Chapter 2 #2
Once upon a time, she was the other half of my soul.
When our father plucked us from the world and threw us into the training camps, she was the only one I could turn to.
We would sleep in each other’s arms at night when the nightmares threatened.
If I was flogged for failing in my training, she’d be the one who cut me down from the posts and tended my back.
If she was starved, I was the one who stole food and water from the cook tents for her, despite the risk to my own life.
You never forget that.
I needed her with a desperation that went soul-deep, and I’d thought she needed me too. And then our final trials began and she left me behind because I was injured—and if neither of us crossed the finish line in time, then we would both die.
She chose herself over me.
And there’s a part of me—the part that was raised in the wraithen court, where mercy only ever cost you—that understands that.
There’s also a part that bleeds, because we were supposed to be more than that. We were supposed to be better than the rest of them. Instead, she only proved my father’s point.
I have no family.
The only one I can rely upon is myself.
But still….
“What do you mean?” My voice roughens as I smooth the paper out. “Where is Soraya? What did you do?”
“Me? Nothing.”
It’s difficult to believe. “She did try to kill you.”
“She’s not the first,” Keir replies with a shrug. “And she won’t be the last. No. I had nothing to do with her disappearance.”
“Disappearance?” This time my gaze snaps to his.
“Curiously enough,” he continues, “it was how I discovered the existence of the horn. Your sister wasn’t in the forefront of my mind until one of my spies happened to chance across her. Or her description, rather. I plucked his memories from his dreams and imagine my shock when I saw her face.”
“The horn? What does the horn have to do with—”
“Your sister was in a position to find it and considering your interest in certain relics—” His fingers brush against the bare skin around his throat.
“—I found it interesting that she just happened to be using a false name in a place that is abuzz with news of the horn. When my spy moved to apprehend her, she was gone. And in unusual circumstances. She simply disappeared. Her room was in disarray, and there were spatters of blood on her pillow.”
The warmth drains out of my face. Blood.
I suck in a sharp breath, but then my mind starts racing.
Soraya doesn’t lose. She’s one of the most dangerous assassins in the Blessed kingdoms. If there’s blood in her rooms and she’s vanished, then there’s a reason for it and it’s not because someone has buried her in the forest somewhere.
What would my father want with the horn? Because if Soraya is using a false name, then she has to be there on his orders.
The cauldron.
Power.
It was reputed to hold the might of the dragon kings. It could break the curse that shackles all of the Forbidden into their wraithbound shapes, and what my father desires most of all is to break the curse on his people.
“Where?” I breathe.
“I thought you weren’t interested.” The lazy gleam in his eyes holds a dangerous smile.
The prick.
I bite down on my frustration. “Maybe I can be convinced.”
“I thought you might be,” he purrs. “She was at the Court of Blood.”
“The Court of Blood?”
It’s one of the most dangerous of the Blessed courts. The only other court that might come close is the Court of Frost and Fangs.
What was Soraya doing at the Court of Blood?
How does it factor into the location of the horn?
Keir must see my confusion. “Three years ago, the crown prince of the Blood Court funded a private group of treasure hunters who began digging into a dragon king’s private hoard in the Frostfangs.
Malechus thinks nobody knows about it. He is wrong.
According to one of my sources, the group found something but apparently all died of a blood-hungry curse.
The last survivor was found rambling in a tavern about how the dragon’s cave was haunted. ”
Haunted treasure trove. Blood-hungry curse. Crown Prince of the Blood Court.
I watch as Keir bites into a fig, his sharp teeth cutting cleanly through the goat’s cheese. It’s far too distracting. “Strange. I thought curses like that were almost the sole province of the Court of Blood’s royal family. Not ghosts.”
Keir flashes me a smile.
“They found something in the dragon king’s hoard.” My mind starts chasing down thoughts. It’s always been my curse. “Malechus wanted to keep it quiet.”
“Oh, it’s far more interesting than that,” Keir says, licking at his fingers. “Malechus wanted to get his hands on it. It seems the lead treasure hunter realized exactly what he’d found and wanted to make more money than what Malechus was offering. He ran with the treasure.”
“More fool him.” There are certain fae princes I might consider stealing from—Malechus is not one of them. Not even for all the souls around my father’s neck. “You can’t spend coin in the Shadow Lands. So Malechus has the horn.”
“Uncertain. The last treasure hunter was traveling through the lands of Mistmark when he died. He thrust an object into a serving girl’s hands and begged her to bury it. He choked to death on his own blood that night, and the girl vanished.”
That changes everything.
Three years ago…. I can’t help thinking that my sister was sent to assassinate the Lord of Mistmark roughly about the same time. My father never did say why.
And it’s one of Soraya’s only failures. She never breathed a word about it, but…
. A mystical relic crosses the Lord of Mistmark’s lands, where it’s passed into a servant girl’s hands.
... And my father—hungrily searching for the power to break an ancient curse—sends his finest assassin to kill the Lord of Mistmark.
“Mistmark has the horn,” I breathe.
“Interestingly enough, the Lord of Mistmark is now betrothed to a princess of the Blood Court. Malechus is hosting the wedding of his dearest cousin within ten days. Every prince and princess in the Blessed lands will be in attendance.”
“Mistmark is marrying Malechus’s cousin? They must have made a deal.”
“I keep thinking the same thing, but why would the Lord of Mistmark give up the horn in exchange for a princess? There are dozens of them if he wants one.” Keir arches a dubious brow.
“There’s an entire court between his lands and the Court of Blood.
To wage war, Malechus would need to convince Prince Anwar of the Court of Storms to allow him to cross his kingdom with an army.
