Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
As I walk down new, unfamiliar hallways winding through the palace, moving past servants, maids, guards, and idle fae aristocrats who openly stare, I struggle with my racing heart.
The king asked for me. Why? This can’t be good news. Who has ever heard of the fae king inviting a human contestant to his rooms?
Granted, I have stuck out from the start by taking another’s place and ending up being carried into the palace by the King’s Sword.
Still, I hadn’t expected him to ask me over.
He’s going to interrogate me. There is no other explanation.
Well, good luck with that , I think grimly. Ask all the questions you want of a girl who has no voice.
Yet it’s also an unexpected boon, a chance to get close to him when all else seems to have failed.
Every magic has a weak point. Earth and air powers, the ones the king possesses, weaken when faced with water or fire magic. My dagger was made from mermaid bones and retains traces of water magic, even if I don’t have any at the moment.
And I’m thinking that right now, my best weapon may be having no magic at all. Being magicless, I may convince the king to lower his magical defenses, drop his guard, and let me get close enough to stab.
What harm can a little human be, after all?
A stab to the heart should work even on the king of the fae. I’m told their heart is in the same place. Their jugular, too. That’s enough for me.
I will make this work. Even if it kills me.
The page boy is faster than I expected, and I have to press myself not to lag behind. My bitten leg still aches, and my soles still hurt, while my legs throb with pins and needles.
I wonder if that ache will ever fade, if my legs will ever feel normal. The spell I’m under is old and rare. As I understand, it’s a geas , a prohibition on my magic imposed by the Sea Queen, to aid me pass undetected among humans, and only she can break it.
This time, we don’t go up any stairs. Instead, we descend, passing past richly decorated alcoves and rooms with soft carpets and heavy drapes hanging at the barred windows. We aren’t going to the royal apartments, then.
The page boy leads me through a great arch and out into a walled garden with a metal grid serving as a roof. It lets the light and air inside while protecting us from sea monsters at a level that I’m guessing is close to the sea surface.
The feeling is reinforced by the sound of waves crashing and lapping at the outside of the walls, though inside the garden, the rustling of leaves and rich birdsong compete for dominance.
A grove.
A grove like the one placed on the central platform during the games, reminding the fae of their homeland. Only this one has real trees, green and lush, and the birds flitting from branch to branch are small, round, and colorful like dollops of paint. More importantly, they don’t seem interested in eating my face.
Two guards step forward, their faces unfamiliar, heads crowned with those tall conic hats, wings creaking at their backs. I wonder idly if Eosphors really look like that, with elongated heads and wings with hinges in need of oiling, or if it’s just a fancy.
Without a word, the guards wave for me to follow them toward another pavilion, this one draped in gold and black with silver lamps swaying all around it, giving off yellow light.
Swallowing past a throat gone dry, I march after them down a narrow, paved path, past the marble statue of what looks like an Eosphor… woman?
I don’t recall the Eosphors having a gender like us. Her face is small and symmetrical, and the wings stretching out behind her are covered in symbols. Her marble robes cling to her curves, a wide ribbon covered in more symbols twining over the breasts, hips, and legs.
“Hurry up,” one of the guards barks, “His Majesty the Anax is waiting.”
Frowning, I trot after them, and then stumble to another halt when they suddenly stop a few paces away from the pavilion. A floral incense wafts out, jasmine and amber, warm and cloying. I take a breath and fight a cough.
The guards stand at attention, backs rigid, hands at their sides. It looks like this is as far as they will go.
While I debate what I should do—simply walk into the pavilion?—I hear metal chimes. A tall fae man appears in a gray tunic and pants, his dark hair pulled back from his narrow, long face in a braid, in the traditional way of the fae.
He pulls a flap of golden silk aside and gestures at me to approach. “His Majesty the Anax will see you now.”
Throwing back my shoulders, straightening my scrawny body as much as possible, I stride past him and into the pavilion.
In for a silverling , in for a golden aurum , right? Let’s see how close they let me this time. How protected the old king is in this secret garden of his.
It’s slightly dim inside, the airy black drapes fluttering on every side, cutting off most of the daylight. Soaring candelabra with flickering candles frame a throne, this one seeming to grow out of the ground—perhaps the trunk of an old tree carved into a tall-backed chair.
And on it sits a young fae man, his silver-blond hair gathered loosely off his face, a golden circlet gleaming on his brow. Pale eyes regard me out of a cool, handsome face. I can’t quite tell their hue. Dressed in dark blue robes, he rests his hands on the armrests carved in the shape of dragons.
