Chapter 40
She left. She left. She left.
And I can’t go after her. Not if this idea is going to work. Not if we’re to have any hope that the High King will accept my bargain. The idea occurred to me after I sat down—a way to angle this situation.
It was a good thing Stella refused my order to sit in that chair. She would have been fine; I was prepared for the High King’s retaliation. Nevertheless, it was shortsighted and, frankly, stupid.
But this could work in our favor. My apparent indifference toward her. The High King could be tempted to accept my bargain because he senses an opportunity to take Stella from me, which would remove my bargaining chip out of the equation. He wouldn’t feel the need to raze the human world so quickly.
But then she left.
How could she be so stupid? She’s going to Rahk. Why else would she have asked me for directions to his room earlier? Rahk isn’t to be trusted now that the High King is using him. And it doesn’t matter that his quarters are so close—it only takes a minute of her being unguarded and stumbling across the wrong person before it’s too late.
I try to keep from crushing my fork in my fist. I need to maintain my composure.
It doesn’t help that the High King seated Princess Oleria next to me. It’s becoming apparent he reads me better than I once thought. Of all the women he tried to get me to marry over the years, she was the only one that I didn’t despise.
Princess Oleria isn’t a fool. I’ve always thought her a breath of fresh air among an army of pretentious, preening peacocks. It was a relief when the High King gave up trying to convince me to marry her. A relief, because I could have liked her.
He apparently hasn’t given up.
Why did Stella have to leave?
I force myself not to shoot to my feet, not to chase after her. Find her, Rahk. Keep her safe. Don’t let anyone hurt her. And don’t you dare hurt her, either.
“I hear the air is different in the human lands,” says Oleria beside me. “Are the rumors true?”
I take one bite, chew, swallow. It lands like a rock in my gut. “They’re very true. It’s much more taxing to use magic in the human realm.”
“It’s why we need to purge humanity from us once and for all,” says the High King, taking a long, languid sip of his drink. “The ground must lie fallow for a time to get rid of that constant cycle of death.”
Oleria grins prettily, leaning forward a little. “How interesting! Prince Trenian, would you care to explain something for me, then?”
I take a great draught of wine, sigh, set it down. I turn over a few more sarcastic responses, only to discard them when they’re all lies. “Ask away.”
“Then why have we been slowly expanding our borders?”
The High King doesn’t interject, feigning interest in his food. His attention, however, burns into me. He wonders what explanation I’ll give. I give her a crooked grin, lifting one brow. “Something about how smaller amounts of death are more easily absorbed by the magic in our air than an entire continent of death. My illustrious father would know more on the subject than me.”
Bring up the bargain, I want to snarl at him. Give me your answer.
His answer is the one thing keeping me nailed to this chair. If I get up and go after Stella, he’ll answer a firm no. So I must stay, despite how sick I feel. She would want me to get this answer more than anything.
She’d die for her people.
I hate this.
Oleria says nothing for a few moments, as though waiting for the High King to offer a more detailed explanation. None is given. So she merely smiles and continues eating.
She doesn’t like the High King either.
When she turns to me again, one eyebrow is arched in a mischievous line, even as she keeps a serious expression. “I haven’t had time to offer my condolences for your poisoning. Or that of your wife’s. You both are looking well today, however.”
I wave a hand, forcing a chuckle. “I’m quite certain no condolences are necessary. It was but a minor inconvenience.”
A minor inconvenience when I was poisoned.
Devastation when it seemed Stella wasn’t going to make it.
I barely keep my fingers from twitching in the barest tremble. She could be dead right now. Stupid, stupid girl.
Not that I can blame her. I try to forget the pain that flashed across her face when I told her to stand by the servants. It’s impossible.
She left because of what I did. What I said.
Has she realized yet that deep down, I’m nothing but a monster? A monster who will destroy her once I’m through destroying everything else? I’m no prince. No kind husband. I don’t blame her for leaving, and yet I desperately wish she hadn’t. I wish I could have her trust, despite not earning it.
“Prince Trenian,” says the High King.
My eyes flick up to his. Just in that moment, Oleria’s hand brushes mine under the table. I keep myself rigid, not responding to her touch, not giving any outward indication of it as I await the High King’s words.
