Ren glanced down at the pockets in question, and when he looked back up again, Maescia was gone. He turned, eyes searching the ruins around him, but there was no sign of the faery or anyone else for that matter.

  Cautiously, he reached into his pockets, feeling for something new.

  He came up empty.

  The only thing in there was the map he’d brought with him.

  Shaking his head, Ren shoved the map back into his pocket and set off again. He should have known it would be a faery trick. Maescia was probably trying to get back at him for refusing to play her games.

  Coming here had been nothing but a waste of time. He was no closer to finding the maker of the potion or a way to reverse it than he had been before. The Summer King may have said he wasn’t the one responsible and that Seraiah would eventually know who was, but that didn’t help Ren now.

  He’d thought his best course of action was to meet up with her, but the more he mulled it over, he decided he’d be better off returning to his original plan to find the other mages. In the meantime, if Seraiah found something useful and needed his help, she could seek him out on her own.

  Ren untied his horse from the tree and swung into the saddle. It was time to return to the Cave of Faces.

  Ren didn't bother with stealth when he walked into the main entrance of the cave. He had the advantage here. If anyone meant him harm, it would be as simple as raising an undead army from the walls as he had done before.

  The journey here had been as long and irritating as it always was. He tugged off the scarf he’d wrapped over his nose and mouth to keep out the sand and took a breath of the cool damp air of the cave.

  A flood of memories washed over him with that one breath.

  Some of those were happy memories of playing in the tunnels with the other magically inclined children, but most of them were not. The scars on his back still ached when he thought of those particular memories. Before he’d moved to his mentor’s cabin, this had been the place he’d called home.

  Ren stepped further into the cave, following the familiar path to the living quarters.

  The first few rooms he checked were empty. Judging by the lack of personal effects, it was likely no one had used these in the first place.

  He worked his way down the hall, but found little of interest. The rooms that had been occupied looked as though they’d been hastily cleared. Anything important or precious to the owner had been grabbed, and the rest of it left behind.

  His own room looked remarkably similar to those that had never been occupied. He’d never had anything important to keep here. A quick sweep was all he needed to tell him no one had entered since the last time he had been here.

  Ren searched the rest of the main living area and found it to be the same as the rooms. The important supplies had been taken, and the rest of it left behind. There was no sign anyone had returned since fleeing.

  Finally, he only had one room left to check.

  Ren pushed the door open slowly, not sure what he was expecting to find.

  Sterling's room was untouched. The sheets were in a rumpled, tangled mess at the foot of the bed. A discarded robe lay in the corner where she had likely kicked it, and a hairbrush with pieces of silver hair still stuck in it lay next to the washbasin. He wasn’t surprised she hadn’t returned to it after she’d been rescued.

  Ren leaned against the door frame and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  He’d had high hopes he’d find something here, and yet it was another dead end. Weeks had been wasted in travel to get here, and he was no closer to finding the other mages. They couldn’t all have fled to the human world. There must be some other place he hadn’t thought of yet.

  Ren pulled his rumpled map out of his pocket and smoothed it against the wall. As he ran his hand over the wrinkled parchment, the familiar detail came into view, but there was one marker that wasn't so familiar.

  An ice crystal had appeared just on the other side of Mt. Tybort, nestled in a valley. He was certain he’d never seen it there before.

  There were two tiny words written beneath the ice crystal: Unseelie Court.

  Another faery court? It seemed Maescia had helped him after all.

  This entire plan hinged on getting her magic to work. Her horribly unreliable magic.

  Wisteria shifted uncomfortably, watching as the camp slowly came to life in the bluish predawn light. It wouldn't be long now until they enacted the plan she and Seraiah's father had hatched the night before.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Nearby, one of the humans added more wood to the fire that had been burning all night, taunting her with a warmth that was just out of her reach. Even with the extra wood, the heat didn't quite reach her.

  Wisteria sighed and wiggled her fingers, trying to get rid of some of the stiffness. She supposed she was lucky it was still summer. The cold could have been much worse. As it was, the damp ground had left an ache in her bones. The minute she got back to the safe house, she was taking a warm bath.

  And she would get both of them back to the safe house . . . as long as her magic behaved.

  It had been decided in whispers that Seraiah's father would create a distraction after leaving camp in the morning. It would need to be something big enough to lure the remaining guards at the camp. This is where the magic came in. Once those guards had gone to see what the disturbance was about, Wisteria would slip her ropes.

  Her specialty was plants. It wasn't a terribly useful skill, and had it been better, she would have been working in her family's herb shop. Unfortunately, she’d discovered at a young age that her magic rarely worked when she tried to call it, making her just about useless in the family business. It was this uselessness that drove her family to send her to work as a servant in the castle.

