Prince of the Courts

Prince of the Courts - Chapter 7

Rayce opened his eyes slowly.

He was in a darkened room with only moonlight lending a ghostly cast to the walls. He was shirtless, his feet dangling off the bottom of a luxuriously soft, albeit macabre, bed. Blood still stained the duvet that he was laying across and memories came flooding back to him. He hesitantly touched his right side where the Elf-bolt had struck him, and he found folded-up toweling under an unfamiliar weapons belt. Sera.

He sat up gingerly, waiting for his side to pain him, but was pleasantly surprised when it did not. Rayce considered unbuckling the belt and peeling away the impromptu dressing, but figured he might be safer leaving it in place than risking Sera's wrath if he removed it too soon.

His feet sank into plush carpet as he rose slowly and caught sight of his staff leaning up against the wall. The pack that Zeke had prepared was slumped next to it and he felt a tug of curiosity. He leaned down carefully to hook one of the straps and then sat back on the bed, farther away from the mess of dried blood.

He untied the top and pulled out what felt like a fresh set of clothes first, bundled neatly, and set them aside for later once he had had time to clean up. The smell of fruit wafted up and he tilted the bag a bit to shed more light inside. Some very bruised fruit lay squashed in the bottom, and he winced at the memory of being blasted off his feet by the discharge from the Unseelie weapons. A packet of nuts had survived, though, and he idly opened it and tossed a handful in his mouth, finding that they were lightly-flavoured with fruit juice now. He couldn't recall when he had last eaten something. He pulled the last three items out and peered down into the bag. Nothing else. He held a stele, a witchlight stone, and a letter that were all now lightly fruit-flavoured as well.

Zeke had said the letter in his pack would explain their hasty flight, and Rayce eagerly unfolded it, careful not to tear the page where the fruit juice had dried. He brought the witchlight to life and was able to read the slanting scrawl of writing.

Zeke,

I don't know you, and you don't know me, and I have no way to convince you that this isn't some game being played by an idiot Faerie. What we do have in common is Rayce.

I am a Shadowhunter, but not like the ones that you grew up with. The Clave doesn't know I exist, and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as I can.

The short version of the story is that sometimes I have dreams about what may yet come to pass. I know that you'll understand that as 'seeing the future', but that's not how it works. Everyone has free will. Nothing is set.

This letter is a good example of that. I've had a dream that says the Seelie Queen is going to be murdered, and soon. When that happens, Rayce will be free to leave the Court, and it's going to be up to you to make sure that happens. I've seen flashes of what his fate will be if he doesn't get away. If he's captured, he's worse than lost. If he's killed, then I am lost.

There's a tunnel that Rayce once tried to use to escape the Court. That's the path you must take – it will lead him to me, and I can protect him from those who will follow.

The choice is yours now. Whether or not you choose to believe me is what will determine Rayce's future. You can ignore this letter – really, I've seen it as a possibility. But I'm begging you to take a chance on me.

Be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. It will happen swiftly, and you will know in your heart when it does.

I only ask one last thing of you if you choose to help Rayce survive: Send word through my faithful messenger, Kaelie Whitewillow, and tell me what I can say that will stop Rayce from taking my head off when we meet – every time I dream about that meeting without a pass phrase it doesn't end well for me.