CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The castle dungeon was similar to the one in the bowels of the fortress. Torchlight flickered eerily off damp stone walls, and a permanent stench of decay, blood, human waste, and despair filled the air. Rusty stains that looked suspiciously like old blood decorated many of the uninhabited cells we passed, while distant moans and whimpered pleas haunted me with every step.
Not far behind us, Nerissa trailed with Garrick on her arm, his eyes vacant.
Bile soured my mouth as I recalled the torment she’d inflicted on Garrick, and I feared I was about to witness something equally as vile enacted on the would-be assassin. Worse still, I was terrified that Preston blamed me for the failed attempt somehow. That Garrick and I would soon be suffering down here as well.
Preston drew me to a halt before a cell just as the guards were throwing the prisoner inside and locking the door. “Leave us,” he snapped, and the guards dispersed with quick salutes.
I frowned, surprised he hadn’t demanded the keys. Was he going to interrogate and torment the man from outside his cell?
Nerissa stalked closer, her red lips stretched wide in a gloating smile. “This should be entertaining,” she said, casting her brother a sideways glance. Garrick stayed behind, watching the prisoner blankly, almost as if he didn’t see the man at all.
Preston sneered and stepped up to the cell, clutching the bars. “Who are you?”
The prisoner, seated on the floor where he’d been thrown, lifted his face to reveal a defiant smirk. Clothed in a cloak, the hood of which had fallen back, he had horns protruding from his shaggy brown hair. His dark eyes didn’t seem quite human, with overly large pupils. But even stripped of his weapons, imprisoned in this awful place, and cradling his broken arm in his lap, he had an aura of fearlessness about him. “Someone who despises usurpers.”
Muscles worked in Preston’s throat as he swallowed, perhaps forcing down the first angry retort that came to mind. “My sister and I are from the Stormclaw family, distant relations of the Silverfrosts. Once that line ended and we entrapped the demons and creatures overtaking our kingdom, citizens like you agreed to crown us as your leaders to keep you safe.”
The horned man snorted. “Stormclaw, eh? Even if that is true—and whispers on the street say your magic isn’t right for that line, that that family all died out decades ago too—you have a true heir now.” He jerked his head toward me, and ice filled my veins. He’d tried to kill Preston for my sake? Preston and Nerissa would surely retaliate against me now.
“Our rightful queen stands beside you,” the prisoner went on, “yet you don’t abdicate your throne for her? She’s revealed her magic. Her blood will save us all. And you want to make her your consort?”
Nerissa’s laughter came out harsh and shrill. I shrank away from its assault on my ears. “What miserable excuse of an immortal are you, to think a lowly mortal deserves to rule over us? Pathetic! We have given her a place of honor. Marriage to my brother is more than a human is worthy of, but because of her magic and blood, we are permitting what has never been done before. A human standing beside a Silverfrost king is unheard of!”
“She deserves it more than you,” the man said, his large pupils expanding as his voice pitched low with rage. “You torment more than humans. You harm our own with your selfishness and greed. You send our families to battle against the other kingdoms of Brytwilde without riding out among our soldiers yourselves, and you misuse the Silverfrost coffers. While our citizens hunger and die, you feast on delicacies and host parties. While demons slip from the underworld and devour our people.”
“Fool!” Preston slammed his fist against the cell bars, rattling them. “We entrap those demons.”
“And then host endless revels in your own honor while we mourn.” The man snorted again. “You are ill-suited for the throne. You’ve never cared about us.”
Nerissa stepped forward, tilting her head to the side as she studied the prisoner. “I take it that you come from that band of rebels that loves to slander us? Yet they sent you alone on this assassination mission?”
The horned man smiled, showing sharp teeth. “Torture me all you want. You won’t learn anything from me.”
“Thank you,” Preston murmured, his tone full of deadly calm. “Then we won’t waste our time.” He lifted his hand, and a sense of wrongness crawled over my skin. The temperature dropped and the torchlight spluttered, casting eerie shadows across the prisoner’s cell.
With a snap of his fingers, Preston unleashed magic unlike anything I’d ever witnessed. The tang of death consumed the air, and the assassin’s cocky demeanor fell away as he dissolved into screams, collapsing to the floor and writhing in agony. His flesh peeled off his bones—skin, blood, muscle, tendon—it all sloughed away as if he were nothing but a melting candle.
And then, he lay still, a puddle of gore beside his contorted skeleton.
I vomited across the stone floor.
Nerissa turned, her taunting laughter echoing. “Does that upset your weak mortal stomach? He deserved worse. A slow death. One we could savor.” She licked her lips, and a shudder of horror I couldn’t repress wracked my body.
Preston whirled on me, his expression as cold as if it had been etched from stone. “Who have you spoken to?” He clutched my arms, shaking me until my teeth rattled together. “He spoke of allegiance to you. Are you spreading blasphemy?”
I scoffed. “How would I, when I haven’t been permitted to leave these castle walls without a whole host accompanying me? When most fae despise me? Where would I find friends?”
But all the while, my blood thrummed in my veins with my mounting fear. What if the assassin had been part of Aspen’s plan? What if she had been gathering loyalists like that man for years, awaiting my return? How large was this rebellion the man had been a part of? Were there more assassins? I didn’t know whether to be glad for these allies or terrified that more failed assassination attempts could doom me to suffering. Or worse, condemn Garrick in order to make me hurt for him.
