Now it’s time for step two.
He goes first. Just in case his plan fails and this all goes south, Rys insists that he take the portal first. He doesn’t get any argument out of me. I watch him disappear into the portal, count to ten, then walk through it after him.
Step two? We pulled that one off, too.
I’m honestly kind of surprised. When Rys told me our escape hinged on us waltzing right out of the oubliette, then strolling through the prison’s back halls to make it to Siúcra’s gates, I never thought it would work.
And here we are. No cells, but from the narrow straits, the same stony floor, the wooden doors, and the dim fairy lights hanging high over our heads, we’re definitely still inside of the prison.
“What do we do now?” I whisper.
Rys peers down the hall we’re in. It’s kind of dark—since these are the back halls—but only for a moment longer. His faerie fire might not have followed us through the portal. Now that we’ve gone from the oubliette to the back halls, he creates another, even brighter fireball in the palm of his hand.
He points. “We go that way. It’ll take us to the gate and then there’s only one thing left for us to do. Come on, Leannán.”
Rys starts to head in that direction. I go because, well, what else am I going to do?
That doesn’t stop me from having seconds thoughts. And this might be the worst possible time to ask this, but… “How can you be so sure that this is going to work?”
“Remember how I told you that I had an agreement with one of the guards?”
> “To put you in the oubliette?” I still think he’s crazy for it, though there’s no denying there was a kind of method to his madness. “Yes.”
“This particular hall won’t be checked unless the guards have a reason to come this way. For the moment, they don’t. Our path is clear. He’s made sure of it, Leannán. Let’s not waste his effort.”
“This guard… he’s helping you escape?”
Rys thinks about it for a second, then nods. “You can put it that way, yes.”
“So… he’s like your friend.”
The flickering flames dancing across his face do little to hide his startled expression. “My what?”
“Your friend. You know. Like your buddy. A pal.”
Understanding dawns. “Ah, I see. No. He owes me a favor. Since I’ve gone from guard to prisoner, I’ve called it in.”
Ah, jeez. I know this is Faerie and all, but I really hope that his faith in the other guard isn’t based on something so flimsy as he owes Rys a favor.
“Um… you can trust him because of that?”
Rys lifts up his palm, the fire throwing his face in sharp relief. “If there’s one thing you learn from me, it’s this: in Faerie, trust no one.”
There’s such a note of finality to his tone, it stops me dead in my tracks. I’m suddenly reminded of the other day right before he began to dance with me.
With this, I can trust you...
He didn’t say that he trusted me. And if he doesn’t trust me, and I’m not supposed to trust anyone, then—
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You said not to trust anyone. What about you?”
Rys firms his jaw. His scar tightens. “I give you my word. I will never hurt you.”
“That’s not the same as saying that I can trust you.”