FAE HEIR

ROYALS OF EMBERMERE

BOOK 1

LUCÍA ASHTA

ABOUT FAE HEIR

Win the trials, earn a crown—or fail and lose everything.

The heir of Embermere has unexpectedly died, and now a new prince and princess must be crowned.

I’ve been hiding out with the dragons, but then mysterious fae show up at the dragons’ stronghold and abduct me at the King’s command.

The royals of Embermere are hosting the Fae Heir Trials to find their successors. The winners will marry and become the next to rule the fae lands. Turns out I’m the King’s illegitimate daughter and the wicked queen intends to kill me off during the challenges.

I find myself thrust into a barbaric tournament where death is all but guaranteed. I’m competing against the most gorgeous, deadly fae warriors of the realm. Determined, agile men who’ve been training to claim this chance all their lives—including clan leader Rush Vega.

Rush Vega is the Crown’s favorite, devastatingly charming and dangerously tempting. His combat skills and dark secrets will be my undoing. With my survival on the line, my heart must resist his pull and those intriguing moonlight eyes. He’s the queen’s spy, and that makes him my number one enemy.

My life might have become a game of savage brutality, but the Queen of Embermere underestimated me.

I was born a fighter. And I intend to win.

For my magical daughters and beloved,

always

♥

Never reveal a weakness to your enemy, or you’ll give them a weapon to use against you.

— ZAKO SHADE

1. A NAUGHTY DRAGON AND BAD MEN

The sun’s dwindling rays glinted off swords and daggers as they clinked against each other, their clatter muted by the glass that separated me from them. I clutched my cutting knife and forced myself to dice more potatoes. Already, a large bowl overflowed with them. Before the hour was up, I’d fill a few more. Dragon shifters, whose shadows plummeted our town into sudden darkness whenever they swooped overhead, had appetites as sizable as the dragons themselves.

A dragonling, whom I’d nicknamed Saffron for the rich golden yellow of his scales, planted himself at my feet and gazed up at me, his rough tongue lolling out of his mouth. He whined.

I scowled down at him. “I already fed you, and begging doesn’t suit you.”

That last bit was a lie, of course. With his big, dark eyes, wagging tail, and mouth curled into an endearing smile, exposing some of his needle-sharp teeth, he was cuter than was reasonable. It was an unfair advantage he pressed at every opportunity.

Again, he whined deep in his throat, making my heart clench despite my determination not to spoil him. I’d be the one to pay the price for that softness later. “I mean it. No more for you, not tonight.”

The knife clacked against the cutting board with a dull, repetitive sound that had been known to infiltrate my dreams. Or did that make them nightmares?

Saffron inched closer as my attention drifted to the courtyard beyond the kitchen, where Xeno had promised we would spar once I’d finished my chores for the day. Though that had been motivation enough to rush through my many duties, I still wouldn’t be free before nightfall, when the already cold air of the high mountains practically turned arctic.

As he always did, Xeno drew my eye. If I had a true friend in this frigid place where the sun only shone above the steep peaks for a few hours a day, he was it. Though recently he wanted to be more than friends, a fact that surely hadn’t escaped the notice of Malessa. The woman was big enough to block a doorway and in charge whenever the bigger fish were away. I saw him less and less as she found new mind-numbing tasks to assign me far from him. Given that the town, coined Nightguard for the mountains that loomed above it, could be traversed on foot from one end to the other in fifteen minutes, this was no small feat.

But I was the only non-shifter here now that my father Zako was gone. If not for his insistence that he wouldn’t always be here to protect me, no one would have taught me how to defend myself at all. There was only one purpose to Nightguard: to protect the dragons’ stronghold. Despite the fact that I could fight as well as any of them, I was delegated to the role of cook and caretaker of the baby dragons. I’d never be able to shift, and so I’d never be enough to become a dragon protector like the rest of them.

Zako and I’d together been the exceptions.

My breath caught as if I were finding his mangled body all over again⁠—

The blade sliced my finger as I stumbled forward with a startled gasp. Growling, I threw the damn kitchen knife at the cutting board. Droplets of blood dripped across a pile of potato cubes while Saffron’s tail thwacked the back of my legs again.

This time, I jolted but didn’t stagger. I wouldn’t have the first time if I’d been paying attention. The dragonling was fond of the same tricks.

As annoyed with myself as I was with him, I glared down at the creature, whose head only came up to my hip. “Knock it off,” I barked, weeks of frustration bubbling over.

With his smile that appeared far less innocent than it had moments before, he continued swinging his tail, already as thick as my arm. It thumped against my legs. Before it could complete its arc, I slammed down the worn sole of my boot, pressing his tail against the floor—not hard enough to hurt him, just enough to teach a lesson I wasn’t certain he’d ever learn.

“Don’t hit me. Not to get your way, not ever.”

Saffron yipped and attempted to free his tail. He dragged that sandpaper tongue over his lips and up to his snout, imploring with those eyes that seemed capable of the words he wasn’t.

I groaned and released him. He pointed the appendage away from me as it sped back up, already celebrating his victory.

“You can’t treat me like that. I’m not your slave, you know.”

My sharp tone slowed the festive pace of his wag, but it had been necessary. Not for him. No, he’d return tomorrow with the same winning antics. Same time, same sad place.

For me.

Maybe I wasn’t a slave, but I wasn’t entirely certain I hadn’t become a servant somewhere along the way. I only got to leave this isolated town for a short time once a year. Every day of my life, I did what I was told. What did that make me? The dragons and shifters possessed magic to the core of their very beings. It defined them. What chance did I have to ever become their equals?

Scooping up a handful of the bloodied potato chunks, I tossed them at the dragonling, who snagged them from the air, teeth chomping loudly, reminding me that I was surrounded by predators.

Saffron seemed to think we could be friends.

He was too young to know better.

He’d learn soon enough that he and I weren’t the same. They always did.

I rinsed my finger in the bucket of water where I’d cleaned the vegetables, tore a strip off a dishrag, and tied it around the cut. Immediately, crimson seeped into the fabric. I tsked. That would rub against the handles of my throwing knives, though it wouldn’t stop me from continuing my pre-dawn practice before obligations interfered. Besides sleep, that was one of the few blocks of time that was entirely mine to do with as I pleased.

Saffron licked his lips and grinned up at me. He wielded his cuteness like a weapon. Shaking my head, I rubbed the soft crest of his head, where the scales were still fine, almost like feathers, and tossed him a whole tuber.

Making sure to keep some awareness on the naughty dragon at my side, I flicked my attention beyond the window once more, immediately spotting Xeno. He was the youngest of the shifters, and though he wasn’t yet a protector, eventually he’d join the others in dedicating their lives to defending what remained of the dragons.

Similar in age, he and I’d grown up together, and though the protectors often kept us apart, not all did, and Zako hadn’t. With Zako no longer around to discourage his amorous intentions, Xeno had renewed his efforts to make me his. We could never truly be together, not in any real sense. He was destined for a great purpose. I … wasn’t. But Xeno was too starry-eyed to face that truth. I, however, didn’t have the privilege of painting my circumstances with rosy optimism.

There was no escaping them. Oh, no shackles bound me, and I’d never actually been told I couldn’t leave by anyone—not even the fearsome Dragon Mother, who was larger than any beast I’d ever seen—just one menacing look from her had the best of us quaking in our boots. But I still knew too little of the world beyond this place, and the nearest settlement of humans was several days of grueling travel away: the entire reason why the dragons had relocated to the Nightguard Mountains in the first place.

People were a threat. Ruled by their prejudices, greed, and ignorance, many corrupted by darkness, they were a danger even to magical creatures as ferocious as dragons.

Everyone and everything had a vulnerability. Zako had taught me that. I might not be as physically strong as the shifters, but I was fast and light, and I didn’t hesitate to press any advantage.

Despite Xeno’s insistence that he and I could be together, he must know I was only biding my time. One day I’d leave Nightguard and forge my own path.

Noticing my hands had stilled while I cycled through familiar thoughts, I blew stray strands of hair from my face, and set down the knife again to toss another log onto the waning fire. An enchantment elevated the outdoor temperatures within the valley from so cold they’ll freeze your nipples off in mere minutes to so cold you’ll be miserable but you’ll keep your nips. But unlike the shifters, I didn’t contain a beast inside me that operated as a portable heating unit. Sparks flew up around the logs as I rearranged them then returned to my station. My feet had worn gentle grooves into the wooden floor over the years. Even Zako had been allowed to practice with the protectors while I watched on.