Realizing I’m standing there staring, I hurriedly drop into an awkward curtsy.
Because here I am, in the exalted presence of the King of the Fae.
“Approach,” he says, his voice sonorous, seeming to echo inside the pavilion. He lifts one hand to gesture at me, gemstones flashing on his beringed fingers.
Straightening, I take two steps nearer, gazing at that handsome face few have had the chance to see from up close. He doesn’t look old at all, that’s my first and overwhelming thought. He looks young, with that long, unlined face which is a beauty standard for the fae, the aquiline nose, the straight jaw that isn’t as square as a human man’s.
That isn’t as hard as Jai’s.
That cold sensation is back as I stand under the scrutiny of his pale eyes. I didn’t expect the impact of his presence, the way it crushes my chest, or the chill it emanates.
Where Jai’s presence heats me up, the fae king’s cuts me like an icy blade. Yet he possesses that aura, that pull that has me stepping even nearer.
He’s alone in the pavilion. How is he so confident I can’t harm him? I had fully expected to find more guards and probably also a few servants inside.
“So you are the volunteer,” he says, his low, deep voice piercing me. “The one that caught Athdara’s eye.”
The chill spreads through me, and I swear it turns the dagger nestled in the folds of my skirt into a piece of ice, but I lift my chin. I never thought how it would affect me to have him observing me so carefully. So detachedly.
The memory of Jai’s arms around me, his warm breath on my hair, comes unbidden, sudden and all-consuming.
I shake it off.
“Oh, that’s right, I was told you don’t speak. That you are mute. How intriguing.” He now leans forward, eyes narrowing, a faint crease appearing between them. “Do you have a tongue or was it cut out?”
Wondering if I should stick my tongue out for him to see, I shrug.
“So you can hear me. Let me look at you.” Power brushes against my skin, raising goosebumps. What is he doing? Only dragonbone can detect magic, right?
I take a step back.
“Hm…” He clucks his tongue, the sound like stone cracking. “No, you weren’t born mute, were you?”
He’s bluffing. He can’t know the truth. The spell is well hidden, and his magic is of the earth and air, not water.
“You weren’t always mute, and you have a mark on your back.” He nods thoughtfully. “I have long waited for you.”
Shock holds me immobile. He can’t know anything about me, so how does he know this?
Then he stands up, and damned holy gods above, he’s tall. Maybe taller even than Jai, and that’s saying something, because Jai seems to be close to seven feet in height, a giant next to me.
I look up and up as the fae king unfolds, his silver hair falling over his shoulders like a mantle. He looks even more alien from below, his face narrower, his mouth sterner.
“Walk with me.” He brushes past me, and after a long, stunned moment, I whirl about and fall into step beside him. “Welcome to the paradeja of the palace. Every palace has one—an enclosed garden to remind us of the world we left behind, the world we had before the last Reversal, now lost to the waters.”
Just as I thought. A miniature replica of the fae home world.
I look around as we exit the pavilion from the back. It’s a clearing, roses climbing the tree trunks at its periphery, infusing the air with their perfume. The trunks are twisted and misshapen, though. It’s almost as if you can see screaming faces among the gnarled knots, and a shiver racks me.
The king frowns at them, making a gesture that almost looks like a greeting, and keeps walking.
At the center of the clearing lies a pond on which water lilies float. Red and orange fish swim inside. A stone bench stands beside another statue of the Eosphor woman, this one smaller and older-looking, half-covered in moss and lichen patches.
He leads the way around the pond, his steps unhurried, his long blue robes trailing on the ground. “In my home world, the water was benign and safe. This world is different.”
I frown at the grass around the pond. Why is he telling me this?
“We had to leave our homeland behind.” He stops and clasps his hands behind his back, the posture almost military in its severity. “The last Reversal flooded our lands, drowned our animals, our forests, and the spirits living in them. Rot set in. We had to leave or die out, and we couldn’t allow that to happen. So my father took our people and slipped through the worlds to find one where we could thrive.”
I huff, the sound barely audible. As if that excuses their bloody invasion.
“I know we killed plenty of humanfolk and merfolk.” He stops, frowns at the pond. “It was a conquest. It couldn’t be helped. The inhabitants of this world didn’t exactly welcome us with open arms. The human kings, with their long beards full of bird nests, didn’t want to talk and negotiate. Lying, crafty, without pity, sly as foxes, overly proud, falsely humble, miserly, and greedy; living on garlic, onions, and leeks, and drinking filthy bath water!”
The venom in his voice startles me. I swallow down my anger.
“Who are you, really?” His scrutiny only fans it. “You seem familiar. Where have I seen you before?”
