you were given. Humans were not bound by such rules. What answer would I get from Shea if I asked her the question that burned in my gut? And did I know her well enough to discern the truth regardless of her words?

"Right, you should see your family," I responded, brushing aside my qualms like cobwebs, and with about as much success.

I dragged my gaze from Shea's silhouette, aware that Gwyneth's eyes were darting between the two of us, keen to navigate the undercurrent in our exchange.

"I'll go with Illumina to Tairmor," I informed Zabriel's wealthy cohort. "I'll stay there and wait for her and the Queen to join me. I don't know what influence you have over your father and in the capital, but use every ounce of it to keep Zabriel alive. Most of all, keep your ears open. If you hear anything, anything at all, send word to me. There's a woman named Fi who runs the Fae-mily Home in Tairmor. I'll reconnect with her, and you can use her to get a message to me."

"I know the place. But, Anya, I'm not sure going to Tairmor is wise. What if you've earned yourself a wanted poster? You were discovered in that warehouse right alongside Zabriel."

"I'll find a way." Though I had little desire to travel the tunnel system again, it would take me safely into the city. I would do what had to be done.

Gwyneth bobbed her head, then bobbed it again, recognizing her cue to depart but for some reason wanting to disregard it. When her tawny eyes landed pleadingly upon me, seeking some form of reassurance, it came to me that she was scared. She was vibrant, powerful, unstoppable-and afraid of losing my cousin. All I could offer her was a smile, but it seemed to be enough. She headed down the stairs, shoulders straight, her usual guise of confidence firmly back in place.

"Are you sure you should go now?" I asked Shea, undertaking the next bit of unfinished business. "The captain seemed opposed to you leaving, remember?"

"My family's in danger and I've waited long enough. I'm not going to stay here for Fane."

Though her reasoning was plausible enough, she wouldn't meet my eyes, breaking out of her statuesque pose to scurry about the room, gathering her things.

Illumina placidly watched Shea, then fastened the clasp on her travel satchel.

"I'll go see if Aunt Roxy can give us any provisions for the trip," she said, with atypical social sensitivity, and I nodded my thanks.

The moment Illumina disappeared through the doorway, Spex reasserted his presence.

"If you want to be alone, you're going to have to do something about me." He held up his chained hand and tugged a reminder. "You can't keep me forever, despite how much you love me."

"That doesn't mean we have to let you go," Shea retorted. "We could let you starve to death. Or just shoot you. Then again, Roxy might have some use for you-perhaps turn you into a potato peeler in the kitchen."

I smirked. Shea was shameless in her enjoyment of Spex's distress. It took him a bit to notice the smile playing on my lips, but when he did, his entire face scrunched in irritation that she would poke fun of him at such a dire time.

"Think that's funny?" he spat, his anger as laughable as his injured pride. He was like a kitten on the attack-tiny, ferocious, and totally ineffective. Realizing he was getting nowhere with us, he sat back to try a different approach, adopting a more nonchalant attitude.

"I'm way too talented to be kitchen help, and you know it. I'm a spotter, remember? And you don't have the guts to kill me."

"I wouldn't go underestimating our guts," I warned.

Thoughts of the previous night flashed through my mind. I'd watched Zabriel shoot someone in the head and Illumina roast two men alive. And if I had known how to handle a gun, I would have shot Hastings in whatever manner of heart was trapped in his chest. But I had no desire to deal with Spex that way. What I needed was to have him gone, no complications, so that I could be alone with Shea. There were bigger matters at stake, and it was hard to imagine he could make things worse for us than they already were. I strode to the desk, yanked open the top drawer, and withdrew the key that would set Spex free. I set about removing his shackles none too gently, and in one final endeavor to influence him, was none too gentle with my words, either.

"You've hurt everyone I love in the Warckum Territory. You know everything that's happening, and unless I really do kill you, I can't stop you from reporting to Opal or Hastings or whoever will take your information. But you've suffered, too. They've made you suffer, and that's why I can't take your life. Maybe you'll find it in you to be a little grateful for that. Now go out that balcony and disappear."

Spex rubbed his wrist where the shackle had bound him. Almost as though he expected my action to be a trick, he hesitated; then he was out the door, over the railing quicker than any cat, and sprinting down the street.