At the end, I’d been faster. As lethal as he was.

I worked my way through another full bowl of potatoes before I discovered myself staring at Xeno yet again. No doubt, I could do worse than him. He was strong and quick, broad-backed, muscular, and handsome, with a nice straight nose and full lips that turned up into an easy smile. And though not all of the shifters were as harsh and exacting as Malessa, Xeno was the nicest among them.

He met blades with his sparring partner. Each sword deflected the other before Xeno’s opponent parried. Xeno slid out of the way, feinted in anticipation of the shifter’s next move, and pressed the tip of his sword against the man’s sweater. Both took a step back, acknowledging the point.

As he so often did, Xeno glanced in my direction, his gaze meeting mine despite the fading light and the distance between us. His smile was brilliant enough to illuminate his eyes.

Aye, I could do much worse than Xeno. The shifters were as passionate and fiery as their creatures. Xeno would undoubtedly spice up my life. I imagined it would be easy to love him as more than a friend.

As if he’d inferred the nature of my thoughts, his mouth spread into a wolfish grin. His cheeks were pink from exertion and cold, his hair tamped down by a cap, though a few wisps curled out from beneath it. He flashed bright teeth at me and I chuckled, feeling a flush spread across my own face.

He winked at me before turning back to his partner, who launched a spirited attack. In a landscape of similar pairings, I tracked their movements as they danced around the stone courtyard, somehow aware of the many shifters around them engaged in the same exercise, though neither of them appeared to look away from the other.

When Saffron whined for more food, I didn’t even look down before tossing him another potato and letting loose a wistful exhale. “At least I get to stay inside where it’s warm, right?”

Saffron snorted as he chomped down on his prize.

“Yeah, I don’t believe me either,” I grumbled, and dragged over a stool to the counter.

Before I could wish the potatoes would explode and save me the trouble of cutting them, as I did most nights nearing the end of my kitchen shift, a startling roar split the descent of twilight.

Instantly, everyone who’d been sparring spun in the direction of the watch guard’s alarm and waited, several already sheathing their blades and unclasping their weapons belts, dropping them to the ground. Many were yanking their sweaters over their heads and their pants down as they shucked off their boots, preparing to call on their creatures and defend the dragons shielded by the unyielding stone that towered overhead.

My heartbeat thumped in my ears as I flung open the door of the large dining room, nearly tripping over Saffron, who rushed to catch up. My fingers sped to the holster that rested against my lower back, housing the two blades I was as familiar with as my own body, while my ears strained in anticipation of the next call.

It arrived moments later, and now it was sedate. The protectors gathered their scattered clothing and began to dress.

Saffron bounded out the door before I shut it behind me, and I immediately crossed my arms over my chest for warmth. If I stretched a little, I could draw my knives like this too.

Minutes passed during which no one fully relaxed. Then a couple of sentries finally escorted a handful of men, bundled in bulky coats, gloves, and hats that covered their ears, to Malessa. Several protectors flanked her as she and the men spoke, too softly for me to hear since I lacked heightened shifter senses.

Hoping to appear inconspicuous, I circled the gathering, gradually moving closer. Before I managed to reach earshot, Malessa turned, locating me as if I were glowing in the falling night. Her eyes, a smidge too close together, were alive with curiosity. “Elowyn, come.”

I didn’t move a muscle as stares pinned me.

“I said come,” Malessa repeated as if I were a new dragonling in need of training.

My jaw hardened and my nostrils flared.

“Elowyn, now.”

Uncertain what to do, I searched out Xeno. His mouth was a tight line that told me he was as uncomfortable with the summons as I was.

Zako would have known what to do, and for the umpteenth time I wished he were still here.

Who the hell were these men? No one ever came to Nightguard. No one.

Shifters traveled to the nearest towns once a moon cycle to trade for goods, but they transformed into their dragons and flew to shorten the distance. Zako had gone twice a year, and when I’d begged enough, he’d taken me with him every other time. Nightguard wasn’t on the way to anywhere. In fact, its exact location was meant to be a secret.

When Malessa’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a disapproving frown, my feet moved of their own accord. The woman wouldn’t strike me, but she would make sure what little free time I had evaporated into nothing. And if I couldn’t keep up my training, a part of me would wither and die. It was all I had that was mine and mine alone.

Everyone’s attention warmed my cold skin as I stopped beside Malessa, my focus raking over the strangers. Nothing about them seemed particularly remarkable. Swords and daggers peeked from beneath their long coats, but they didn’t seem concerned about drawing them. Were they … were they human? And if they were, what on Earth were they doing here, where the dragons might eat them before they could explain themselves?

The man in front had eyes that were a gray as stormy as any sky I’d ever seen. They were also as dense as stone. He was no friend.

“This is her?” he asked of Malessa as if I weren’t standing right there.

“It is.” Malessa studied me and the man with a disaffected interest that made my stomach clench.

Looking down his nose at me though we were of comparable height, the man removed a glove and extended a pale hand toward me. A giant gemstone the color of blood capped a ring on his finger.

He stared at me as if I should know what that meant. When I didn’t do anything, he scoffed, then tapped the crest engraved on the stone. Chiseled into the crystal with exquisite precision, two dragons stood an exact mirror of one another.

“His Majesty the King Consort Oren Amadeo of Embermere demands your presence,” he announced, his tone brimming with self-importance.

I did my own scoffing, causing him and the men behind him to stiffen. Demands my presence. Really? Like that was going to make me hop to it.

“Who?” I asked, allowing my lips to curl with my derision. I also batted my lashes in mocking innocence in case they’d missed how unimpressed I was.

The man’s brows arched in affront, shock, or both. “His Majesty the King of Embermere.” His tone had turned hard as the rock that dwarfed us.

“Where?” I hadn’t heard enough about the place, but Zako had told me some about it. Even so, there was no reason to make any of this easy for the guy.

The man glared at me before turning that same look to Malessa, who shrugged her wide shoulders. “Hey, our agreement was to give her a place to hide, not educate her.”

“What agreement?” I asked, my question as rough as my disbelief.

“And where is Zako Shade?” The man with the ring, still directed at my face, like a piece of jewelry could compel me to obey, made it sound like an accusation.

“Zako’s dead,” I growled. “I don’t know who the dragonfire you are or who your king is, but I’m not going anywhere with you, that’s for damn sure.”

He harrumphed and drew his glove back on. “As you wish.”

I began to inch away, careful not to turn my back on the foreigners, but before I could make it a few feet, one of the others hurled something at me.

I identified what it was only as the glass shattered at my feet—some kind of potion bottle. “What…?”

The man with the ring bellowed, “Everyone else, stay away.”

Thin tendrils of a saturated, bespelled blue wafted up like smoke. When I jerked away, shuffling backward, then running, they sped toward me fast as the flick of a dragon tail, latching on to me as if they had thorns.

A cry gargled in my throat as the fog-like substance held me with the strength of our strongest rope. I thrashed against it as it wound around my torso, binding me.

I could still reach my blades. Fingers already grasping their grips, my vision swirled and darkened, the deep density of midnight descending upon me without mercy.

The last thing I registered was a blur of golden yellow as Saffron bounded toward me, and Xeno, sword drawn, charging in my direction. An arrow thwacked loudly, nailing him directly in the heart. Crimson bloomed around the wound, staining his sweater.

His eyes were wide with a terror I no longer felt as whatever had been in that bottle throttled the awareness out of me.

My fingers slipped away from my blades before I could draw them, and I dropped where I stood.

2. ASSHOLES FROM THE COURT OF SCREW YOU

I woke with a start, flinging open my eyes. I was lying on something cushioned, and I bolted to sitting, gaze vibrating as I attempted to take in my surroundings at once. Despite the trail of dried drool on my cheek, proving the depth of my slumber, no grogginess hampered my thoughts. Panic and alertness washed through me in equal measure, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

Three of the king demands your presence strangers shared what appeared to be an enclosed compartment with me, one of them the man with the ring and the winsome personality. When he sneered in my general direction, I imagined myself punching the smirk right off his pinched face, but first…

The space was wide enough for a handful of people to spread out comfortably along the two benches that lined either wall. I alone occupied the one side, where I’d lain and apparently slept long enough for the encroaching night to turn to day.

