by Lexi Ryan
“Abriella, you’re looking lovely,” the king says. He’s dressed in all black today—from his pants to his crisp tunic to the velvet robe draped across his shoulders. Even his fingernails have been painted black. Three sentries stand on either side of him, forked tongues darting out every so often, as if they can taste danger in the air.
I lift my chin even as nausea grips me. I refuse to show weakness in front of this male—though in honesty I’d find some enjoyment in vomiting on the king. “I’ve had your mirror for a week. I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.”
“Nor I,” he says, his tone bored. “And it took you longer than I expected. My spies tell me you ultimately asked the golden prince for it. That’s so clever. I only wish they’d been able to see what payment he required for that favor. I certainly hope he made the most of it.”
Nausea is replaced by anger in a flash, and cracks of darkness web out from my fingertips on the marble floor. The king’s sentries reach for their swords, and I spare a glance at the endless depths revealed in the crumbling marble.
Whatever this power of mine is, it blossoms in the Unseelie palace.
“Well now.” The king’s eyes darken, and his nostrils flare as he looks at the mess I’ve made. “I see you haven’t learned to control your magic yet.”
I haven’t even learned what it can do yet, apparently. I certainly didn’t know I could do this. But I make a fist and concentrate on winding the power back into myself. I imagine it coiled in my gut, not dormant, but like a powerful snake—alert and ready to strike.
The king scans my face. “What I wouldn’t give for such a gift.”
I don’t care what he thinks about my powers, and I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to. It’s not the court I object to, but Mordeus. The way he looks at me—as if he wants to climb inside my brain and take a look around. It makes my skin crawl. I push myself off the floor and straighten my shift as best I can. “Let me see my sister.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Let me see her, and I’ll give you the mirror.”
“As you’ve already discovered, you can see your sister in the mirror,” he says.
I don’t even want to know how he knows that. Images of his spies watching me in my chambers flash through my mind and make me shiver. But no. Surely he’s just guessing. “That’s not good enough.”
He shrugs. “It will have to be. It’s all I can offer. Have you enjoyed that this past week? Having the image of whatever you ask at your fingertips?”
I shake my head. “I want to see her. In person.” It’s been too long, and her absence is a constant awareness at the back of my mind.
“Have a seat.” Mordeus waves and a decanter filled with dark red liquid appears in his hand. “Let’s drink to your success.”
Drink faerie wine. Hard pass. “No, thank you.”
“I insist.” He pours two glasses and nods to the empty chair beside him. “We drink, and then I will tell you of the next relic I need you to retrieve so that you may see your sister in person all the sooner.”
Games. He’s playing games with me. Clinging to the last of my patience only because I have no choice, I enter the room and sit. When he passes me a glass, I accept it, hoping to speed him along.
Mordeus lifts his glass. “To power,” he says. I arch a brow, and he pauses with the glass halfway to his lips. “No?”
“In my world, power means the ability to cheat someone out of their life, their choices, and their free will.” His piercing gray stare burns into me, and I feel like he sees too much. I roll the glass between my hands and study the liquid. “I don’t care to toast to power.”
“To what would you like to toast?”
I meet his gaze and let the silence hang heavily for a beat before I raise my glass. “To promises kept and delivered.”
“Ah, yes. Your concern is still your sister.” He nods. “I will toast to that, as I look forward to you delivering on yours.” His smile sends an uneasy chill up my spine as he taps his glass to mine.
I watch him drink and sit with my wine untouched for several long minutes before he releases an exasperated sigh. “We won’t be discussing the information you’re waiting for until you drink, girl.”
I want to argue, but what’s the point? Everything’s about power to this male, who’s stolen most of his. He will not stand for even this small defiance. I take the smallest sip possible. The wine is sweet and velvety, and it spreads warmth through my chest. “The second relic?” I prompt.
He smirks. “Such a taskmaster you are. Don’t you want to enjoy your wine for a moment?”
