paper, the corner of the envelope embossed with a golden seal of an upraised left hand.
I slit the envelope and quickly scanned it. It was an official summons to the Seelie Palace, where Robin Goodfellow and I would present our evidence and testimony against Prince Brightkin the Third.
I swallowed hard. That was quick. Maybe Queen Titania was furious that I’d made such a botch job of catching her son red-handed.
I found my phone in the tattered remains of my clothes. Amazingly, it had survived the journey through the Undercity with nothing but scratched glass to show for it.
I hesitated before hitting dial on Robin’s number. He answered on the first ring, his voice still husky with tiredness and pain. “Miss Appletree?”
“Hi.” I scooted back on my bed, careful of my feet and clutching the letter.
There was a beat of silence. “Hi,” he said.
“Did you send the official summons? What’s going on over there?” Why was my throat so damn tight? Who cared if the Queen was upset? Better that everyone know Brightkin was a complete bastard, than let him get away clean for the sake of keeping it quiet.
I heard the rustle of papers in the background. “I sent it. The Queen is determined to get this over with quickly, before Brightkin’s lawyers have a chance to put together a reasonable case for his innocence.”
I snorted in disdain. “How would that even be possible? We saw it with our own eyes.”
“You’d be amazed.” Robin’s tone was dry. That was a good sign. “Are you ready for it?”
“I guess so…” I looked at the paper again. “Blessed Branches, it’s tomorrow!”
A noise that was awfully close to a snort came over the line. “Yes, Miss Appletree. I’ll expect you here at the crack of dawn so we can go over the necessaries. If it makes you feel better, it won’t be a large jury.”
I licked my dry lips. Better to do it while the memories were still fresh, I supposed. “What if I come over tonight? It’s a lot of information.”
Another pause.
The stone that had dropped into my stomach in Carabosse’s house didn’t seem to have left; if anything, it felt even heavier.
“You should take tonight to rest,” Robin said gently. “You should… consider your other options.”
“What other options?” My lungs were tight. Too tight. It was hard to breathe.
I scrambled up and cracked the window open. A warm breeze flowed in, calming my nerves.
“The kind of options that don’t leave you battered after running through the Undercity.”
I wasn’t imagining the acid bitterness in his tone. “Well, the thing is, I’ve already considered those options, and I’ve decided that they sound like complete shit.”
Robin exhaled. “Briallen, I was useless to you. Silke could’ve chosen you instead, and there would’ve been no coming back from that.”
“Sounds like you should start sneaking Faebane in my coffee,” I said blithely. “And maybe fill me in on how exactly you knew Silke.”
The next silence lasted even longer than the first two.
“She was one of my agents,” he finally said. “One of my own trainees. She was sentenced to a life-debt by the Queen when she was caught taking bribes from evanesce smugglers. I was… the one who turned her in.”
I bit my lower lip. “Why was she so loyal to Brightkin, even knowing what he was doing?”
It was easy to picture Robin dragging a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Her life-debt was given to him as punishment. Her entire existence was tied to his. If Brightkin had died on her watch, Silke’s life would’ve been ended as well. Where he went, she went. I imagine in this case, she planned on sneaking out of Avilion when Brightkin made his final bid for freedom. She never would’ve been able to return, but a life of freedom outside Avilion probably sounded better than a lifetime of debt within.”
I felt a slight pang of pity for Silke, who was probably still rotting on my tree down in the depths of the Undercity. I couldn’t imagine being punished to guard a spoiled prince for the rest of my life, always constrained by what he did.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” I finally said. Robin had probably been briefed on all the deaths by now.
He surprised me. “I’m not. I’d rather have you here and alive.”
I looked at my hand. My torn-up nails looked even worse against the unblemished creamy parchment of the letter. “So, boss. Are we good here? I’m not going anywhere. Especially since I owe you another