Bright light, of the sort that only colored Nightguard for the scant hours when the sun was directly overhead, filtered in through drawn curtains on windows. A steady, monotonous clip-clop suggested we were in a horse-drawn carriage.

Where were the bastards taking me? To Embermere? Zako told me it could only be reached via portal.

The men had shed their heavier layers, remaining in prim waistcoats, form fitting pants, and boots too shiny to have been worn on their trek to Nightguard. Their faces were clean, their hair combed, and their attention locked on me. Affixed to the crest of one cheek, Ring Man wore a trio of shiny crystals that reminded me of droplets of water.

Stretching my legs out into the space between us, I felt for my blades. But the undershirt, long-sleeved shirt, and two wool sweaters I wore as my go-to in Nightguard prevented me from being certain anything remained in the holster that wrapped around my waist like a belt.

Leaning forward, I pretended to scratch and itch along my calf.

“We’ve removed your weapons,” Ring said, while the curl of his lips suggested I’d offended him by daring to be armed, which obviously I had excellent reason to be.

My jaw hardened as I openly dipped my hand into my boot, confirming this. “And what gave you the right to do that?” I snarled, next checking if they’d also found the knife in my other boot, then slipping under my clothing to confirm my two favorite blades were also absent.

I slammed back against the seat as I crossed my arms over my chest, a useless defensive measure if they could do things like throw magic at me that I couldn’t escape even by running.

That’s what it had to have been. Nothing else would explain it.

How in dragonfire did I fight magic of all things? Without a single weapon?

I had to force my jaw to unclench to ask my next question, my first still unanswered: “What makes you think you can take me against my will? And you hurt my friend! Is he all right?”

Disinterested, Ring shrugged. “He’s a shifter. I suppose there’s a decent chance he’ll live.”

Yes, Xeno was a shifter, and a strong one at that. But that arrow had punctured his heart.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll kill you.” By dragonfire, I’d probably kill the man anyway, the first chance I got.

Ring chuckled his disbelief, as if I were a mouse threatening a pack of rabid wolves.

Sneering, I narrowed my eyes at him until they were slits. He didn’t take me seriously? That was fine by me. It would make it easier to murder him. Underestimating me would be the last thing he did.

When he parted a curtain and turned his relaxed stare out the window, I harrumphed and said, “You can’t just show up at my home and do shit like that.”

Was Nightguard really my home though? Would a bunch of supposed protectors stand around while these pricks stole me from my home? I understood the shifters were defenders of the dragons, not me, but still … had Malessa really just stood there, probably ordering everyone else, including Xeno, to stand down while she allowed these assholes to kidnap me?

Was that what I got for doing everything they asked of me for twenty-two years?

Apparently.

Heat pricked at my skin as I yanked off my top sweater, dropping it in a heap at my side. I hadn’t been this warm in … well, never, not even under the pile of blankets on my bed. Despite my apparent abduction, I took an extra few moments to relish being overheated before stripping off my second sweater and then my long-sleeved shirt, remaining only in a sleeveless underlayer.

“Are you finished yet?” Ring asked in a droll, nasal pitch that had me flexing my fingers, subtly checking to make sure everything was in proper working order despite my lack of weaponry.

“Nope. I’m not even close. You haven’t answered my questions. What the fuck gives you the right to take me without my consent?”

He tapped the ring with the giant red stone once again. “I already told you. I’m under the king’s authority.” He trailed his gaze up and down my body, frowning when he was finished. “As are you.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t even know who this king guy is.”

The man who sat at Ring’s side bristled at that, drawing my eye. He wore his hair in a long, neat braid that draped in front of one shoulder. His brows were an elegant arch, now drawn low in evident disapproval.

Ring crossed his legs, placing the hand with the blood stone atop his knee. “Whether you’re aware of the king’s authority over you doesn’t change that it exists. You’re his subject, which means you’re to do as he commands, preferably without question.”

“No, that’s not how it works. You can’t just randomly show up, wave a ring in my face, say you have power over me, and knock me out and take me.”

“Obviously we can.” Ring offered me his first smile, as cold as Nightguard.

I studied them. They studied me.

I grunted. “You’re taking me to Embermere?”

“As ordered,” Ring said.

“How long till we get there?”

“We’ll see signs of the royal city shortly.”

“What of the portal, then?”

“What of it?”

“When do we pass through it?”

Ring cocked a how stupid are you? look at me. Ah, so we’d passed through it while I’d slept. How very reassuring…

Ring waved a hand in a circle indicating my general appearance. “You should do something to clean yourself up before we arrive.”

“And how do you expect me to do that, exactly? Lick myself clean?”

The man with the braid huffed. “This is going to be more work than we thought.”

My forehead stretched in disbelief. “You thought I was going to be happy about being kidnapped?” I snorted. “Surely not.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ring said. “Her Majesty the Queen will know what to do with you.”

That made Braid smile like a dragon with a full stomach, and the man whom I suspected had been the one to throw the potion at me quickly peer out the window. With his side profile facing me, and his hair tucked behind an ear, their peculiarity jumped out and smacked me. They had ears like Zako’s! Pointed sharply at the top.

“You’re fae,” I whispered, forcing myself not to touch my own ears. They weren’t as obviously pointed, though they also weren’t exactly rounded, not like the shifters’.

Ring scowled. “Of course we are. We’re subjects of the royal crown of Embermere, just as you are. What else would we be?”

“Assholes from the court of Screw You?”

The potion-throwing fae staring out the window whipped his head around to glare at me. Ring and Braid appeared to be doing their best to sear a hole through my skull.

Ring shook his head. “Unworthy. Unworthy of His and Her Majesty’s attention. Nevertheless, you shall have it.”

“I don’t think she’s going to like it,” Braid commented.

“Even better,” Ring said.

I’d heard and seen enough. Without a final glance in that direction, or a flinch to broadcast my plan, I lunged toward the door closest to me, pulled on the handle, and pushed open the door almost in the same movement.

Before any of them could grab me or hurl another enchantment at me, I leapt from the fast-moving carriage, rolling as I hit the dirt road we were traveling on. I slammed into the trunk of a tree, hitting my shoulder hard enough to elicit a gasp.

Shouts clamored up ahead and beasts complained at the sudden change of pace imposed on them, their footfalls slowing rapidly. The wheels of the carriage squeaked.

With a twinge of sharp pain pinging down my arm, I staggered to my feet, filled my empty lungs, and sprinted into the forest that lined the road. If I could get far enough away, the dense foliage would shield me from view. I hope. It was my best plan, anyhow.

Without a look back, I leaned into my speed, thankful for every morning when I’d dragged myself out of bed before the sun just to keep myself in peak condition. When Zako had been alive, he’d led me through sprints up and down the base of the Nightguard Mountains. After he died, I did them myself, the exertion demanding enough to mute my grief.

The trees’ canopies reached for each other, as if the forest were composed of friends continually stretching into the embrace of a long-anticipated reunion. Their boughs hung low, their roots protruding from the ground as if the trees were one step away from uprooting for a visit.

The sunlight dappled through the dense leafage overhead, illuminating the ground no more than a candle attempting to dispel the night. I whipped past tree after tree, dodged bush after bush, nearly tripped on roots a few times, but focused only on carving out distance between me and my captors. My breathing came heavier but steady. Focusing only on my escape, my heartbeat evened out. My panic faded to the background.

I had to get free. Then I could pause to think. Figure out my next step.

Mushrooms large as sitting stools dotted the ground on either side of the path I was cutting, blurring as they grew denser, while the trees thinned. So gradual was the change that I ran for dozens of heartbeats before I noticed the landscape was steadily opening up into an expansive clearing.

Not good, I thought, a breath before a man’s voice shouted far behind me: “There! There she is.”

I was out in the open, dammit. If dragons flew here, they’d be able to pluck me right up.

Pivoting on steady ankles, I changed direction, cutting a diagonal retreat that was the fastest route back to camouflage. I’d have to skirt the edge of the clearing through the coverage of the trees. It would take longer, but it would be worth the delay. I willed the trees to extend their branches toward me and swallow me up.

A faint whistle trilled through the air. I recognized what it likely signaled—an arrow. I pushed my body harder, faster. Unsure which direction it was coming from—other than from somewhere behind me—I dived to roll away, and was already in the air when⁠—

The sting of fire consumed my thigh as the arrow found its mark. I stumbled and actually had to flick a fast look downward to ensure my leg wasn’t actually burning but merely enduring the horrific pain.

