Isellta held on to Jay until the fear and the panic died down.
Isellta sniffled and nodded his head.
“You poor kid.” He released him. “Isellta. Look at me.”
The fey obeyed.
“I understand your fears for me, but if you see a chance to escape—-”
“You don’t understand. I can’t. That man…Mark Caten…He had his people suppress my ability to teleport. I want that ability back. But he won’t just return it to me. I’m certain of it.”
“What are you going to do? Kill him?”
Isellta sat back on his feet. “Is that the only way to get it back? Can’t I go to them and demand that they fix me?”
Jay sighed. “He has those people smashed under his thumb. They won’t do anything without his say so.”
Isellta tilted his head. He could see two parallel lines inside his head, but no way to make them meet.
Not unless there were two of me.
Oh! “There are other fey here. Can I trust them to help me?”
Jay shook his head. “They all worship Queen Preyuna the lovely and fair fey blah blah blah. Why? What did you have in mind?”
Isellta didn’t answer. He stood and transformed into Mark Caten. “Hello, Jay.” He smiled, but it sure felt like a smirk. “Having a nice, leisurely morning?”
Jay rose to his feet. He grabbed him by the front of his Armani suit coat and punched him. “That’s for telling me I can’t go with Maelin.”
Mark Caten blinked rapidly. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that reaction.” He turned back into Isellta.
“Oh, shoot!” He released him and gently touched Isellta’s face. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you. I was—”
Isellta flapped his wings.
“What? What are you all happy about?”
“I think my plan will work.”
Jay walked to Mark Caten’s office. For the first time in a long time, he was grateful for the mask he had to wear.
No one would be able to see the worry on his face.
It’s a good plan.
I’ll grant him that.
But I have a bad feeling that something is going to go wrong.
Jay entered Mark’s office.
Mark Caten scoffed. “Are you all done powdering your face, Princess?” He flipped open his newspaper. “Took you long enough.”
Jay bit his lower lip and fetched his spiked club from the coat closet in the corner. He assumed his usual position by the door.
I can write this all down in my journal later. Which reminds me. I need to thank Maelin for getting that for me. Writing in that journal is the only reason why I’m still sane. I’m sure of it.
I hope Isellta’s plan works.
But what could go wrong?