Chapter 38
Stella is stiff against me, her tiny wrists so thin, so . . . breakable. I try not to think of her at all while I level a grin at the High King, whose interest I’ve finally captured. The challenging thing with this bargain is not giving up exactly what I want, and exactly how much I want it.
In most cases, the High King would rather lose something he wants than give me what I want. Which means that the moment I suggest delaying the conquest of the human lands, he’ll know that is what all of this is about. And he won’t accept anything—just to punish me.
But a favor from the Neverseen King?
He is the only emissary of the High King who could successfully revolt. With his position as gatekeeper of the Bridge, he is in some ways a member of this court, but in more ways, an entirely separate entity who holds in his hands the power to destroy worlds.
More than anyone, the High King dares not lose the loyalty of the Neverseen King.
He knows what a favor is worth.
“You would offer me your favor?” the High King scoffs. “And I suppose you want my kingdom in exchange?”
Stella’s pulse rams against the tips of my fingers. Her hands clench into fists, but she doesn’t struggle. She keeps her upper body rigid against mine, not daring to move with my knife still in place.
“I won’t give you my favor. But I can redeem it—and make him set his monster Crenfyre loose upon the entire human continent to destroy it.”
The High King pauses, and I try not to care. Try not to hope, as the moments slip by, as his consideration lengthens. He cannot deny how compelling my offer is.
But I made a fool of him only a few days ago with my last bargain.
Stella will never forgive me if her people aren’t spared.
She may not forgive me anyway for this knife, and my last-minute changing of the bargain.
“I see,” says the High King at last. “And in exchange for such a favor, you wish for me to delay the conquest of the human lands.”
“Until the day after Lulythinar,” I reply, not allowing my sinking gut to be visible on my face.
He’s not going to accept the bargain.
The High King’s gaze falls to Stella, to the way fear is written over every inch of her body—so unlike when she entered this throne room without flinching, without cowering.
This is why I didn’t tell her every ploy I was considering for this meeting.
I needed her fear. Her true fear. I need her doubts of me written plain across her face.
Plain for the High King to see.
He sets his jaw, turns on his heel, and marches back up the dais. “I’ll consider it.”
He’ll . . . consider it? But there’s hardly any time for consideration; the warriors are to deploy tomorrow. I mask my confusion and the surge of desperation behind another sneering grin.
“I am honored, dear Father. See you at the banquet.” Then I sheathe my knife, let go of Stella’s wrists, and take one of her elbows as I turn on my heel and march toward the doors. She scrambles to keep up beside me, her breathing ragged.
The air shifts.
With a rough yank, I pull Stella to my other side just as a bolt of pure magic slices through where she’d just been. It smashes into the floor, sending blackened chunks of marble flying in every direction. Her eyes widen in my periphery, but I don’t look at her. Neither do I look back at the High King, at his raised palm.
The guards open the door, and I drag Stella through and around the corner. The doors clang shut. Maybe I should be relieved. I’m not.
“Ash?” she demands.
I’m getting her out of here. Before Lulythinar. Clearly, if she has magic, it’s nothing remarkable. If it was, she wouldn’t have been able to hold it in after an episode like that. Earlier, for one glorious moment, I’d thought she could smell lies, which would have been an invaluable asset to her. But then it was only a perfectly timed coughing fit.
If she can’t even smell lies, what is her magic?
I need to give up. All this time, I was so wrapped up in vengeance, in making my father pay for what he’s done. But all this time, I didn’t have anything to lose. Not like I do now.
Now I have everything to lose.
Stella is wrong about me. I will break. I am breaking. It’s enough—the death, the bloodshed, the rebellion, the games. I’ve had enough. I’d rather use my favor from the Neverseen King to set Crenfyre on Faerie—and just watch as that parasite sucks the life out of every breathing creature. Every green plant.
You’d let the parasite take the Small Cities?
I gnash my teeth, hating my own weakness. No, I couldn’t bring myself to allow harm to the Small Cities.
Maybe I should send Stella away . . . and take my own life. I’ll rip my father’s throne from him that way. I’ll let him watch as his empire crumbles to pieces without an heir. And then war will ensue.
Is there any place I can send Stella where she’d be safe from such a war?
My knife is lifted out of its sheath. I whirl, snatching the wrist of—
Stella.
My mind comes to a screeching halt, and I stare blankly at her, at the fire of defiance in her eyes, the set of her jaw, the enormous hilt of my knife in her tiny hand. My grip on her, stopping her.
“Snap out of it,” she growls at me, her gaze narrow.
I merely stare at her, my mind still not caught up. “What?”
“Stop it, Ash. Stop thinking whatever dark and depressing thoughts you’re thinking. We’re both still here. All is not lost. And you have some explaining to do if you still want a shred of my trust.”
Her words strike me like a blade with their sharp simplicity. The fog clears, and she stands there before me like a beacon. A bright light that refuses to go out, that refuses to be cowed.