No flames. But my eyes stung and watered.

Limping, I made myself continue in the direction of cover. Every footfall of my injured leg sent a new wave of fire jarring through bone and muscle. But I kept going. It wasn’t far now.

I was almost there.

With the dense cover of amiable trees so close that their rustling leaves beckoned me into their fold, a second arrow rent the air with a deceptively happy whistling.

It thwacked into me with the force of a hundred dragons, stealing my breath before it could rip free with my surprise. Feeling broad and heavy as a spear, the arrow pierced my ribcage, seeming to split my torso in two.

The momentum of my desperate run stumbled a few more steps from me before I sank to my knees, reigniting the arrow that protruded through my thigh so that it burned all over again.

But nothing compared to the wood stabbing my lungs or my heart, or something else most definitely vital. Or did it tear through all of it, every piece of me that was needed to live?

I knew only that this was probably it. I’d been torn from the only person in this entire world who still lived to care about me. Okay, maybe Saffron joined Xeno in caring whether I lived or died, but that was probably only because I fed the little guy. Maybe another of the shifters would be saddened for a few moments at news of my death here, in an unfamiliar forest so far from the only home I’d ever known. I’d never see a friendly face again.

I attempted to suck in a steeling breath. If I was to die and only my abductors would witness my passing, I wanted at least a moment of private fortitude first. My breath, though, denied me any kind of relief, delivering only more pain.

Feeling my back beneath the entry point, my fingers came away dripping in a blood as bright as that asshole’s ruby. If only I’d gotten to punch him in the face before I went.

Momentarily mesmerized by the amount of blood that came away on my hands, I dragged my eyes upward, locking in on my murderer.

So far away that his dark clothing was nothing more than an outline, one of the fae men stood atop the carriage, pointed in my direction, another arrow nocked in his bow, pulled back and taut, ready to release.

He must have taken in my defeat, slumping into the damp, soggy ground, moistening the knees of my britches. Slipping the arrow back into the quiver at his feet, he lowered his bow.

How could this be it? I wondered until the crunch of underbrush announced that the fae who’d stolen me from Nightguard were back to take me again.

Only this time, I’d welcome whatever had been in that potion bottle, if only to whisk away the pain for a little bit until death arrived.

3. SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN, BUDDY

Ring, Braid, and Potion arrived before the hawk-eyed archer stepped down from his perch. The three fae crowded me as Braid and Potion lowered me all the way to the ground, stretching out my legs carefully, but not nearly gently enough. Every shift of my leg, no matter how slight, pulsed deep through its wound.

Arms crossed, Ring tapped his fingers against his elbow, as if me dying were the worst of inconveniences. The idea of making him pay for being such an infuriating twerp spurred me on.

Potion examined my wounds while Braid told me, “Hold on.”

I wanted to reply that I wouldn’t have to hold on if they hadn’t shot me, for sunshine’s sake, but the pain was too great to speak. Besides, what would they have cared? Ring’s ennui suggested he wouldn’t hesitate to order me shot another time if I gave him reason.

My blinking was heavy now and my heartbeat erratic as my body seemed to alternate between surrendering and fighting, giving way to new waves of fire with every push to make it another few minutes. With how loudly my heart was thumping, I didn’t think the bolt could have pierced it.

I gasped and coughed while Braid held on to my shoulders. Without warning or particular gentleness, Potion snapped the arrow protruding from my back. He tossed the fletching to the side, braced a hand against a breast, squeezing hard as if it were designed to be a handhold, then lights as bright as the sun flashed behind my eyes as he pounded the ragged edge of the broken arrow. Every rack of my body felt like it tore me in half all over again.

Potion yanked the tip that had emerged through my chest, clearing the projectile, and bile rocketed up my throat. I barely managed to swallow it back down. What was worse than being shot and kidnapped by cold-as-stone pricks? Being shot, kidnapped, and covered in vomit. Ring probably wouldn’t even spare a fancy handkerchief that matched his precise ensemble for me to clean up.

Swallowing more bitterness, I wheezed, blinking rapidly, able only to focus on getting to the other side of this blinding pain. Once my eyeballs stopped stinging, I zeroed in on Ring’s tap, tap, tapping, but simply observed now and made myself endure.

The rhythmic throbbing that had taken up residence in the puncture wound in my chest receded … until a new sting made me gasp.

I jerked in the men’s grip before understanding that Potion was rubbing some sort of liquid freaking fire directly onto my flesh. It stung worse than the original injuries. With a finger, he widened the hole in my undershirt so he could spread the salve or whatever it was in a wide circle.

Long, torturous moments passed before the burn finally began to cool.

I breathed a lungful of relief.

Braid slid behind me, pulling me onto his lap, my back against his chest. Potion set a petite, glittering bottle on the ground beside him and braced a hand on my hip, the other reaching for the arrow sticking out of my leg.

Oh no. Oh holy dragon fireballs, shit no.

I did my best to steel myself, but anticipating what was coming did no good.

Again, Potion broke the arrow, plucked a few stray shards of wood from the ragged end, then bent my knee, bracing a hand against my shin. Before I was ready, he slammed the butt of his other hand against the arrow like a hammer.

Despite my determination not to, I screamed.

“Oh, please,” Ring said. “It’s your own fault.”

Through the pain, or perhaps because of it, I tilted my head up at him and grinned.

He flinched before pretending he hadn’t.

If my smile revealed even a little bit of the hatred I was feeling toward him, then I could understand why.

Sleep with one eye open, buddy. I’ll be coming for you.

The ointment stung, then soothed, and before I’d gathered my strength, Braid and Potion were helping me to stand, one of them on either side, draping my arms over their shoulders.

“Do you need us to carry you back to the carriage?” Potion asked. A bit like Ring, his question didn’t seem borne from compassion, rather from expediency. What was the fastest way to get me back in that carriage and resume our journey to wherever in Embermere they were taking me?

“No,” I answered, staring down Ring, whose eyes danced with … amusement? Oh, I was so going to make him regret it. I tamped down the wild urge to kick him as hard as I could in the shin, or better yet, between the legs.

Then to Potion, since I refused to thank my captors for anything: “I appreciate the assistance.”

Whatever substance he’d applied hadn’t helped enough. Every step hurt, but I wouldn’t rely on them for anything—even if it seemed I was indeed their prisoner.

For now.

With my leg propped up on the bench seat and my back wedged partially against the wall of the carriage, I twisted my neck to stare out the window. It was partly to avoid engaging with any of them, Ring especially, but also because we were nearing the royal city of Embermere. The closer we drew, the more the forests on either side of the road thinned until they eventually dwindled to nearly nothing, with houses popping up between what was left of them. At first, the dwellings were small and meager, a motley collection of huts, though decently maintained, as if their owners appreciated all they had, however little it was. They reminded me of the shifters’ encampment in Nightguard, where there was scant need for frivolous comforts when the caring of magical creatures was our purpose.

The trees that did remain also reminded me of home. Only the hardiest plants could survive the bitter temperatures, and those that did had needles for leaves and muted colors. But in this warmth, I’d assumed I’d find a land filled with vibrant hues and the fragrance of flowers delivered on gentle breezes. Of easy smiles and the laughter of playing children. I’d figured everything about the place would make me feel alive, or at least more so than Nightguard had, where death sometimes felt a single bad freeze away.

But the landscape was largely painted in dingy browns and grays, with the occasional pop of color that stood out like a beacon of light in the dark.

A shudder jerked free my expectations. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The carriage rolled past a curious creature, perhaps a third my height. She had scraggly hair hanging past her waist, a hook nose, a dingy tunic down to knobby knees, and a dour turn to her mouth. She stopped sweeping her narrow porch to glare at the carriage, and I quickly looked away. A trickling brook snaked alongside us. Even the water seemed too meager for the size of the trench.

A pair of small children jetted out in front of us, and though they chased each other in play, none of the laughter I expected trailed in their wake. They were eerily silent.

The sun’s rays highlighted the starkness of a land I’d imagined so very differently. Whatever magic was here didn’t seem all that magical. The dragons were fierce and often cold, calculating, and vicious. But there could be no denying their power or special nature. They were bright and shiny, and regardless of any feelings I had about working always in their shadow, I never denied their magnificence.

They were magic incarnate, and the shifters a version of them.