"I'd better be on my way, too," Shea said, picking up her pack and scanning the cluttered room one last time. I wasn't fooled by her behavior. She couldn't bear to look at me.

"I'm not going to stop you."

Maybe knowing the ending would combat the coward in her and allow her to be honest with me. My heart was pounding and my legs were trembling, though I couldn't have voiced the reason. I already knew. Was I really so averse to hearing the truth out loud?

Nervous, I continued to fill the silence between us. "I mean, I just let Spex walk out of here. If there's anyone I should have done away with, it was him."

"Anya...please."

"Please what?" I shrilly laughed.

I closed my eyes, trying to rein in my wildly surging emotions. I needed to focus, something with which I was experiencing difficulty of late. But this time when I reopened them, I, at least, was calmer. Shea's restless movements had continued, however, and she looked toward the door like she'd missed her opportunity to escape.

"The truth doesn't scare me, Shea. I think I deserve to hear it."

Shea finally looked straight at me, tears brimming and spilling down her cheeks. My stomach lurched at this confirmation of my fears and suspicions. I retreated from her, hands going to my hair, tugging hard to make sure I was actually awake, actually living what felt like a scene from a farcical play.

"I did it for my family," Shea said, taking a meager step toward me. "The price on Zabriel's head was enough to pay my father's debt. Luka promised he'd arrange for us to move back into our house in Tairmor. So I really had no choice. I had to do it, for my sisters, for Maggie and Marissa."

This time she was bold enough to come near, but I stopped her with an outstretched arm, my anger rising and reaching like a living thing, wanting to lash out at her, to strike her, to hurt her.

"Stay away from me."

I couldn't make my breath come normally. I hated her. I hated her so much, and yet there she stood, offering comfort as though she really believed her words, her excuses. I was repulsed. My temples throbbed, my teeth ached from grinding them hard enough to polish rock, and my body heat soared. I felt certain I would explode, my skin unable to contain this much fury. Yet when I spoke, my voice was dangerously subdued.

"You...you killed him."

"No!" Shea exclaimed, her tears starting anew. "I didn't know Hastings would be there, or that he'd-that he'd shoot Zabriel. I didn't know what was happening on Evernook, the evil that was being done there. I never wanted anyone to get hurt."

"How can you say that?" I seethed. "You know they execute murderers and thieves. You've known that from the beginning. You can't sign someone's death warrant and then say you never meant them harm."

Shea didn't have a response; she just floundered there, clenching and unclenching her hands, round cheeks splotched by sorrow, hemmed in by the lies she'd told to me and to herself.

"I don't understand it," I relentlessly continued. "Why did I defend you when I knew in my heart what you'd done? Why didn't I just let Fane go after you? Why should I care about you at all anymore?"

"Fane would have killed me." Shea's voice was small, her eyes downcast, perhaps in acknowledgment that my devotion was stronger than hers.

"Maybe that's what I should do." Contrary to the violence of my words, I collapsed on the corner of one of the beds. "My Realm is ruined. The Queen I love is dying...my wings are gone...the Prince will be executed. Chrior and the Faerie Realm are finished."

Shea was utterly silent-even the sound of her breathing was muted. She had no understanding of the sweeping power of politics, of how her existence with her family would be impacted by whatever happened next in the Realm of the Fae. No one would be immune to the repercussions. We were looking at an interracial catastrophe if the humans executed our Prince, especially with Illumina taking the throne in the aftermath. Zabriel's loss would stir up all the righteous anger the young Queen would need to cultivate the support of a majority of my people for her campaign. Thanks to Shea's initiative, the Mores would have their house back, yes-and two races of people might engage in a bloody, hateful war that would rip our two worlds apart.

"I'm so sorry, Anya. God, I'm so sorry."

I didn't know how long it had been since one of us had spoken, but Shea's words seemed to wake me from a nightmarish maelstrom of thoughts.

"I wish we'd never met," I told her through clenched teeth. "I wish I'd left you behind with your criminal family. I should never have let you get close to me, never have risked the future of my people on our friendship. You're a cheat and a liar, and I was fool enough to trust you, anyway."

"I don't expect you to forgive me."

"Good," I snapped, coming to my feet. "I'm not going to try."

