Chapter 26
Don’t show a single hint of weakness.
I stalk through the hallways of the Court of Shadows, every nerve in my body screaming at me as dozens of wraiths flock to see me make the long, silent walk toward the throne room.
My whole body hurts after I came to in the dungeons nearly two days ago, but it’s the burning brand biting into the skin around my wrist that sets my teeth on edge.
And the presence of my captor.
I underestimated Ismena.
Or maybe I underestimated just how far Ruhle would go.
He prowls just behind me, his leather cloak flaring like bat like wings. “Not quite as mouthy now, little wraith,” he taunts.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I try to ignore the burning manacles around my wrists.
I tried to Sift out of the dungeon, but the light merely burned right through me, leaving me shaking and gasping on the floor.
I can’t Sift right now, but I’ll get free.
Somehow. Falion manipulated the light. That has to mean I might be able to do it too.
And I’m too valuable to my father for him to break me and toss me to the scrap heap… .
It doesn’t still the nervous twisting in my stomach.
He doesn’t need me whole, after all, and there are many tortures I can survive.
Ruhle reaches for my arm as we reach the throne room doors, and I yank free with a hiss. “Keep your hands off me.”
He gives a menacing laugh. “I’m enjoying every second of this.” His eyes flash with dark fire. “I’ll make you beg for mercy before this is done, Zemira. You killed my brothers. I’m going to cut their deaths out of your hide.”
I lean close enough to see the glint of rage in his eyes. “I don’t think he’ll let you. You might play at being the wolf here at court, but the truth remains: You’re just one of Father’s hounds like the rest of us.”
There’s no point struggling or trying to run. Facing Father is inevitable—it’s merely a matter of whether I do it on my own two feet or not.
So I don’t give him the satisfaction of having the last word. Instead, I turn and stride toward the doors as if they’ll part before me. The guards jerk them open just in time, and my breath catches as I catch a glimpse of the enormous throne in front of me.
An eerie figure waits in silence.
Torchlight flickers behind the king—a ploy I know is intended to make him appear more foreboding—but despite that knowledge, I can’t help feeling the weight of his gaze upon me.
“Father.” I go to one knee before the dais, my fingers curled into fists and my heart thundering in my chest.
I failed.
The horn is gone. I don’t even know who took it.
And there is only one answer for failure.
Boots crunch across the cold slate tiles. I steel myself, teeth clenched against the blow—
Instead, a hand slides through my hair. “You have done well, child.”
What? My head jerks up, but I’m not imagining the smirk on the king’s lips.
“You succeeded beyond my wildest imaginings,” he purrs, capturing my chin in a brutal grip. “And played your part to perfection.”
I don’t know why, but my stomach drops through my heels. Never trust his smile. “What do you mean? I failed,” I whisper. “I had the horn in my hands, and I lost it.”
“We no longer need the horn.” He reaches within his cloak and produces a letter. “I found this on my throne this morning.”
And with that, he tosses it at my feet, looking strangely ecstatic over the fact someone clearly slipped through his personal security.
I flip the envelope open with my thumbnail. The envelope was sealed with red wax, and my heart starts to flutter when I see the impression of the broken seal. A dragon rampant.
Keir’s mark.
And his words, direct and to the point.
You have something I want.
I have something you want.
Meet me at the Easternwick ruins to make the trade by sundown and bring your daughter.
Keir
The heat drains out of my face as I lower the letter. “I… don’t understand.”
“Simple,” my father replies, sinking back onto his throne. He snaps his fingers and Ruhle appears from the shadows behind the throne, dragging a young fae woman.
Ruhle throws her at my feet, and Ismena scrambles upright, panting with fright. Her skirts are torn and tattered. “I did everything you asked,” she blurted. “You promised you would let me go if I told you everything.”
I surge to my feet. Ismena. Here? It makes no sense….
Or does it?
Blood slides from my extremities with a clammy touch. My father’s spies are excellent, but not even they can penetrate the Court of Dreams.
If Father wanted to truly know what happened within the court three months ago, then he would have needed an eyewitness.
Ruhle offers me the faintest of smiles—and the edge of his teeth.
“I did tell you I wasn’t in exile among the border forts.
I was setting up the play.” He drags his gloves off, then captures Ismena’s chin.
“My play. This pretty little princess hates you, did you know? She hates you for having what she wants… a prince’s heart—”
“I don’t have his heart.”
“That’s not what she says.” He shoves her aside as if she’s merely collateral damage, and it’s only then that I see the bruises she’s been hiding beneath the silk of her gown.
I wish I’d never met you….
My heart goes still.
I understand what she meant now. If Ruhle got to her….
It doesn’t matter if she hated me. I know how he works. I know who he idolizes. Even if she wanted to tell him everything she knew about me, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d have hurt her. Violated her. Perhaps even worse.
Sorrow fills me as we stare at each other. I don’t blame her.
I don’t blame her for any of this.
No. I know who I have to kill.
Slowly, my gaze lifts to my half brother.