Someone who looked like an adolescent fae of some sort hurled a rock at us. It bounced off the carriage, and one of the two men up front guiding the horses shouted, “Off with you, or I’ll see ya brought to court for punishment.”

The young man bolted as if the driver had taken a whip to him.

I frowned, recalling the bedtime stories Zako would tell me when I was young enough to still be starry-eyed and enchanted with life and my lot in it. With broad strokes he’d described a bustling land that brimmed with magic in its every detail. A royal city at its heart, home to the royal bloodline, and the eight fae clans that surrounded Embermere, each afforded rule of an equal slice of territory, all falling under the overarching authority of the court and its king and queen.

I hadn’t intended to interact with any of my abductors unless forced to, but knowledge was power, and I was apparently clueless. “Are we in Embermere now?” I asked none of them in particular.

“Yes,” Ring said, for once not sounding like he was sucking on the sourest lemon of the bunch. “These are its outskirts. The royal palace will soon come into view.”

“Why isn’t it more … bright? Cheery? Has it always been this way?”

Potion flicked a surreptitious glance at Ring before feigning disinterest, brushing at the grass stains on his knees from helping me. Braid opened his mouth then snapped it shut.

I waited.

Ring was back to sucking on lemons. “It’s plenty bright and cheery,” he gnarred. “What do you expect, for them to dance and sing all day like the humans’ fairy tales?” He scoffed. “Would you rather return to your frozen block of ice in the mountains?”

“Yes! Yes, I very much would, you know, since you kidnapped me, and I never agreed to come with you in the first place.”

He glared at me, blinking in slow motion. “It was a rhetorical question. No one disobeys His Majesty the King. Or Her Majesty the Queen, for that matter, not if they want to live to see the next day.”

“Good to know,” I bit out. “What does the king want with me exactly?”

Ring uncrossed then crossed his legs in the opposite direction. “If it were information you needed to know, I would have informed you.”

Rubbing absently at the shoulder I banged in my leap from the carriage, I mused, “Does that mean you don’t know either?”

Ring’s next pause drew out, his tone when he finally spoke a dangerous, sustained hiss. “That means, if you want to keep your tongue, you might want to mind it.” He leaned toward me in the cramped space. “Or I’ll slice it out.”

Though I believed him, I held his hard stare. With people like him who wielded what power they had as a weapon, any show of weakness would be exploited. They’d already figured out they could knock me out with a potion or arrows and force me to comply with their orders.

My smile felt too frail but I revealed teeth anyway. “Has no one taught you manners? You shouldn’t threaten me for asking questions. I have a right to understand what’s happening to me and why. At the very least, you owe me that.”

Ring slid even farther toward me. I had to resist the urge to retreat as far against the wall of the carriage as I could.

“You’re obviously not understanding me,” he said. “Let me try simpler words.” My nostrils flared as he dragged his words out slowly. “You have no rights but the ones our king says you do. He hasn’t informed me of any particular care to take with you other than to deliver you alive. There are many shades of alive.” He didn’t blink as he let that sink in. “I owe my king everything, and you nothing. Nothing at all. Can you comprehend nothing?”

Self-righteousness bubbled up inside me as I stared back at him until I was surprised he didn’t combust from the force of my will alone. My jaw could break ice.

“Tell me you understand,” he added.

“What I understand is that you and I will never be friends.”

He sat back with a dark chuckle. “Well, thank the Mirror World for that.”

I hesitated, then blurted, “What mirror world?”

Another quick look at Ring from Potion before he whisked it away. There was something there, I just had no idea what.

Ring was shaking his head in lament or possibly disgust, not a single strand of his russet hair sliding out of place, though it seemed it should. “You don’t even know what the Mirror World is?”

“No. In case you somehow failed to notice, I’m not from around here.”

Ring studied me for far too long before simply humming noncommittally.

What in the dragonfire did that mean? I pressed: “The Mirror World?”

He exhaled loudly. “Is where we are. Everything you see is part of it.”

“What—?”

“Embermere contains the royal city and the territories of the eight fae clans. All of that, along with the Wilds beyond Embermere, make up the Mirror World of Faerie.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize Faerie was a mirror world, whatever that means.”

“That’s because Faerie isn’t. Our world is a mirror of it.”

“What? Why?”

He flung his hands in the air, causing the ruby on that fancy ring of his to catch the light. “I’m not your history tutor. Now, silence.”

I debated the merits of persisting, but resigned myself to hoping I would have a history tutor. Anyone, someone to give me answers! Because what in holy fireballs was I doing here? And what could a king I’d never met before, of an apparent mirror world I’d never been to, want with me?

A host of similar questions scrolled through my mind as the landscape changed once more. The houses grew in size and became more ornate, also brighter. Though I wouldn’t say the houses were colorful, they were at least less drab, with accents and highlights the huts hadn’t had. A wreath of green and red berries hanging on a door here, a sky-blue ribbon adorning another there. More space separated the houses, and some even boasted a second story. Next, a row of quaint shops were almost cute. No signage announced what they were, but I hoped I’d have the chance to find out. Nightguard didn’t have a single shop when our community was so small. But hundreds of people—at least—must live here.

I opened my mouth to ask about the population before deciding not to. Abruptly, the shops and dwellings ended and stone pillars bordered the road, marking its path. I craned my neck to see all the way to the columns’ capitals and the ornate carvings that undulated across them.

My heart froze mid-beat, throbbing within my chest and leg in particular.

“Is that…?” I swiveled to get a better look, wincing at the movement. “Is that … a dragon’s head mounted on that pillar?”

Braid and Potion glimpsed at me but didn’t speak. Neither looked appropriately horrified at the ghastly sight.

“Yes,” Ring answered, distaste with me somehow managing to roll off that single syllable.

The man was talented.

“But, why? Why do you have a severed dragon’s head on display?”

Another tilt of lips that spelled disdain. “Dragons are foul, murderous creatures.”

“Well, here’s some news for you: We might’ve just met, but I can already say the same about you.”

“Any dead dragon you see’s gotten exactly what it deserved.”

“What do you think you deserve for taking me from my home without my consent and then shooting me?”

“A commendation for my extraordinary patience.” His lips puckered and reached for his nose before lowering. “Again, what His Majesty orders is to be done without question. A lesson you will soon learn.”

“Doubtful,” I murmured. My jaw dropped as another column loomed into view. Another dragon head. This creature’s scales were a dull light brown, likely bleached from death and the constant sun. But I imagined they might have once been the golden yellow that was so familiar to me.

Saffron. For all his mischievous ways, I already missed him. These people—these disgusting murderers—would probably want to chop off his head and mount it for all to see.

“This is sick,” I said, better understanding why the dragons, as majestic as they were, rarely left hiding. Why they hunkered down in a place as isolated from the rest of the world as the Nightguard Mountains.

Because of this. And pricks like Ring.

“What’s your name?” I asked, my disgust heavy.

Ring studied me for a moment. “Why?”

“Because I want to know what to call you when I curse you in my thoughts.”

“Then you can call me your ‘lord.’”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“You’ll be made to soon enough.”

“You obviously don’t know me very well.”

Another few seconds lapsed while he studied me, his gaze unnerving. “You were a servant in Nightguard.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, I wasn’t.” Of course I had been, at least a little.

“You served the dragons and the shifters.”

“No, I didn’t serve anyone. I did my part in a community, where we all contributed.”

“If you say so.”

My fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides. I itched to be free of injury so I could bolt from the cabin again. Right then, I would have made a run for it, uncaring whether or not they shot me another time. At least I’d make them work for it. At least I’d get to fight.

“When do I get my weapons back?” I asked around a tight jaw.

“You don’t,” answered the lord of assholery. “Not unless His Majesty dictates it.”

“Then take me to the motherfucking king already.”

As fast as any of the dragon shifters, Ring jerked forward and slapped me across the face, hard enough to send a new festival of lights sparkling through my vision. I tasted blood on my tongue.

Blinking, I cleared my sight, though my ears rang dully. Sliding forward, every one of my injuries protesting, I reared back to return the gesture. I swung at Ring’s face, but my shoulder and chest pulled, and I was slower than usual.

My hand glanced across his ear before he caught my wrist, holding it in an iron grip.

“Touch me again and you will regret it. This is my final warning. Remember, the king ordered me to deliver you alive. Nothing else. Perhaps Finnian or Sandor would enjoy to have a turn with you…”

He looked at the other two men, who did nothing to indicate if they would, or what exactly the principal prick meant by that.