Shea bit her lip hard, nostrils flaring as she tried to stave off more tears. She knew I meant it. I was incapable of lying.

"For what it's worth," she mumbled. "I'll never forgive myself, either. But I'm willing to live with that, for the sake of the people I love."

Seconds passed, but I refused to acknowledge her justification or lend any credence to the idea that she had made a sacrifice. Both notions were repulsive and equally intolerable, and when it looked like she would say something more, I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

"Just go. But travel fast. If Fane finds out you betrayed Zabriel, you'll be dead. And though I'd love to see you suffer for this, I'm not sure that's the punishment you deserve. So leave, before I change my mind."

"Thank you, Anya. I know I don't deserve to walk out of here, so thank you."

She seemed lost for a moment, almost melancholy that this was the way things were ending between us, even though this was the ending she herself had wrought. Then she threw her pack over her shoulder and walked toward the door, wiping her face on her sleeve. Coming abreast of me, she halted, reaching out a hand in a natural way that would once have been welcome, only to let it fall to her side.

"I don't know why you would, but...if you ever want to see me, you can find me in Tairmor."

Shea left the room, but I heard her halt at the top of the stairs, then turn around.

"Anya," she said, tentatively reentering the room. "Roxy... Fane has her keeping track of me. I don't think I can go downstairs."

"That's not my problem." I gazed into her frightened eyes, and though I despised myself for taking pity on her, I added, "I suggest you follow Spex."

Shea nodded, grateful I'd come around to aiding her this one last time, and approached the balcony. I didn't know how she'd manage the drop, nor did I care. If she were too meek to try it, she'd just have to face Roxy. And if she fell and broke her neck, life would carry on just fine without her. When silence once more descended upon the room, I looked over to see that she was gone.

I sat motionless in the aftermath of her departure, my lips quivering as the tension brought on by confrontation left my body. But despite the heavy devastation I felt, I tried to process Shea's actions, rejecting, then embracing, then rejecting her rationale in an endless circle of pain. What hurt the most was the feeling that there were other choices she could have made. She could have confided in me as friends should do. We could have found another way to deal with her father's debt. And she should have respected the trust I had in her. But friendship apparently meant nothing next to family loyalty. Or more likely, friendship meant nothing next to the easy way out.

Remembering that Illumina was waiting downstairs, I shoved anything that was important into my satchel. I didn't want to think anymore. Thinking would weigh me down to the point I'd never be able to get up again, and there were still people counting on me. I had to see Illumina safely to Tairmor, and somehow I had to undo what Shea had done. That was my priority.

Roxy had put together enough food to see us through a few days on the road. Though any attempt at normalcy felt stilted, I managed to thank her for her kindness. I also penned a quick note for her to give to Fane that explained our plans, mentioning nothing about Shea. While we were more or less deserting the captain, even he couldn't have argued we were needed in Sheness. This was his turf, his domain to mobilize, and it was imperative for Illumina to reach Chrior. Zabriel's best hope now lay in the mother, the Queen, he'd for so long strived to forsake.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

BELIEF, STRENGTH, POWER, PERSEVERANCE.

Before leaving Sheness, my cousin and I rented a single dappled gray horse with part of the money we had left. He was a strong-looking animal, and both Illumina and I were lightweight, so we had faith he could carry both of us and our possessions to Tairmor. I assumed she had never ridden before, but she surprised me with her comfort in settling behind the saddle while I took the reins. I supposed her magic, which had a calming effect even on wild animals, prevented her from feeling as vulnerable as I had my first time on horseback. It was also possible someone had given her cursory instruction during her travels, much like the boy in Strong had aided Shea and me. The thought lifted my lips into an actual smile, an expression I thought had abandoned me-that was the sort of experience she ought to be having on her Crossing, which was essentially what this journey meant for her.

Even though travel by horseback would be less efficient, it was a very real possibility that we had been labeled criminals, and we couldn't risk boarding a riverboat. Zabriel would have to last however long it took for help to arrive.

Illumina had never been a fool. Though she asked me no questions, I was sure she had inferred Shea's guilt. I was grateful for her restraint, especially with regard to a human. She did, however, glance at me every so often with extra pensiveness in her stare.