  As the sun rose, more and more people woke for the day. Wisteria expected to smell the food they would eat for breakfast any minute now, but instead, they left the camp in small groups, followed by a guard or two.

  Apparently, eating was reserved for nighttime only. No wonder they looked like nothing more than skin and bones. She didn't know what kind of work Gavaran had them doing, but they wouldn't last long if he didn't bother to feed them.

  Not that he cared, she was sure. If he ever ran out of humans to do the work for him, he would probably start taking elves.

  When the last group left the camp, Wisteria started counting.

  Not long now, not long at all, and she had to be ready. She hadn't been told what exactly the distraction was, but she knew it would have to involve several of the other humans. It likely wouldn't end well for them, and she wished she could take all of them with her.

  This is a step in the process, she reminded herself. She just had to get back to the safe house and report what was happening to Virelai. Then together, they would figure out some way to save the rest of the humans. As much as it pained her to leave so many behind, there wasn't much of a choice.

  Wisteria reached five hundred and waited, listening for any sign that something was happening.

  Right on cue, a scream rang out through the trees. Shouts followed it. The guards who had been left at camp turned toward the sound, but made no move to investigate.

  Come on, come on, Wisteria thought. Just go look, you stupid fools.

  "Sounds like trouble," one of them commented. "Maybe we should go check it out."

  The others agreed, but there was one individual who didn't want to cooperate.

  "Why do we have to go?" he argued. "If we leave our posts, who do you think is going to get in trouble? I'll tell you who! It will be us." The guard shook his head. "I don't know about you, but I want to keep my head."

  "But if we don't go, and those humans get away, it will still be our heads on the line," one of the others pointed out. "Besides, she," he gestured to where Wisteria was tied up, "isn't going anywhere, and we can take the couple of humans here with us."

  The dissenter scoffed, though now he looked less certain.

  Go, Wisteria urged.

  "If you want to stay here, that's on you, but the rest of us are going."

  "Fine. I'm coming, I'm coming."

  The group of them headed off into the trees, leaving her alone in the camp. Wisteria breathed a sigh of relief.

  Time to work some magic.

  It was truly a stroke of luck that they’d used a rope to secure her and not manacles. All Wisteria had to do was send her magic into the dead fibers and convince them to loosen. Then she could slip free and be on her way.

  Seraiah's father was to loop around and meet her on the edge of the trees. Then they would make their way up the beach to the hole in the wall. It sounded like a solid plan, but it would only work if she could summon enough magic to get free of these ropes.

  Wisteria closed her eyes in concentration, focusing on the feeling of the rope scraping against the delicate skin of her wrists. She reached for her magic, tugging and coaxing it to come to the surface as she’d been taught as a child. Then she pushed the magic toward the fibers, channeling it into them.

  For a moment, the rope remained lifeless, like the dead plant material it was, but then Wisteria felt it stir.

  It was working!

  Now she needed to coax the fibers apart. That would be the difficult part.

  Wisteria could already feel her magic ebbing. No, no, no, she thought, a little more and then you’re done.

  She pushed the magic to sink further into the fibers, and when she was satisfied it was deep enough, she yanked it back.

  Immediately, she felt the rope loosen. She flexed her wrists, checking to see if it was enough. It wasn't.

  Again. One more time should do it, but she had to hurry.

  Every second ticking by was a chance she could be caught. She had to be out of the rope and well away from here by the time the guards returned. She couldn't risk them following her and leading them to the hole in the wall.

  Reaching for her magic again, Wisteria repeated the same process. It would have to be good enough because she didn't have enough left in her for a third try.

  She pulled on the rope, wincing as it scraped over the already raw spots on her wrists. If she twisted just so . . .

  Her right hand slipped free, leaving the rope to dangle from her left.

  The guards were still gone, dealing with whatever chaos the humans had created.

  Wisteria stood, using the wooden pole to steady herself as spots danced in front of her eyes. She needed to eat something, but there was no time for that now.

  When the dizziness subsided, Wisteria headed for the tree line in the opposite direction the guards had gone. She wanted nothing more than to run out of there as fast as she could, but she forced herself to walk, trying her best not to disturb any of the underbrush. There could be no trail left behind for anyone to follow.

  It only took a few minutes for her to reach the edge of the trees where she’d entered less than twenty-four hours ago. Waves crashed on the beach nearby, but Seraiah's father was nowhere to be found. Wisteria had warned him the night before that she couldn't wait for more than a few minutes. If he didn't turn up soon, she would be forced to leave him behind, and he couldn't make it on his own. She’d been careful not to share the secret of how to get inside Nyrene, in case he was caught and tortured for information.

  Wisteria decided she would count to three hundred, and then she would have to leave.