“Let. Me. Go,” I gritted out.

He didn’t for long enough that I considered whether I should kick him or if I’d regret it. My body needed to heal, not receive more blows.

My breathing was heavy when he eventually released me. I slid back on my seat, as far away from him as I could get without appearing to be retreating.

“I’m going to tell the king you hit me.”

“Be my guest.”

With apathy once more ironing out his features, he faced the window, the road dotted with dragon-head-topped columns, making me wonder what kind of place this Embermere was, and what kind of king would rule it.

4. AS SAFE WITHIN THE PALACE AS IN A HUNGRY DRAGON’S DEN

“I have to pee,” I blurted, before taking the time to develop a more elegant plan. Time was what I’d abruptly realized I was nearly out of. The horses had begun to climb, dragging the carriage up a hill behind them.

“You have to … ‘pee?’” Ring arched a single thick brow that was several shades darker than his hair.

“Yes. U-ri-nate,” I enunciated. “Don’t act all high and mighty like you don’t pee too. We all do it.”

Truly, I had no idea what fae like them might or might not do. The only fae I’d ever met before was Zako, and I suspected none of these men were like him. Surely, none of them knew how to laugh like he had. Even when there seemed little reason for it, he’d singled out blessings that overpowered the dreary monotony of life in service to the dragons. Zako had mostly been a hardass to balance out the soft underbelly he only ever let me see, but he’d also been extraordinary. Warmth spread through my chest for a moment as his smiling face floated through my memories.

Ring tsked. “You can wait. We’re almost at the palace.”

“I realize that.” It was why I needed to get out of the carriage right the hellfire now. All I could make out through my vantage point from the window was more oddly parched, stark land, more severed dragon heads that helped me better understand Nightguard and what we did there, and not much else. Certainly nothing that would help me plan a future escape route.

If after our arrival at the royal palace I was given a room with a view of the city spreading out before me, then great. Plan away I would. But if I were locked in a dungeon cell, as seemed more probable given my current status, then information about the layout of the palace would be invaluable.

“Would you rather I pee all over this fancy seat?” I asked Ring. The bench cushion was sheathed in a fabric more detailed than anything I’d ever seen. It was silky and soft to the touch, embroidered with satiny, shiny threads. Of course, the scenes depicted a man with a sword standing atop the carcasses of slain dragons. It gave me one more reason I wanted to return to Nightguard without delay. When I saw him, I’d hug Saffron so hard that his eyes bulged. What kind of monsters hunted creatures as magical as dragons to near extinction?

Oh, that’s right. Murderers.

My need to do some reconnaissance increased.

“I’ll do it, you know,” I said. “Pee right all over the place. It’s not good to ignore our body’s needs.”

The horses clip-clopped right on, climbing more, while Ring stared at me, impassive.

“I’ll make sure it gets all over those fancy shoes of yours.” His boots were nearly as shiny as the seat cushion.

“As if I were a babysitter,” he muttered, casting a pained look at Braid, who knocked twice on the wall behind them.

The carriage eased to a stop. With the skin around my wounds pulling unpleasantly when I rose, I got up as quickly as I could, swallowing a wince and a groan. I’d pushed the door open and had one foot on the steps leading down from it when Potion grabbed my wrist, stilling me.

“If you run, we’ll be forced to shoot you again. Or use another potion.” Unlike with Ring, I detected no pleasure in his warning. His gray eyes were somber. “There isn’t anywhere to go.”

I nodded, resisting the curious—and unreasonable—urge to thank him.

“Finnian, go with her,” Ring said. “Watch her.”

Bent low, I snapped a glare on him beneath my arm. “I don’t need someone to hold my hand while I pee.”

“I should hope not. But if you want to relieve yourself, this is the only way it’s going to happen.”

I narrowed my eyes at him but it was like staring down the misbehaving Saffron for all the good it did me.

“Fine,” I growled.

He smiled like he smelled a foul odor. “Fine. Hurry it up. I won’t keep His Majesty the King waiting because you have the bladder control of an infant.”

A colorful insult brewing on my tongue, I swallowed it and stepped outside instead. Mr. Personality would get his comeuppance.

I pointed my face to the sun, enjoying its newfound warmth while I stretched my neck and my shoulder, until I realized just how much damage those arrows had caused. Whatever this Finnian had done had sped up my healing, but they’d still shot me at long range with the force of stampeding dragons.

“What’s taking so long?” Ring barked from within the carriage.

“I’m shy. I can’t go with him watching.”

“Then get back here. We’re going.”

I scowled at the lacquered red walls of the carriage, as shiny and bright as scales, before looking at Finnian.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have my orders. I can’t look away. But I will keep my gaze above your waist. You have my word.”

“Finnian, we don’t have time for niceties,” Ring snarled while I smiled silent thanks at the fae.

The drivers faced forward, and though we were theoretically at the final approach to the castle, where I would have thought there’d be significant traffic, I spotted no one on the thoroughfare. Someone we’d passed a while back on our way here perhaps could get a view of my pale ass, but that didn’t matter. There wasn’t a rock or plant to hide behind.

Squatting and yanking my britches down as little as possible, I committed what I saw to memory. A gigantic palace loomed at the top of the hill as if it were itself a mountain. Many stories high with multiple towers, it appeared to be made of stone, wood, and enormous panes of glass, though I saw no sign of where they might have come upon those resources in such great quantity.

The road, instead of weaving a switchback route, cut straight up the rise. Pillars with lumps atop them, which I assumed were more dead creatures, continued to dot the long path between trees that increased in size the farther up they went. The treetops became bushier and fuller, and eventually grasses stretched across the land in hues of green, lilac, yellow, and orange.

But what was most striking was how bright the palace itself was. Even from a distance, I could tell it harnessed more color than anywhere else I’d seen over the past hours combined. Red and azure banners flew from turrets. Roofs were a cheery blue. And large glass panels across the upper floors shimmered as if they were mirrors. What looked perhaps like a moat circled it, filled with water that glinted like starlight as it reflected the sun.

This was what I’d imagined of Embermere based on Zako’s stories.

“That’s enough,” Ring said. “Come this instant or I’ll command Finnian to bring you.”

I grunted, but not entirely due to Ring’s charming manner. The palace was isolated from its surroundings. There was no hustle and bustle to hide me as I snuck out. Unless there was a thriving community below and behind it I couldn’t see from here, there’d be nowhere to hide.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I grumbled. “Hold your horses.”

Books were an extravagance in Nightguard, but Zako had still somehow managed to finagle a nice, though small, collection for me. One of my favorites was the Princess and the Dragon. The princess lived in a “palace as large as a thousand dragons.” As a young girl, I’d imagined her home, so very unlike mine, much like this castle. Now that I stood within Embermere’s, however, I realized the princess’ thousand-dragon abode was like a playhouse compared to its stunning vastness. It was luxury of the kind I’d never even heard described before, not even by Zako, who’d probably at least seen it at some point in his life before moving with infant me to Nightguard.

Ring, whose name turned out to be Dougal, led me, Finnian, and Sandor through massive doors several times my height; across several endless, echoing halls and walkways, their walls covered in art; through another set of ridiculously large double doors, these a bit smaller though far more ornate; down another hallway, this one narrower than the others; before pushing open a door in a long line of them, and standing beside it, staring at me.

“Well?” he growled when I didn’t walk through it like a puppet at the end of his strings. “Hurry on now.”

Hesitantly, I peered through it to find a bedchamber with satiny buttercream walls, white moldings, a vanity with a mirror and stool beside it, and the biggest bed I’d ever seen. It was almost identical to the princess’ until she had to upgrade to make room to sleep with her dragon.

Dougal tsked, my only warning before he shoved me through the door with a hard slap to my back, inches from the wound still working to close. I staggered but caught myself, turning toward him and willing my eyes to transform into daggers so I could murder him on the spot.

“You’ll remain here until someone comes to get you,” he said. “A goblin will be in to aid you in washing the smell of beast from you shortly. Do not tarry. The king will surely want to see you posthaste.”

“That’s … that’s it?” I asked when he began to draw the door closed behind them. I took in the warm brown of Finnian’s skin before meeting his eyes. They revealed nothing of what awaited me.

Dougal swung the door all the way open once more. “What did you expect? A fanfare of trumpets and a royal ball to welcome you to court? Yes, that’s it.”