But for now, Preston and Nerissa seemed satisfied. After all, they knew I spoke the truth. I’d only interacted with Silverfrost citizens in their or Garrick’s presence since my arrival at the castle. Perhaps this wasn’t the first attempt on one of their lives, if the discontent and hunger the horned man spoke of was true.
“Very well,” Preston muttered, waving a hand. “Our evening of frivolity is over. I’ll announce that we are hosting a ball for all of Silverfrost the evening before the solstice. It’ll be an official celebration of our engagement.”
I bit my inner lip, frustrated. Hadn’t this afternoon’s feast been enough? I hoped, with Aspen’s help, the ball would never occur, but if we needed more time, it would be another night where instead of planning to overthrow the king and queen, I’d be forced to pretend.
“You seem to enjoy tempting the demons that escape,” I said. “Even if you clear out the castle before nightfall, that seems foolish. Why not take me to the underworld to defend the entrance at night? Spare your guards and let me incapacitate the creatures I’m already supposed to stop. Let me prepare for the night of solstice so I don’t fail.”
Preston shook his head sharply. “You won’t fail the night of solstice.” The words sounded more like a threat than encouragement. “And we can’t afford to risk your weak mortal body beforehand.”
“But—”
Nerissa stalked closer, glaring at me. “What was that, little Snowflake? Do you think you know better than us? Do you want to risk our wrath?” Her eyes flicked toward the prisoner’s remains in the cell, a silent reminder that made me queasy.
“No,” I managed to grit out. I drew a deep breath. “When do King Preston and I wed?”
Nerissa and Preston shared a smug look. “The next morning!” Nerissa said. “Your reward for your usefulness.”
I swallowed. That won’t be happening, I promised myself. By solstice, I had to have the crown, or at least some temporary haven away from the castle in which to hide and plot with allies. Anything but a wedding.
“Garrick.” Nerissa tossed her dark hair over one shoulder and snapped her fingers as if summoning a pet. “Escort little Florentia to her rooms and ensure she’s well-guarded.”
While the siblings swept down the hall, Garrick blinked and shook himself, as if coming to. When his eyes met mine, they were his again, full of compassion. “Starlight, I’m sorry they forced you to witness this.”
Keeping my gaze carefully averted from the cell, I sighed. “Take me back to my rooms like they ordered,” I said wearily. My back ached beneath my bandage, reminding me of my wound. “And could you send for Aspen?”
Offering me his arm—the only touch we could share with layers of fabric between our skin—Garrick led me out of the dungeons and through the long corridors and stairwells to my quarters.
Outside my chamber door, I inhaled deeply. Once inside, the enchantments placed upon my rooms would make it impossible for me to use my magic. But here, after a meal without forget-me-nots, I was free to draw on the brittle threads of power stirring in my veins.
Garrick glanced at me, but either not wanting to speak when the guards posted outside my rooms were near or when he saw such concentration etched on my face, he remained silent.
Uncertainty wound through my mind. What if I’m wrong, and more exposure to the flowers can never be overcome? I gritted my teeth. It would have to work. Lifting my hand, I made frost form, glistening in lovely, intricate patterns, across my palm.
I made myself memorize the feeling—the way I was connected to the land. The rush of joy that came from using my power. The sensation of strength.
“Light in the darkness,” Garrick muttered, and I smiled at the way my magic made my hand sparkle in the dim hallway.
When I closed my eyes, I was under a velvet sky again, peering at shimmering constellations. Starlight. Garrick said I was light to his darkness, the same way I was hope to a despairing kingdom. Painful brightness to shadowy underworld creatures. And that was what my magic was to me—my hope, my shining guide in this treacherous world.
Holding onto those thoughts, onto the image of starlight and the feeling of Garrick nearby, offering companionship and safety, I let warmth fill my chest. Those were the memories and feelings I could recall each time I wanted to remember my magic as the forget-me-nots’ influence gripped me. Something tangible when I forgot how my magic felt. Something that, maybe, I could use to ground myself despite Preston and Nerissa’s best efforts to render me ineffective.
Twisting the knob to my rooms, I stepped inside and Garrick followed, doing a quick scan of my chambers as if he thought more assassins might be lying in wait, prepared to murder me. I supposed that wasn’t a far-fetched idea. There were probably as many fae that hated me as there were that hated Preston and Nerissa—perhaps more.
“I’ll fetch Aspen,” Garrick said.
For a moment, we looked at one another, unspoken words passing between us. I wondered if he wanted to reach for me, to comfort me with an embrace after the horror I had witnessed. Then he turned on his heel and vanished out the door.
Alone in my room, I shoved the awful images from my brain, trying not to fixate on how Preston’s death magic had peeled the bones off his victim. No wonder he and his sister had fended off a horde of demons. No wonder they’d been hailed as heroes and protectors of this kingdom in the absence of Silverfrost magic. No wonder they wielded such power, even when rebels were amassing and angry.
But as terrifying as their magic was, as much as I feared I couldn’t stand against them no matter how many allies Aspen had gathered for me, one thought kept echoing in my head. One steadying piece of comfort. If they were drugging me and enchanting my rooms, the siblings were threatened.
They feared what I could do with my magic.