“I’ve considered your bargain.”
Oleria’s fingers slide into mine. Warm, soft, much larger than Stella’s. They thrum with that electrifying pulse of magic. But there’s something in her hand. Something that she presses into my palm. I close my fingers around hers, and if any of the human servants see and word gets back to the High King, this will seem nothing but a clandestine moment. Rumors could start that Oleria and I have secretly loved each other for centuries, but because of the High King, we dared not be together. The human bride is nothing but a pawn in my games. A mere tool in this larger dance of love and immortality.
I accept the tiny, folded piece of paper and slip it into my sleeve. All while not taking my eyes off the High King. He doesn’t look at me, occupying himself with the golden swirl in his goblet.
“You redeeming your favor from the Neverseen King in the manner that you described—letting Crenfyre loose on the human continent—in exchange for my delay of the conquest until after Lulythinar.”
He stops, trailing off into silence as he takes several more bites of food. Purposefully torturing me. I lean further back in my chair, grabbing my goblet and taking a few stupidly small sips.
He sets down his cutlery. Plants both his hands on his armrests. And smiles at me.
“I’ve decided to accept your bargain.”
Accept? There’s a catch. He wouldn’t accept this, despite how it benefits him. Unless he feels threatened that I might use the favor in other ways.
My fingertips buzz as I set down my goblet. “Wonderful. I shall begin discussions with the Neverseen King.”
And with that, I shove back my chair, swing my knee off the armrest, get to my feet, and march out of the banquet hall. The moment the doors swing shut behind me, I break into a run.
Where are you, Stella? Where did you go? Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.
Please.
I catch a whiff of her scent immediately and follow the trail to Rahk’s room. My heart lurches with hope. I pound on the door with the side of my fist, not even bothering with our code.
The door swings open. It’s not one of Rahk’s attendants, but Rahk himself. Shirtless, with a dark glare.
“Where is Stella?” I demand, shoving him aside, searching for any sign of her. “Stella!”
“She’s not here,” Rahk replies, already in motion. He scoops up two scabbards—his swords—and buckles them over his back. Glamoured boots and a shirt appear before he hurries after me outside the room. He sniffs in the doorway, his eyes darkening. “She was here. So was someone else.”
We share a look of pure horror.
Then Rahk takes the lead, catching her scent faster than I can. My lungs clench with dread. So much dread. We run down the hallway, turn left—the opposite direction from anywhere she should have been going—and barrel down the next hallway.
“The scent is still fresh,” Rahk growls, likely to ease my anxiety. Nothing will ease my anxiety, however. I’m going to throw up.
“Can you tell who she was with?” I demand.
Rahk’s jaw flexes. My gut drops.
“Princess Listhra.”
“So tell me,” says the beautiful princess, “why did Prince Trenian marry you?”
I sit where she tells me to on the settee in a cozy little room. A few other fae ladies are here too, and each one is more beautiful and kinder than the one before. I love them all! It’s so special being able to sit with them and talk to them!
They want to hear what I have to say. It’s so very special. I giggle, flush, press a hand to my mouth. “He wanted to marry me to trick the High King.”
A few of the women exchange looks, but the princess’s golden eyes don’t move from me. It’s almost overwhelming, all this attention. I blush a little more.
“Yes, because of the bargain. But why you? What are his feelings toward you, dear?”
Why me? I rack my brain, not wanting to think too long—I don’t want to disappoint the beautiful princess—but it’s a confusing question. Do I even know the answer? I scrunch my face up in concentration. “I think he married me because I was the closest human princess who wasn’t betrothed to anyone. I was almost given in marriage to Prince Brochfael as his sixth wife, and he’s known to beat them. That terrified me.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure. But does he love you? Does he care about you?”
This room is so beautiful. It’s all decorated in a rich, deep blue, with silvery curtains and a polished agate floor threaded with gold. Each object my eyes land on is like a whole new world of beauty, and soon I find myself staring in utter enchantment at a miniature glass-blown peacock on the table beside me. Its tail feathers are even the right colors! It must have been so very difficult to—
“Princess Stella.”