Again, he went to close the door.

“My weapons,” I rushed to say. “I need my weapons.”

“Not here you don’t. You’ll be safe within the palace.”

I held back a snort. Not so long as the likes of him were within its walls. “I want them anyway.”

“No.”

“They’re of sentimental value to me.” Zako had given them to me once he’d determined I’d earned them. But more than that, I was sentimental about making it through the day without having a potion or arrow shot at me.

“Females have no need for weaponry or their own defense here. There will be a guard stationed outside your door at all times.”

My smile could have snapped a twig. “I appreciate that.” I didn’t. “But they are mine, and I shall have them.”

“They are the property of the Crown now.” He studied me from top to bottom, seeming to take in my ragged tank top, the dried blood crusted on it, my well-worn britches and boots, and the empty weapons sheath at my back. His upper lip curled toward his nose. “As are you.”

He pulled the door behind him before peeking his head in through the crack. “Oh, and don’t even think about escaping through the windows. They’re enchanted not to open for you. Besides, you’d never survive the fall.”

That was assuming I would fall. I occasionally scaled the foothills of the Nightguard range to build strength and skill.

“The only way in and out is through this door. Don’t open it unless you’re summoned. Do you understand?”

I refused to dignify that with an answer.

He slammed the door with finality. I stood where I was while I listened to three sets of soft footfalls retreat. The men, though all taller than me, moved with the lightness of someone a fraction their size.

When silence settled out in the hallway, I waited another few minutes, then opened the door, looking out⁠—

“Oh,” I squeaked, clearing my throat. “Hi there.”

A man who appeared only a few years older than me nodded his acknowledgment but said nothing. He had sun-kissed skin, sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, and plump lips—the only plump thing about him. An old, faint scar sliced across his temple. His hair, long and pulled back from his face, did nothing to hide it, or the pointed tips of his ears. He wore a tunic that ended at his thighs, and a short sword on one side of his belt, a set of daggers hanging from the other. Their wooden handles were molded to his hands, the polish worn dull from where he must practice with them often.

“Do you see something that interests you?” he asked, his voice deep with apparent amusement.

I looked up, meeting his eyes: a rich, light gray, like the silver of moonlight.

“Actually, yes.” Only once I returned my attention to his hips could I not help but notice what hung between them, his britches molded around a noteworthy bulge. I clicked my tongue. “Not that. Your sword.”

When I felt him staring down at me, I rolled my eyes. “Not that sword, jeez. Your weapon.”

“Some might say my … ‘sword’ is a weapon.”

“Again, not that sword.”

“If you say so.” He stood with his slim, booted feet hip-width apart, his arms crossed over a muscular chest. His biceps strained against his shirt enough to mark their developed curve.

“I do say so,” I grumbled.

His brow arched.

I scowled. “I was admiring your weapons belt since it’s actually filled with weapons.” A set of slim, small throwing knives was tucked behind the daggers and sword.

I spun and pointed to my lower back. “See? My holster is woefully empty.” I offered a hopeful smile. “You think you could fix that for me? They took everything I had on me. My blades weren’t theirs to take.”

His brows lowered as he scanned the length of me, this time interest illuminating his eyes. “I can appreciate the gravity of the loss of one’s weapons, but I assure you, you won’t need them here.”

“I disagree.”

“I’ll be your guard.”

“While you look plenty competent”—I swept my admiration up and down his body; the man looked like he could move—“I protect myself.”

“That’s … new.”

“What’s new?”

He didn’t answer as he once more studied me.

I cocked a hip to one side. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’ve been kidnapped.”

No reaction beyond a blink of dark, thick lashes.

“You know? Taken from my home against my will? Drugged with some kind of sleeping potion or other and snatched while I was passed out?”

“The Crown must have its reasons,” he muttered, but the tilt of his eyes suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“I’m sure that will be made clear soon enough. Her Majesty the Queen will command you.”

“I was told the king’s behind me being here.”

“The king?”

“Yes. Why? Is that weird?”

“No, not at all.”

Liar.

“You should get cleaned up quickly. They’ll be coming for you soon,” he said in a clumsy attempt to change the subject. “Your goblin awaits you.”

“My goblin awaits me? Now there’s a phrase I never figured I’d hear⁠—”

“Hurry, Mistress,” said someone from behind me. I whirled to find a creature as tall as my thighs standing in an alcove I hadn’t previously noticed, doors hanging ajar. Behind them, the goblin, I supposed, whirled its slender, gnarled finger and the sound of rushing water cut through my stunned silence.

“You can’t be late. Never late.” The goblin’s voice was at once both squeaky and rough, reminding me of a frog’s croak. “And you’re filthier than a stable.”

“Hey! I can’t help that I was kidnapped at the end of a long day. And yes, part of that time was spent in stable-like dens⁠—”

“No time for this. Can’t be late.”

The goblin stalked toward me and started unfastening my boots. “Hurry. Off with your clothes before it’s off with your head. Dried blood to boot,” the odd creature muttered while I turned back toward the guard, whose name I hadn’t even caught. Apparently they weren’t fond of introductions here in Embermere.

But the door was closed, and the guard was gone, presumably just outside.

The goblin unfastened my weapons belt and let it drop to the floor.

“Be careful with that,” I cautioned.

“No time for careful. Besides, empty. Useless.” The goblin tugged at my pants, and I slapped its hands away.

“I can do that.”

“Then do it.” The goblin stepped back only enough to give me room to kick off my pants, tapping its bare foot, marking out the passing seconds it seemed so obsessed with.

I stilled, one leg in, one leg out. “You have dragon feet.”

“No, I have my feet. Off with your clothes.”

When the goblin reached for my pants again, I stumbled backward. “I got it.”

“Then get it already.”

Exhaling loudly, I took care to pull the fabric from the wound on my thigh, then slid off my pants quickly, doing the same with my shirt. “Okay, now what?”

But the goblin was already in the alcove, tapping its strange dragon feet. “Hurry, hurry,” it called. “In the bath you go.”

With a steeling inhale, I obeyed, wondering if everyone in Embermere was fond of barking orders, or if I’d just gotten lucky with the company I’d met so far.

5. APPEARANCES ARE NEARLY AS IMPORTANT AS THE TRUTH

In Nightguard, the closest I got to bathing with running water was showering under a weak, frigid, waterfall that trickled down the mountainside. It was an occasional necessity I endured while doing my best to swallow my yelps.

But Embermere possessed some kind of water delivery sorcery I quickly wished I’d never have to do without. I enjoyed every moment of my hot, running bath as it soothed my wounds and muscles…

Or would have if not for the goblin tapping its feet in impatience the entire time I soaked, staring me down.

I glared right back at the creature.

“I guess this’ll have to do,” the sourpuss said as it narrowed its eyes and performed a final sweep across my clothed body.

“Well, it had better do,” I snarled, releasing a ragged exhale. “I can hardly breathe in this thing. It’s doing wonders for my cracked ribs, let me tell you.” I waved a hand at the bodice the goblin had all but shoved me into.

“You can obviously breathe or you wouldn’t be able to complain. Which you clearly can do plenty of even though we don’t have time for it.”

It padded off to an armoire recessed into the wall, pulling open the doors to reveal a series of satin-wrapped, pristine shoes in a range of sizes, shapes, and colors.

“Can’t I just wear my boots?” I asked, before wanting to reel my words back in. Just because the goblin had waltzed in here with its hurry, hurrys and barked orders, didn’t mean I had to ask permission to do a single thing.

I went to sit on the bench that edged the bottom of the plushy bed only to discover I couldn’t bend over like usual. Lowering myself stiffly instead, I got all the way down before my next inhale was especially painful and shallow—and discovered my boots were too far away to reach without standing up again.

Groaning, I hiked up the many layers of tulle of my skirt and gazed longingly at the boots that reminded me of Nightguard and all I’d endured there. They were designed for movement, and I was running at the earliest opportunity.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the goblin said, its head deep in the armoire, from which the creature emerged with a pair of shiny sky-blue slippers that matched my dress exactly. “Appearance is everything here at court. You’d be wise to keep that in mind.”

The goblin clicked its tongue at me, and I offered it a foot and a scowl.

“I’m not concerned about my appearance,” I said. “I’m a prisoner here. Why would I care what I look like?”