“Is that fury I see in your eyes, Zemira?” Ruhle grabs a fistful of her hair, pressing her face against his thigh as if she’s a dog. Ismena flinches, looking down. “You thought you were in control, didn’t you? But all I was doing was testing a little theory, and it seems I was right.”
“No.” I can see where this is going now.
I wasn’t the fucking card in play when I was sent to the Court of Blood; I was the bait.
If I managed to capture the horn, then my father would have used it.
But now he’s going to make another play, and I can’t let that happen.
I lunge forward, but one of the guards yanks me back.
Another kicks my feet out from under me, slamming me back to my knees.
And the fucking manacle of light stops me from Sifting.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Ruhle prowls in a small circle around me, his eyes glittering maliciously.
“I knew something had occurred when you came back from the Court of Dreams long after your sister returned. I know Keir’s reputation.
Regardless of your skills, he wouldn’t have just let you go like that.
I wanted to know more…. And so I found this pretty little bird and made it sing.
” He wrenches Ismena’s head back with a fistful of her hair, squatting down and setting his face close to hers.
Grazing his fingertips against her cheek he smiles when she flinches.
“And what a story she told. About a prince who couldn’t take his eyes off our little wraith.
About stolen kisses. Dinners alone. About the fury in his expression when you betrayed him.
It made me start to wonder…. Did our little thief steal something more precious than a relic when she entered the Court of Dreams? ”
“He’s a prince,” I scoff. “He doesn’t like to lose. And if you think he’ll trade me for the horn then you’re quite mistaken.” He wouldn’t dare. Not with the suspicion that Calliope survived the massacre within the Court of Dreams. Not with the cauldron still out there.
“The horn….” His smile is sinister. “You’re always so many steps behind, Zemira. Keir’s in love with you. And he’s going to give us everything we need if he ever wants to see you alive again.”
“You son of a bitch!” I lunge for him again, but one of the guards drives a boot into my ribs.
“How’s your sister?” Ruhle mocks as he paces around me where I lie gasping on the floor.
I try to suck in a breath, try to stop the pain.
Something’s broken, I think, but it doesn’t matter.
I can’t fight my way out of here. I need to be smart.
They’ll know Soraya’s alive—Father will be able to see her soul writhing within its trap—but I’m not about to volunteer any information on Soraya’s whereabouts.
What I do know is that she isn’t here.
She’s with Keir. With Mistmark and Falion. Maybe I’m not entirely reliant upon the mercy of wolves.
“Soraya’s probably imagining a target right in the center of your back right now,” I whisper to him. “Don’t start sleeping easily, Crown Prince. Especially now you only have two or three of your seven left to watch your back.”
His eyes narrow, but his smile is nasty. “I’m going to enjoy cutting the heart from your lover’s chest. In fact, I might make you eat it once we’ve used it to power the spell.”
Ice floods through my veins.
A dragon’s heart.
They know.
Ruhle grabs my upper arm as I lunge forward, his fingers digging in cruelly as he leans toward me.
“Did you think Father was going to make the trade? Your precious soul in exchange for the horn? Did you think you were going to be finally free?” He laughs.
“We know the truth now. We don’t need the horn.
We don’t need the cauldron. What we need is waiting for us at the Easternwick ruins.
The dragon’s heart was right there in front of us the entire time.
” He lets me go, brushing imaginary dust from my shoulders.
“I do thank you, dearest sister. If you hadn’t spoken such a thing so loudly, my little sparrow here would never have overheard you, and we’d still be none the wiser. ”
Ismena flinches, scrambling away from me with her head bowed.
And despite myself, I can’t quite summon complete hatred for her.
If Ruhle speaks the truth, then she’s only trying to save her own skin.
He’s our father’s favorite child for a reason, after all.
She’s just another victim of these vicious creatures.
Just like my mother. Just like me. Like Soraya. I curse and yank at the sunlit bracelet around my wrist, but all it does is burn my fingers.
I turn all my rage, all my focus upon Ruhle.
“I will kill you,” I whisper. “You won’t hurt him.
You won’t.” Maybe it’s a declaration of my feelings, but they’ve already got me bent over the altar with the knife to my ribs.
There’s no point in keeping my silence now.
“I swear I will stop you. Somehow. I’m going to burn your entire kingdom down. ”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Where you’re going, you won’t have a chance. Prepare her for the trap.”
Hands grab me, dragging me away from the throne.
“Stop!” I scream, kicking at the floor. “Stop! Don’t do this!” I turn my attention to Father. “I’ll bring you the cauldron. I’ll break the curse. I swear!”
But there’s no hint of mercy in his expression.
There never is.
“I don’t need the cauldron,” Father says, waving a hand dismissively, “when I have the dragon’s heart right in front of me. Throw her in the cage and ready the horses. But don’t harm her. Keir will want to see her before we spring the trap.”
“No!” I scream as they drag me across the throne room floors.
I can’t Sift. I can’t warn him.
I don’t have a single ally in this place.
But I swear I will stop them.
Somehow.
* * *