were shorter here—only two stories—and the decorative architecture was far less ornate.
“This way.” Brielle cut down a narrow side street, going to a small black door with a single gas lamp flickering weakly to the side. She knocked in a complicated pattern, and the door swung open a few seconds later.
I waited, breath held, as an old Fae blinked out at Brielle. White hair flowed back from her pale face, and her eyes burned a bright, fierce black. They widened.
“Brielle.”
“Maniae, we need the wagon.”
Maniae’s lips tightened, and she nodded. She gestured us inside. “Come.”
We entered her small home, and she led us through to a covered courtyard in the back. On the other side of the space, an alley stretched behind the houses.
Brielle walked briskly to the carriage, as if she’d done this a dozen times before.
“They have a whole secret system worked out,” I whispered to Tarron.
“There is a lot we don’t know about the Unseelie Fae, it seems.”
“Come.” Brielle gestured for us to follow.
The back of the wagon was covered with a huge tarp. Baskets of potatoes sat at the very end, one basket missing to provide an entry into the interior of the wagon.
She gestured to the empty space beneath the tarp. “Get in.”
Tarron climbed in first, followed by Cass. Brielle and I packed in last, crouching behind the baskets of potatoes.
Maniae bustled forward, holding one last basket of potatoes that looked far too big for her. She was about to shove it into the open space through which we’d crawled when I stopped her, holding out a hand.
“How long have you been in the resistance?” I asked.
“Since the beginning and till I die, dearie.” Her black eyes flashed. “I’m not susceptible to the queen’s mind poison.” She spat on the ground, clearly unimpressed. “Now tuck in. I’m driving you to the kitchens.”
Without another word, she shoved the basket in.
I scooted backward into the depths of the wagon, muttering, “Total bad ass.”
“Maniae has smuggled us in and out of the castle since this started,” Brielle said. “We’d be in trouble without her.”
At the front of the carriage, I could hear the clip-clop of hooves and the jingle of a harness. She must be hooking the horse up. Then Maniae urged the animal on.
The carriage rumbled forward, and we crouched, tense.
“How long until we are there?” Tarron whispered.
“Only fifteen minutes.”
“And if we stop before fifteen minutes is up, there’s trouble, correct?” Tarron asked.
“Exactly.”
I tried not to hold my breath as we traveled, but it was impossible. When the carriage stopped abruptly ten minutes later, I stiffened.
Shit.
I caught sight of Brielle making a motion with her hand raised to her lips. It was too dark to see, but it had to be a shhh-ing gesture.
“What have you got here, old woman?” a man’s voice grumbled.
“Potatoes for the castle.”
“Not potato season.”
“They last for months, you dimwit,” Maniae barked.
“I’ll just be having a look, then.”
I stiffened. Shit.
He was coming.
I tilted my head, listening carefully. I could hear only one set of footsteps.
Please let it be only him.
Brielle drew her blade, the slide of metal against leather unmistakable.
I gripped her arm, squeezing and mouthing, “No.”
A fight would cause a scene.
Quickly, I sliced my finger, feeling pain pinch and blood well. I darted forward, pressing myself right up against the middle basket of potatoes.
The guard pulled it out, leaning down to peer into the wagon. I lashed out, swiping my bloody finger across his forehead and imbuing my voice with my magic.
“Ignore that you have seen us. There are only potatoes in this wagon.”
He frowned briefly, his brows drawing together. My heart leapt into my throat, almost choking me.
Then he shoved the basket back in and grumbled, “Just potatoes.”
My shoulders sagged with relief.
“As I told you!” The slightest bit of confusion echoed in Maniae’s voice, but she cracked the reins and the carriage rumbled forward.
My muscles felt like noodles from the relieved tension. With Aeri at risk, everything felt twice as terrifying and risky. I couldn’t be caught before I got to her. I just couldn’t.
Five minutes later, the carriage rolled to a stop. Brielle grabbed my arm, and I stilled.
“Wait,” she breathed, the word barely audible.
The carriage adjusted its position, moving back and forth, finally stopping for good. Several minutes ticked by, each tenser than the last.
Finally, the baskets of potatoes were removed, and Maniae’s face peeked in. “Hurry up now.”
I scrambled out into a tiny dark room full of baskets of vegetables. The wagon had been backed up to it, giving