Chapter 13 #2
I stare into my tea cup. Feeling as though this entire conversation is pointless.
“Finnian is with Amarantha.” The words choke out of me. “And I’m sitting here sipping tea.”
Because it hurts like hell. The bond pulses, gold, desperate, wrong, and I can’t do anything about it.
My teacup hits the table harder than I intend. My hands flatten beside it, fingers itching to grip the wood, to tear something apart.
Kestra reaches across and takes my hands in hers.
“I know this doesn’t seem like much.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “But Finnian has been dodging Amarantha since he was a child. He knows her games better than anyone alive.”
I laugh, but it’s hollow. “She’s crazy.”
“Of course she is. She’s a queen of Faerie.” Now she grips both my hands. “As are you.”
“I don’t feel like a queen.”
“What does a queen even feel like?”
“You would know.” I meet her eyes. “You’re a queen as well.”
Her shoulders drop. A long breath in. “I am.”
“What are you going to do about it?” I press. “Because, Kestra, I can’t do this alone. I can’t take out Amarantha and take out your father. I can’t hold three courts.”
“You cannot hold three courts of power, no.” Her voice shifts. Steadier. More certain. “That was never the goal.”
“And I failed the last trial,” I remind her, frustration bleeding through. “The Trial of Truth. I didn’t call the Treasures.”
“You didn’t fail.” She winks. “The other queens didn’t call them either.”
“What?”
“The point was never about calling the Treasures. It’s an impossible task. It’s about what you know. What you choose to protect.”
My face falls.
I knew Kieran had the Spear. I couldn’t bring myself to expose him.
“Oh,” I breathe.
The power of the crown read my intention. Not my action. Not my inaction.
My choice.
“Amarantha was the only one to attempt calling them.” Kestra’s voice is quiet now. Weighted. “And she had the Stone. She failed the rest.”
“This would have been great to know beforehand.”
“It’s your mother’s job to tell you. Fae are matriarchy. Our knowledge passes from mother to daughter. Even my father doesn’t hold the full power of the Unseelie Court.”
“Wait.” I set my cup down again after just grabbing it. “So if you’re lucky enough to gain the crown at the death of the previous queen, they actually groom you? Prepare you?”
“Exactly.” Her smirk has an edge now. “Amarantha doesn’t hold the knowledge of the previous queen. Because Amarantha wasn’t the one Tatiana was grooming.”
“The Morrigan was supposed to tell me everything, wasn’t she?”
Kestra shakes her head. “She wouldn’t know. She’s a goddess, ancient, powerful, but not a court queen. Different knowledge. Different lineage.”
“But you know.”
“I know everything, Ashlynne.” Kestra sighs. “Now, are you ready to finally listen?”
I stare at her.
Really stare. For the first time since I met her.
The nervous handmaid. The Disney princess energy. The way she made herself small and sweet and easy to overlook.
It was all a mask. And I never once looked beneath it.
“Harsh,” I manage.
“I won’t be easy, and I won’t be kind.” Her voice hardens, and there it is. The steel beneath the silk. The queen she’s been hiding this whole time. “And we will need Finnian’s knowledge to end this.”
“And what are we ending, Kestra?”
“You know exactly what we’re ending.” She leans forward, and for the first time, I see her clearly.
Not the gentle handmaid. Not the worried sister. Not the unassuming princess.
A player. A strategist. Someone who’s been moving pieces on this board while everyone underestimated her.
“Now,” she says, “are you ready for a secret?”
“You devious Fae.”
She looks so pleased with herself. Then she turns toward another door.
“Come on out, Tiana.” Her whisper carries through the room like a summoning. Then she smiles at me. “I’d like you to meet the true Queen of the Seelie Court.”
The door opens.
She’s tall. Dark skin that gleams like polished wood in the firelight.
Eyes even darker, ancient, patient, burning with something that’s been waiting a very long time to surface.
Her hair is cropped close to her head, and on her brow sits a crown of living clover, tiny leaves unfurling in real time.
The room shifts when she enters. Not physically, magically. Like the air itself bows.
I feel it in my chest. In the Wild magic that’s been quiet since I arrived in this court. It stirs. Recognizes something in her. Responds.
She moves like a queen. Like someone who’s spent years hiding that fact and is finally, finally done pretending.
“Tatiana’s heir,” Kestra supplies, watching my face. “The one she was actually grooming. The one Amarantha didn’t know about.”
The true Queen of the Seelie Court. Not Amarantha. Never Amarantha.
Standing in Kieran’s sitting room, looking at me like I’m the final piece of a puzzle she’s been building for decades.
“You devious Fae,” I say to Kestra. Then again, because once isn’t enough: “You absolutely devious Fae.”
Because somehow, somehow, this unassuming princess has gathered three true queens of Faerie in one room.
Wild. Unseelie. Seelie.
And not one of them is the person currently sitting on a throne.
“Now.” Kestra stands. Tiana moves to flank her. Two queens, side by side, looking at me like I’m the third point of a triangle that’s about to change everything. “Let’s take back Faerie.”
The bond at my wrist pulses. Gold. Desperate. Wrong.
Finnian.
“We start with Finnian.” The words come out harder than I intend. Not a suggestion. A command. “Whatever Amarantha is doing to him right now, we end it. Tonight.”
Kestra’s smile sharpens. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Tiana’s eyes gleam. “I’ve been waiting thirty years for someone to say those words.” Her voice is low, rich, patient, the voice of someone who learned to survive by outlasting everyone who underestimated her.
Three queens.
One goal.
“Now what?” I ask, excitement humming under my skin.
“Rest,” Kestra says. “We have a few hours before we need to run.”
“We’re leaving?” I sit up straighter.
“We need to.” Tiana shakes her head. “You still hold glamour that you need to shed. And you must reconnect with the wilds.”
“She’s right,” Kestra agrees. “Rest. Escape. Live to plan their downfall.”
Sleep, sure. The bond pulses at my wrist. Gold. Desperate. Still there.
Hold on, Finnian. We’re coming.
And Amarantha has no idea what’s coming.