“Oh, yes?” I sit up straighter, determined to stay focused and not stare at the beautiful peacock. Or how the curtains waft as though they’re made of gossamer silk. Or how—
“Does he care about you?”
“Oh no, Prince Brochfael just wanted another wife to add to his—”
“Prince Trenian, you imbecile,” the beautiful princess snaps. “Does Prince Trenian love you? What does he think of you, feel for you?”
I shrink a little lower at her tone. I don’t want her to be angry, especially not at me. And how am I to answer her question? It’s much too confusing. Behind the confusion is a sad, pricking pain. A growing ache. I forget about the peacock. “He broke my heart,” I say softly. “He pretends to love me, but I don’t think he does. I don’t think he can. He’s too sad after his mother was killed. Do you know that the High King killed his mother?”
She ignores my question, waving it away with bright eyes that focus like twin beams of starlight on me. “He doesn’t love you? Does he just use you?”
I nod, licking my lips. No matter how bright and happy I feel, that ache just keeps growing.
One of the other women leans forward. Her hair reaches almost to the floor, thick and silky and so black it’s almost blue. She’s so beautiful, I cannot help but stare and smile at her. Her voice is so melodic, like a sweet song that matches the tranquil ocean of her eyes. I could listen to it forever.
Then her words register in my mind.
“How many times has Prince Trenian slept with you?”
Finally! A question I can easily answer. “Twice,” I reply promptly. Then I frown, trying to recollect my sickness. “Or maybe three? It probably depends on how you count.”
The women exchange looks, as if this is unexpected. One has a decidedly dubious expression written across her face. Princess Listhra looks at me, her brow narrowing. It’s much too shrewd of a look for my comfort, and it makes her less beautiful. It frightens me.
But I don’t have anything to fear. Not from someone so good and kind as her!
“Has Prince Trenian consummated your . . . marriage?” the princess asks.
That’s the easiest question of them all. It gives me a burst of happiness to answer. “Nope!”
The women glance at each other again. Grins spread across faces, and it makes me so very happy to see them happy! I grin back, barely restraining a giggle. Princess Listhra’s eyes glitter so prettily.
“He kisses me a lot,” I say, and the giggle finally slips free. “A lot. I love his kisses.”
Those grins vanish in a flash. I gasp, clapping a hand over my mouth. What did I say to make them so upset? I need to fix this.
“Well,” I quickly amend, “he didn’t kiss my lips until today. Today was the first time. The rest of the time, he just kissed me elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?” says one of the women, flashing another concerned and dubious expression.
I nod. “My forehead usually. Or my shoulder. Cheek. And so forth.”
Princess Listhra’s brow puckers slightly, but one of the women chuckles. I giggle back, delighted at her reaction.
“Do you have any other questions?” I ask eagerly. “I would love to answer them!”
“Should we just kill her then?” asks the lady at the far end. “Now that we know she’s truly just a pawn, no matter what Trenian wants us to believe.”
“Kill whom?” I ask, leaning forward. Maybe if they like me enough, they’ll invite me into their secret. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? I could belong in a group for once!
“It’s too early,” says Princess Listhra. “There’s too much time before Lulythinar to kill her now. He’ll just go get another one. We must wait until it’s closer to the deadline, and he doesn’t have time.”
“How do we know we’ll even get another opportunity? She’s been here for days, and no one has been able to touch her until now. Trenian guards her too carefully.”
“We’ll just have to be on high alert. I’m telling you, if we kill her now, he’ll go get another human wife, and he won’t come back until five minutes before the deadline. It’ll be impossible to kill his second wife then. We can’t be sloppy about this. No mistakes. Whoever makes mistakes will not be who the High King chooses for Trenian’s wife and the future Queen of Valehaven.”
“So, what do we do with her? Just drop her back off where we found her?”
A glint enters Princess Listhra’s irises as she regards me. My heart swells at her attention. She’s so beautiful. I can only dream of being so glorious as her. I shouldn’t be sitting near her—I should be on my knees, bowing down to her.
“We can have a little fun with her while we wait for Trenian to come searching for his pet.”