We have never met. When his men came for my family, he wasn’t with them, and now I fight the memories unrolling inside my mind, the blood, the screams, the swinging blades, and crashing bodies.
I will kill you , I think. I will end you.
I’ve fed on death. My head is full of it. My memories overflowing with it. Yet I have never killed someone like this, never planned on doing it. It’s a weird, unpleasant feeling, an oily roil in my stomach.
But he starts moving again, robes trailing, pale hair fluttering, gaze intent as he leads us to the stone bench.
When I pause in front of the statue, he waves a negligent hand at it. “A statue of venerable Persephona who is said to have brought about the last Reversal. We share many myths. The stories about the last Reversal made their way through the Nine Worlds. We are more similar, humans and fae, than it might appear on the surface.” He sinks down on the bench. “We didn’t look like this before crossing. This… different from you.”
I look at him, trying to read his face. Is he saying they looked like humans before?
“Some fae are born, some are made. Which, as far as I know, is true of all creatures.” He lifts a hand to rub at his brow as if his head hurts. “Some magic is inherited, some acquired. Take Athdara, for instance.”
My eyes narrow.
“He speaks to dragons and controls shadows. But he wasn’t born that way. And not all that power is his.”
What is he saying?
“Legends say that the Eosphors were the original dragon speakers. The great Eosphors, their leaders, were dragonkings, controlling the serpents of death, controlling the gates between the worlds. Athdara… isn’t in full control of that power, not yet, but he must acquire it soon, because this world is tainted. It’s rotting, drowning, like ours was when we abandoned it. Our journey hasn’t ended. We must forge on.”
Good gods. Forge on?
He means to invade more worlds.
If he means to leave and take his troops with him, what do I care? It would save me the trouble of killing him. And yet my chest tightens at the thought of more worlds suffering what mine went through.
“What do you know of the prophecy?” he asks now.
Still shocked by the revelation, the implications, I shake my head. What does he want with me, toying with me like a cat with a mouse? Why has he brought me here? I lower a hand to my dagger, feeling its hard shape amid the folds of my skirt.
“Answer me!” He surges to his feet and catches my wrist, eyes flashing. His grip is vise-like, cold as ice. “Athdara saved you during the trials. He went after you when you left during the grand banquet. What has he told you? What has he shown you?”
Nothing , I mouth and try to free my arm. Not one single thing.
His grip hurts. I know I’ll have a ring of bruises there tomorrow. “What did he see?” he whispers. “Fire and water can never mix. What did he see when he looked at you?”
Let me go , I breathe, though no sound emerges from my lips.
Fire and water. Is this about Jai and me? Why is he so concerned about Jai showing interest in me if Jai is loyal to him?
Enough of this confusion. I palm my dagger in its sheath and glance to the side, pretending I’ve noticed something. Even a fae king can be duped the first time, it seems, because he turns his head to follow my gaze.
The moment his grip relaxes, I yank my hand free and rip the dagger out of its sheath. Turning, I reach up and stab at his chest, going for the heart.
A true aim, a perfect shot. I can see my hand arching up as if time has slowed down, the white blade rising and then falling like an Eosphor streaking across the sky, I see the shock flashing through his eyes?—
I strike a wall of magic, the blade of the dagger screeching as it bends.
And something wraps around me, yanking me away from the fae king, throwing me to the ground. The dagger falls after me, clattering against stones.
It’s shadows! Shadows that stopped my blade, that are now wrapped around me, shackling my arms and ankles, pinning me to the grass.
Fear grips me. What in the hells is this? Why didn’t anyone tell me about it? He isn’t supposed to have shadow magic.
Nobody but Jai is.
A rare gift. One he shares with the fae king? How is that possible? How could this happen?
“You meant to kill me.” He says it with only mild interest. The lack of guards now makes more sense, seeing as not only are his magical defenses up at all times, but he also has a power nobody ever told me about. “With an old bone dagger.”
Put that way… Crazy, right? The fear is still coursing through me like poison. I should have known. Without my magic, I can never get him.
He paces along the pond, his robes dragging in the grass, dipping into the pond, green and black seeping into the blue. “A bone dagger and a trace of magic… She has an eye on her back… He has a name written on his chest…”
What is he muttering about? He sounds as mad as Jai right now.
The king turns back toward me. “So very interesting…” He waves a hand dismissively, and the shadows retract, freeing me, allowing me to sit up.
Interesting? My dagger lies beside me, twisted beyond repair. Despair grips me.
“Now go and prepare for the ball,” he goes on. “We’ll speak anon.”