I glare at him. Hard.
Mordeus leans back in his chair. “The second relic is called the Grimoricon, and it will be much trickier to retrieve than the mirror.”
Of course it will. I can’t expect Sebastian to hand over everything I need to get my sister back. Though I’m beginning to believe he would—for me, for Jas. If only telling him wouldn’t void my bargain with Mordeus. “What is the Grimoricon?”
“You may know it as the Great Book. It’s the sacred text of Faerie, and it contains the earliest spells and magic from the Old Ones.”
“A book?”
He takes another swallow of his wine. “Of sorts. Something that powerful cannot be contained by pages alone, so like all the greatest magical texts, it can change its shape and appearance.”
“Into what?” I don’t feel any ill effects from my sip of wine, so I brave another. It is truly delicious. Besides, if he wants me to retrieve this book, drugging me senseless won’t help.
“Into anything, my girl. It can and will turn itself into anything if it senses danger.”
A book that senses danger and changes form. Looks like we started out with the easiest of the relics. “Where is it?”
“That I cannot answer. The Seelie Court stole it during the war and has guarded it since, though it belongs to my court and its magic cannot be used by the golden fae.”
“Then why did they steal it?”
He takes another sip and stares off into space, as if flipping through millennia of memories to find the answer. “The same reason they’ve taken everything else. To weaken us.”
“You’re saying you want me to find a book that could be anywhere in the Seelie Court and that could look like anything?” It’s worse than a needle in a haystack. At least when you come across the needle, you know you’ve found what you’re looking for. I could be sleeping next to the Grimoricon each night and never know it.
“I’ll let you keep the mirror,” he says, his gaze dropping to my lap, where I’m clutching the mirror in a white-knuckled hand.
Every time I thought about losing the mirror—my only connection to Jas—I pushed the thought away, unable to consider it. Now, knowing I’ll be able to check in on her, my shoulders sag.
“Good luck.”
* * *
Mordeus’s goblin whisks me away from the Unseelie palace and back to the gardens surrounding the queen’s castle.
“Why could you get me from my rooms, but you can’t return me to them?” I ask him, fighting the nausea that goblin travel brings.
“Because you have a visitor in your chambers,” the goblin says, “and I’m not interested in losing my head today.”
“But how do you know that?” I ask.
The goblin gives me a wide grin, showing all his yellow, pointed teeth, then disappears.
It seemed as if I was at the Unseelie Court for only a few hours, but the sun is already high in the sky. The gardens are bustling with staff tending to the flowers, and the smells of lavender and roses call to me as I walk toward the palace entrance. It’s so tempting to take a seat here, maybe close my eyes, let the sun warm my face and the sound of the birds lull me to sleep. But I resist. If there’s truly someone in my chambers, I want to know who it is.
“He’s been waiting there all morning,” a syrupy sweet voice says behind me. “The prince might be suspicious if you s
how up in your pajamas.” I turn to see “Eurelody” motioning me toward a carriage. “I’ve already sent word to your maids that you’re training with me all day.”
I grimace. “I’m too tired to train.”
“And my ears are too pretty to listen to whining, yet here we are. Come on.”
I don’t argue—not when she’s right about the pajamas. But when we get to the house, we walk into mass chaos.
“Get out of my way, Tynan,” Jalek barks.
“No.”
“You’re being ridiculous. I’m going on patrol, not—”
“First of all, I don’t believe you,” Tynan says. “Second, it doesn’t matter where you think you’re going. You’re safest if you stay here.”
Pretha pulls me in the door and out of the way of the ruckus. It’s not uncommon for this group to fight, but this isn’t their typical bickering. Jalek is dressed in his leathers, his broadsword strapped across his back. He glares at Tynan, whose silver facial webbing glows with his emotions. Finn stands between them, legs wide as he looks from one friend to the other.
“Please, Jalek,” Tynan says, whispering now. “Be sensible.”