There’s no love lost between the Court of Blood and the Court of Storms. And the Lord of Mistmark has enough power to ward off a blood curse. ”
“Who knows?” I pluck a grape from the platter. “Maybe Mistmark is a coward?”
Keir takes his knife and slices off a wedge of cheese for me. “Alaric is many things, but he’s not a coward.”
Alaric. “You know him?”
“I know all of them,” Keir replies. “Alaric plays the game and deeply. If he’s marrying sweet Belladonna, then there’s a reason for it.
And that’s where my trail vanishes.” His gaze holds mine hostage.
“I need someone to enter the Blood Court and discover if the Lord of Mistmark truly has the horn and if he’s promised it to Malechus as a bridal tithe. ”
Oh no.
No Blood Courts for me.
Soraya disappeared from there.
I close my eyes, trying to harden my heart against the little piece of me I haven’t managed to kill.
Soraya can handle herself. She left you to the Prince of Dreams’ mercy, after all. She wouldn’t come looking for you.
The problem is, I’m not entirely convinced of that.
You can spend an entire lifetime threatening to murder your sister, but if anyone else dares try and touch them….
Still… how do I even escape the Abyss? I can’t. I’ve tried. And Father will never let me go.
If he even suspected the Prince of Dreams owned some part of my loyalty….
“I’m sure if you attended, they’d let you in,” I point out.
“You are the Prince of Dreams, after all. Powerful, mysterious, handsome, and… a bachelor who’s recently made it clear he’s searching for a bride.
They’ll roll out a red carpet of welcome and fling a dozen nubile virgins in your direction. ”
His smile holds teeth, as if to say I am a very good dragon, barely even dangerous, and I’m not trying to put your back against the wall at all. “Oh, I can get in. But I’d be watched. I haven’t left my court in three centuries. If I attend that wedding then all eyes will be on me.”
“Take a spy. I’m sure you have dozens.”
“This is the Horn of Shadows, Merisel. I want the best. I want you.” He holds up his arm, his sleeves falling around his elbow.
Little golden marks flare to life on his skin, and I gasp as I feel mine answer his magic.
“You very nearly stole my most powerful asset—my heart—and I didn’t even suspect you until it was too late. You’re good.”
I am good.
But I’m not going to fall for that little bit of flattery.
“It’s a pretty story,” I point out, “but unless you force me, I’m not going anywhere near the Court of Blood and this mythical horn. Sorry, but I’d rather let you torture me than dare fall into Malechus’s hands.”
Something tells me Keir’s punishment would be eminently less painful than having every ounce of blood wrung out of me by the Prince of Knives.
Keir stares at me, drumming his fingers on the table. It’s a test. He could do it if he wishes. He’s marked me and until the end of the year and a day, I must obey him.
But to do so means he must force me to his will.
Hot flame licks at his irises and then it’s swiftly smothered. Reaching inside his shirt, he tosses something on the table in front of me.
It’s a locket.
Ancient silver, heavily pockmarked with use. A crescent moon linked by a trio of stars. Barely worth a handful of groats, but valuable all the same—because the last time I saw that locket, it was hanging around my sister’s neck.
The breath slams out of me. “Where did you get this?”
“I told you I have my sources.”
I snatch the locket into my palm. Soraya would never lose this or leave it behind.
It belonged to her mother and was all she had of her when she was stolen from her people and brought to the training camps.
Sometimes I’d find her sitting on the top of the tallest tower of the wraith court, staring at the moon and rubbing the locket between thumb and forefinger.
I don’t have a locket.
I don’t have anything of my mother’s except for her pale blue eyes and silvery hair, my father once snarled.
And if I did, then I would kill anyone who dared touch it.
“How did you get this?”
“It was sent to me by a man I hired to track her down. He found it in her rooms and when she didn’t return after three days, he sent it to me as proof he’d found her.
” Keir continues, pouring himself a goblet of wine and then filling my glass.
“You think she’s up to something, don’t you?
You think her disappearing act is merely a ploy of hers…
but I’m not so sure, Merisel. I think your sister is in trouble.
And as much as you don’t care about the horn, you do care about your sister, don’t you? ”
You son of a—
Stars suddenly ricochet through my vision.
It’s enough to make me blink.
What was that?
“Merisel?” Keir growls. “I asked you a question.”
“Cauldron’s piss,” a voice hisses. “Turn her over. Quick! The king has sent for her and we can’t deliver a corpse to him! He’ll have our lungs torn out through our nostrils.”
“My name is not… Merisel.”
I stagger out of the chair, trying to grab hold of the balcony. The whole world begins to reel around me.
“Then what is it?” Keir demands. “What’s wrong?”
“Zemira,” I whisper, staring down at my hands. “My name is Zemira.”
My fingers vanish.
It’s as if I’m evaporating into thin air.
“Zemira!” Keir shoves to his feet, reaching for my hand, but some strange force sucks me backward, until he’s merely a pinpoint of hot, flaming gold—
The world around me grows dark around the edges.
I’m wrenched into a world of shadows.
Hard floor beneath me. The burning ache of iron shackles around my wrists.
Pain screams through my shoulders and I choke and kick, my lungs spewing water as someone slaps me between the shoulder blades again.
I retch and retch, until my eyes are bugging out of my head. Just when I think my brain is going to explode from the pressure, it’s finally gone. Air. I can breathe again. And the first lungful tastes as sweet as Night’s Bloom—the most delicious poison I’ve ever tasted, and the most painful.
It was a dream.
It was all a dream.
Keir. The island. The cauldron.
Soraya.
Because the next words reveal the nightmare: “Get up, dog.” A boot drives into my middle, and I cry out and curl around it, as someone grabs a fistful of my hair and wrenches me close to his face. “The king wants to see you.”