I can’t let her stay here. Faerieland is too dark for her. She deserves so much more than me, than this. So much more than daily attempts on her life. She deserves more than I can give her. More than I can dream of giving her.
I’m getting her out of here. Perhaps I’ll pay the price with my life. It’ll be fine, so long as she can go on living.
We’re in the middle of an empty hallway beside the statue of the winged archer. No one seems to be nearby, and I sense no presence. Even so, I throw a quick spell around us so that no one will hear what I say.
I release her, and she lets me take my knife and replace it in its scabbard. Then I pause, draw a deep breath, and gently reach three fingers for her face, for the hair I want to brush behind her ear.
I love you.
She steps back abruptly, out of my reach, crossing her arms over her chest. I freeze. The words on the tip of my tongue fall back into my mouth, unspoken.
“Please don’t touch me,” she says.
There’s no vitriol in those words, but they are firm. Unyielding. They pierce me like one of Faradir’s arrows. So soft. So deadly. I drop my hand.
“You betrayed my trust.”
Ah, yes. Yes, I did. Part of me immediately scrambles to apologize, to explain why I couldn’t tell her everything, to describe how my plans changed when I saw Faradir’s expression. But then I look at her, at her crossed arms, and I feel myself closing up. My heart strives to put distance between us. Every kiss I’ve given her was a mistake. Especially today’s kisses. They were indulgences in emotion and affection that I have no business harboring. I knew it at the time, but I kept protecting this hope. This stupid hope I wouldn’t have to give up everything I ever loved.
Everything I love dies. Why can’t I get it into my thick skull?
If I love her, Stella will die.
She can’t stay here.
Because I do love her. I love her, and I will do foolish things because I love her, and my heart will be ripped to shreds when the High King finally gets his hands on her.
If I truly love her, I’ll let her go.
“Yes, I used you like a pawn,” I say coldly, resuming my walk at a pace more manageable for her. “Because I’m trying to save that spineless father of yours.”
“That is not what I am angry about, Ash, and you know it. You said you would tell me what to expect, that you wouldn’t blindside me. But that’s what you did in there. That’s not right.”
“I had to blindside you!” I exclaim in frustration. “You want me to save your people. I had to get Faradir’s attention.”
“Stop putting the blame for this on me! No part of the High King trying to raze my homeland is my fault. It wasn’t my choice to marry you. It wasn’t my choice to be brought to Faerieland. I wasn’t the one who tricked the High King and incited his wrath! From the start, I have submitted to being used as a pawn, first by my father and now by you. But not anymore.” Her eyes flash. “We have a deal. You promised to warn me, so I expect you to abide by that promise.”
I clench my teeth, guilt filling my lungs even as I harden myself to it.
Her voice softens, turns to pleading, and that is the final blow that makes me crumble. “Ash, you’re all I have. I need to be able to trust you. Please understand that.”
It hits me then, the full force of what I’ve done. How right she is, no matter my excuses or my insistence that I had no other choice. Maybe it was my only option. Maybe it wasn’t. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I broke my promise to her. I hang my head as it fills with my own pitiful voice. It’s such an inadequate offering. “I’m sorry, Stella.”
She nods, accepting my apology. She doesn’t take my arm, however, and the space between us is like a cavernous hole in my chest. I need to get used to this. I’ve thought of her as mine, but she’s not. She may be my wife, but she’s not mine to hold, to touch, to kiss, to love.
“Would you please show me Rahk’s quarters?”
The abrupt question startles me back into the present, into the large brown eyes peering up at me. “Yes, of course,” I say, even before her question registers in my mind. Then, when it does, I frown. “Why?”
“In case something happens to you, like when you were poisoned.”
I find myself shaking my head. “Don’t go to him unless you must—unless something is very wrong with me or Edvear. The High King may try to task Rahk with killing you, and he’d be sacrificing his own life to disobey those orders.”
She purses her lips, considering. “I see. I still want to know where his chambers are.”
I draw a deep breath, then veer down the corridor to our right. “It’s near the banquet hall with the other guest chambers for the Nothril Court. Come this way.”
When I steal a glance at her, Stella is carefully noting our surroundings, our path, and seems to pay special attention to the marble waterfall we pass. Maybe in another life, another set of circumstances, she could have survived in Faerieland.
By the time I’ve shown her Rahk’s door and taken her back to my quarters, there’s barely enough time for Edvear to serve Stella a light, un-poisoned meal, and for her to eat it before it’s time to return to the banquet hall.
I steal away to my study for just a few moments and shut the door. I lean against the door, closing my eyes, and let the despair wash over me.
Give up.
Keep fighting.
Give up.
Keep fighting.
A growl rumbling in my throat, I push off the doorframe, march to the desk that Edvear had moved back here while we were gone, and pull out a fresh sheet of parchment. Rahk’s compromised loyalty is going to cost me greatly.
Neverseen King, I write. I’d like to call in my favor.
I pause, my pen suspended in the air a few millimeters above the paper. Then, with a determined set of my jaw, I keep writing.
I want you to give my wife safe passage out of Faerieland to Orawyth.