“It was a dream,” Jalek says. He folds his arms and looks to Finn. “Please explain that I cannot be expected to sit in my room in perpetuity just because I had a nightmare.”
“It wasn’t just a nightmare. I heard her.” Tynan nearly vibrates with frustration. “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t wake up to the Banshee sitting on your chest. Look me in the eye and tell me you are no more nervous about going out that door than you would be any other day.”
“You don’t have to go, Jalek,” Finn says. “I’ll send Kane.”
“Kane needs a break,” Jalek says. “He was out half the night protecting the new portal.”
“What’s the Banshee?” I ask, and three heads turn to me.
Jalek glowers at Tynan. “It’s nonsense.”
“She’s a woman who comes in your sleep and sits on your chest,” Tynan says. “She appears both in this world and in your dream and—”
“A woman?” I ask.
“A spirit,” Pretha says, sighing. “When she visits you, she sits on your chest and says your name over and over. It’s considered a sign that your death is coming.”
“It’s a wonder that anyone ever dies if she warns them,” Jalek says. But I can see the worry in his eyes. Maybe he doesn’t want to believe the Banshee’s call, but he’s shaken.
“It’s too close to the solstice,” Tynan says, swallowing.
“That’s exactly why I want to go,” Jalek says. “She’s weakest tonight.”
“See! I knew you were lying,” Tynan growls.
“I’m sending Kane,” Finn says. “It’s not worth the risk.”
Jalek’s jaw hardens. “Stop trying to coddle me. I’m not a child. I can make my own decisions.”
“You are part of this group, and you’ve sworn fealty to me. It is decided,” Finn says. His voice is so low I can barely hear his words, but the command in it is undeniable.
Pretha grabs my hand. “Let’s get you changed and back to the castle. The prince grows impatient.”
“If you just wanted me to change, why didn’t we just do it in the carriage?” I ask.
“Forgive Pretha,” Finn says, watching Jalek storm up the stairs. “She didn’t realize it was going to be civil war in our home today. But it would be best if you’d go. Jalek’s mood won’t improve until after the sun sets on summer solstice.”
* * *
My door is indeed ajar when I return to my rooms at the Golden Palace.
I press one palm against my satchel—the mirror still safely tucked inside—and the other to my thigh where my knife is strapped. “Hello?” I call, stepping inside.
Sebastian spots me and springs off the chair, crossing to me in three long strides. “Where have you been?”
I swallow and toss the satchel on the bed. “I was training with Eurelody.”
“I came before breakfast, and you were already gone.”
“She . . . wanted an early start.”
He winces, and I wonder if he knows I’m lying. “I thought you might have decided to return to the mortal realm.”
I press a hand to his heart and feel it racing beneath my palm. He’s warm and strong, and I miss confiding in him, miss feeling like Sebastian’s goodness was something I deserved. If only there were a way around these lies. My heart burns with hatred for the shadow king—for what he’s done to my sister and my life. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
Sebastian cups my jaw in one big palm and studies my face. “You’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
He lowers his mouth to mine—a gentle sweep of his lips that quickly turns searching and intense. My breath leaves me in a rush, and I can’t be bothered to find it again. It’s the first time we’ve kissed since I discovered his true identity, and it’s fierce. I feel every bit of his worry and terror in that kiss, feel it all the way down to my bones. Maybe I should pull away. Maybe I should tell him he has no right to kiss me. Maybe I should still be angry with him for lying to me for two years. But the truth is, his kiss is a balm to my loneliness and fear.
The heat and breadth of him make something inside of me cut loose. I’m safe here in his arms. As long as he’s close, no one can hurt me, and I can’t hurt him. If we never end this kiss, he’ll never have to know I used him, lied to him, betrayed him.