I listened for word of Pyrite in the little towns through which we passed on our way to the capital, but didn't even catch a whisper. I had no means to decide if this was good or bad. On the one hand, were he to be executed, the Governor would likely make it into a similar spectacle to the one we had witnessed with Spex's father. But the law's silence could mean Zabriel was already dead, that he'd never made it off the island, or that he was undergoing Nature knew what manner of interrogation.

One sleepless night along the way, I remembered that Zabriel had been wearing his royal ring on a chain around his neck at the time of his arrest. What might the consequences of that be? His identity might be determined before Queen Ubiqua arrived; he could be accused of robbing or murdering one of the Redwood Fae; the ring could be confiscated without its significance being discovered and be lost to history. Did any of these scenarios make things better or worse? I had no idea. I was perhaps most terrified that the Governor hadn't been told of Zabriel's capture at all-that the Prince of Chrior could be locked away in another research facility, the subject of ghastly experiments, and we might never find a trace of him.

We entered Tairmor via the tunnels I'd taken with Shea, leaving the horse behind at the river station where Shea and I had originally boarded the Nautigull. While there was no need for Illumina to accompany me into the city, she was anxious for news of our cousin, and Tairmor was more likely than any roadside town to have the latest word. This time, passage through the cave system was unremarkable-there were no Sepulchres, and I therefore received no forbidding messages, which was a welcome relief considering the nightmare we were already living. I listed the facets of that nightmare like a mantra, one misfortune for every footfall in the tunnels: Zabriel was gone; Ubiqua was dying; my body was mutilated; Illumina was set to rule; there was a conspiracy against the Fae; Shea, my friend, was a traitor.

Traitor. The term was so foul. It felt good to stamp it across her memory.

It was no small blessing that Illumina had rope in her pack when, after some circling, we spotted the ceiling trap through which Shea and I had first entered the tunnel system. My cousin flew up and pushed it open, disproving my fear that Tom would have restacked the stones that had covered it. After carrying our packs through, she dropped the rope down to me, straining to haul me up beside her. By the time I scrambled through the aperture, we were both laughing through our exhaustion. I wasn't heavy, but neither was she especially strong, and the effort involved in extricating me from the tunnel had put quite a strain on us both.

We sat across from each other, regaining our breath, and a sort of melancholy descended on me. Illumina was pretty when she smiled, but it was an expression she rarely wore. To most in the Faerie Realm, it looked like she'd been born with everything a child could need, but Zabriel and I knew better. The physical scars to match her emotional ones were hidden under the dusty purple tunic she now wore. As I watched the simple joy of a moment spring from Illumina's aspect and settle around her like sunshine, I said what should have been said years ago.

"No one had the right to hurt you when we were growing up, Illumina. I'm sorry no one ever put a stop to it."

The smile that had inspired my declaration faded, replaced by confusion. She gazed at me, and I thought for a moment she might reach out to touch me. Her eyes were green like spring and envy, but they didn't hold their usual wariness. After collecting her thoughts, she found her voice to respond.

"If my childhood had been different, I wouldn't be who I am."

I pondered her words, for her fatalistic tone implied she had no regrets. Still, I thought she had missed my point. She could have been more than she had become; she could have been happier; she could have been content. She could even have made a good successor to the Queen. But I let the matter drop-if I had mentioned these things, she might have felt bad about herself, and that was not my intent.

We hoisted our packs and climbed the staircase to city level, emerging onto the streets in late morning. We spent the next several hours traversing the business districts, looking at posters and pressing people we encountered for news and rumors. Occasionally, someone made mention of the incident at Evernook Island and the reverberations its destruction was causing in Sheness, but we didn't hear one bit of gossip involving William Wolfram Pyrite. We chose to believe this was a good sign, lest we drive ourselves crazy.

As daylight waned, Illumina and I said our goodbyes on the thoroughfare. She didn't have any more time to spare.

"Try to get out of the city as inconspicuously as you can," I advised. "You shouldn't have trouble with your passport. I doubt Hastings even knows who you are."

She smirked and gave a haughty little laugh. "I can handle myself, Anya. You should realize that by now."

"Of course. That's not what I meant. There's just a lot at stake."

"I'll rest a little during the day and fly by night. I'll reach Chrior in no time at all."