His mouth softens against mine, and his hand slips from my hair to my neck, one big thumb stroking along my jaw as his other hand goes to my waist and pulls me tightly against him. I press closer. He groans in approval, and I smile against his mouth, feeling powerful and loving it. I need to feel every inch of his strength, want to memorize every ragged breath he takes.
I don’t know how long we kiss, but it’s not long enough. He’s the one who pulls away. He leans his forehead against mine and we’re both left gasping for air. I look down to the hand at my waist, where he’s bunched my skirt into his fist, exposing my thighs and the knife. If Sebastian notices, he doesn’t say.
Blowing out a breath, he opens his hand and steps back. “Sorry.” He drags a hand over his face, closes his eyes, and curses softly. “I didn’t come here to seduce you. I came to invite you to tonight’s Litha celebration.”
A celebration, meaning more gowns and dancing and pretending I have nothing better to do than watch other girls flirt with Sebastian. Girls who don’t already know how they’ll lose him. “I think you know which of those options tempts me more.” I extend a tentative hand, brushing a finger along his knuckles. “You don’t need to apologize for kissing me.”
His lips twist into a lopsided smile. “I don’t?”
“I kissed you back.”
“I know, but . . .” He blows out another breath and puts another step between us, as if he doesn’t trust himself. “Everything’s gotten so complicated.”
I can’t argue with that. And yet . . . “Why do you say that?”
“That first night I saw you in the gardens, I was so happy. I knew you were here for Jas, and yet . . .” He swallows. “Just seeing you on my lands was more than I ever imagined. Then, when you ran from me, I realized I needed to give up whatever hope I felt in that moment. You hated my kind too much—and right then you hated me too.”
“I didn’t hate you,” I whisper. “I was shocked and hurt. Maybe I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t.”
He swallows hard and backs away. Just one more step, but it feels like a mile. “When you said you wanted to stay here, I couldn’t let go of the hope that you might change your mind. And every day I see you here in my palace with my people, it’s harder to ignore.”
I close the distance between us and take his hand, unwilling to accept what he’s trying to say, even if I need to.
He toys with my fingers. “I know you never wanted to be my bride. I know that’s not what keeps you here. When you were missing this morning, it was a painfu
l reminder that you’ve always intended this stay to be temporary—a means to an end. But I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. You’re the one who’s always made me laugh. You’re the one who makes me feel like I can still be me without letting my duty to my crown swallow me whole. And yet that same duty might require losing you.”
My gut twists with guilt. Does he know something? Does he suspect that I am stealing from his kingdom? “How . . . why would you say that?”
“My mother is pressuring me to choose my bride,” he says, his eyes downcast, as if he’s confessing something shameful. “She informed me last night that I have until the next new moon to make my decision.”
“That’s just over three weeks away.” My chest aches. It hurts to take a full breath. He’ll be choosing a bride, and while I should be focused on what this means for my access to the castle, jealousy burns a hole in my gut and demands my attention. “Why so soon?”
“She wants me to have a queen. Someone who can support me. Ruling . . .” He shifts his gaze to the window, staring out across the gardens. “It gets lonely. And she wants me to have a partner before she begins to transition her power.”
“Have you made a choice?” I don’t really want to know. I have no right to feel anything about Sebastian’s future bride, yet this jealousy feels as if it might tear me apart from the inside.
Finally he lifts his head and meets my eyes again. “I tell myself it doesn’t matter. Among the nobility, marriages are more often about power and alliances than about love. But then I think about you leaving and . . . Brie, if there is any chance that you could be happy living here, that’s what I want. I want you as my queen.”
I feel like the room is closing in around me. I can’t imagine what that life would look like—life as a princess of a kingdom that imprisons people fleeing a hostile land. But if Sebastian and I ruled, we would change all that.
Could I possibly be a force for good in this world? Not just another queen never wanting for anything and ruling over others, but a queen of change? But no. That’s not even a choice. When Sebastian knows the truth, he won’t want me anymore. Lark’s vision assured me of that.