“Because”—it slid on the second slipper—“in the world of Faerie, and its mirror world, appearances are nearly as important as the truth.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

The goblin drew back to examine me once again. “It means we don’t have time for your many questions. And it’s not my place to give you answers.”

“Then whose place is it?”

“That depends on who you are and what you’re here for.”

I arched my brows at that. “You don’t know?”

The creature glanced away. “No. We servants are only given the information needed to perform our duties.”

“That sounds like a load of dragonshit to me.”

The goblin whipped its head up so fast I wondered if it had super speed. A glint of what might have been surprise, or maybe amusement, flickered across its eyes before vanishing so quickly I wondered if there’d been anything there at all.

“I wouldn’t say that in front of anyone else if I were you,” the creature commented, climbing onto the bench beside me and digging its knobby fingers into my upper arms, jerking me toward it.

“Ow. Will you please remember that I’m healing from several injuries? I don’t need you aggravating things every chance you get.” The faster I recovered, the sooner I’d find my way out of here. But I’d be a fool to make my attempt before I was at full strength.

The goblin dragged a comb through my long hair, none too gently. “You whine too much.”

“And you’re about as fun as a pus-oozing boil on my bare ass.”

The creature chuckled.

I started to turn toward it, but fingers like stone held me in place. “Did you just laugh?”

“No.”

“Yes you did.”

“I did not.”

“Why can’t you just admit you thought what I said was funny?”

The goblin hesitated before yanking the comb through knots, probably ripping my hair in the process. “We goblins aren’t supposed to befriend our assignments.”

Warmth spread through my chest. “Aw, well, we can be friends anyway. I could use a friend here.”

“We will not be friends,” the goblin whipped out, and the warmth seeped out of me like a blistering wind.

I crossed my arms over my chest, winced at the tug on my flesh and ribs, and let them fall to my lap. My injuries were definitely healing more rapidly than usual. Even my ribs, though I didn’t remember Finnian applying anything to them. It was as if whatever magic he’d used on me spread to where it was needed—or something. Even surrounded by magical creatures in Nightguard, few enchantments had been used, and then only ever by a visiting witch; no spells had ever been cast in my presence.

“Can I at least know your name?” I asked. “So I can stop thinking of you as that ‘annoying, cranky goblin’ in my head.”

“No.” The creature began braiding my hair, which hung past my waist and was thick. It would take forever.

“Just leave it down,” I said.

“No one can wear their hair loose in the court by order of the queen.”

“Why not?”

“She’s the only one allowed to wear her hair down.”

“That’s stupid.”

“If you value your life, you’ll never say that again.”

I harrumphed. “Why won’t you tell me your name? Would you rather I just call you ‘it?’”

The goblin’s fingers paused before continuing their rapid twisting. The creature was a braiding machine. “Names have power in the Mirror World.”

“Which is here?”

“Yes, which is here.”

“I’ll tell you my name.”

“You shouldn’t. It will give me power over you.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re already too big for your britches.” Which the goblin didn’t actually wear.

“I’d like to wear britches.” The goblin sounded wistful for a moment before clearing its throat.

“Let me guess. You’re not allowed.”

“No, Mistress, we servant goblins are not, not the females at least. We must wear frocks.”

Ah, so the goblin was a she. Good to know.

“Give me something to call you, then,” I said, “or I’ll call you … Prunella.”

“Prunella,” the goblin deadpanned.

“Yup.” I smiled for the first time in what felt like ages.

“So what’s it gonna be, Pru?”

“Whatever Mistress desires.”

“Aw hell. This is gonna be a long-ass day, isn’t it?”

“The longest,” Pru said, obviously swallowing a groan.

A knock arrived as Pru was tying a shiny, fancy ribbon around my neck. I hadn’t been able to convince her to provide me with a weapon sheath of any sort, but an unnecessary, totally useless strip of fabric? Yes, absolutely, that she was on board with.

“Can’t be late, can’t be late,” Pru said, fastening the ribbon so tightly it choked me before scampering off to open the door.

I rolled my eyes and retied the knot, taking the opportunity to push to standing and spare my ribs.

Though the guard was the same as before, when the door swung open I stopped to stare, and was all too aware I was doing it. Still, I couldn’t seem to help myself. I didn’t want to.

Nightguard had its fair share of dragon shifter men who were strong and capable, rugged and objectively handsome. I’d known all of them most of my life, long enough to come to consider most of them part of my dysfunctional, extended family.

This guard was new and different. His eyes seemed to swallow me whole.

He met my gaze for a moment before openly dragging his eyes down my body, pausing over the scars that marked my upper arm, lingering across the swells of my breasts that Pru had managed to plump toward my throat, dipping over my stomach, and ending with my fluffy skirt.

“Their Majesties the Queen and King require your presence,” he announced to the length of my throat before meeting my waiting eyes once more.

I smirked. Pru reached up, slapped both hands on my lower back, and shoved.

“Hurry, hurry,” she said in a rushed croak. “We’ll be punished if we’re late.”

I frowned down at her. “‘We?’ Why would you be punished if I’m late?”

She pushed me again and I staggered forward, nearly landing in the guard’s arms. He stretched out his hands but didn’t touch me.

“No time. Go.”

“All right, Prunella, I’ll go. Will you be here when I get back?”

Her face pinched. “Of course, Mistress. Where else would I be?”

“Um, I dunno. How about doing something for yourself?”

The confused purse of her lips only grew. She shook her head, limp shoulder-length hair flopping. “Off with you, Mistress.” She shoved me again, and this time I did stumble into the guard’s arms. They were hard and strong, and I allowed myself a moment to linger before slipping out of them.

Prunella would have a breakdown if I didn’t rush to obey the will of my captors. And I wouldn’t see her punished, no matter how absurd the concept that she’d pay for my tardiness to a meeting I never agreed to attend.

“Lead the way, handsome,” I told the guard, who rewarded me with a half-smile devilish enough to hint at a dimple I longed to see in full.

“Off with you before it’s off with your head,” Pru said as the guard was closing the door on her.

“Wow, exaggerate much?” I mumbled, though she wouldn’t hear me. Or at least, I didn’t think she would. A dragon shifter would have, and she was the first goblin I’d ever met.

The guard extended his hand, gesturing that I should go first.

“I don’t know the way.” Duh. Obviously. I was the prisoner here.

“It’s my duty to follow behind you, guarding your body with my life.”

“Then we’re going to be responsible for Pru in there losing her ever loving mind. I have no idea where to go.”

“Pru?” he asked, shaking his head, dismissing his question.

“Walk beside me, then,” I suggested. Besides, that might give me the chance to swipe one of his blades without his notice. I could lure him in with my boobage, putting this blasted corset to good use.

“I’m not allowed.”

I flung both hands in the air. “Could the rules of this place be any more ridiculous?”

Instantly, his head jerked around, searching the hallway for eavesdroppers.

The rules might indeed be stupid, but I liked to think I wasn’t. Whatever the reprimand for not minding my tongue might be was feared even by this man, who moved like every one of his movements might transform into an attack.

Swallowing a heaping pile of impatience, I forced a brittle smile. “If I ‘lead,’ will you at least whisper the directions to me?”

“Of course, milady. As you wish.”

“No need for formalities,” I said, but his response was simply a, “Straight toward the end of this hallway, then take a right.”

Like that it went until we traversed several large halls, some that could accommodate hundreds, and swept across so many stretches of polished stone that I knew I’d never be able to find my way back to the room and the grumpy Pru on my own.

When we finally stopped outside closed double doors flanked by two more guards on each side of them, my protector tensed, steeling himself with a deep breath before knocking.

Instantly, one of the doors swung open, another man dressed not for fighting but in a trim, tidy suit, standing behind it. When he closed the door, he straightened and announced, “Your Majesties, your guest has arrived.”

A wholly unnecessary statement since my eyes were glued to a tall, slender woman with long, flowing hair the exact dark shade as mine. She didn’t bother cracking a smile in greeting.

6. A GIRL IN THEIR WORLD

I held the queen’s stare, everyone else in the room fading away. Her eyes, a startling blue, should have been as warm as a clear, sunny sky. Instead, they were colder than ice. There were peaks in the Nightguard Mountain range balmier than her stare.

The man in the suit cleared his throat, but I wouldn’t look away.

“You’re in the presence of royalty,” Suit chastised. “That is Her Highness Queen Talisa Zafira Tatiana of Embermere whom you’re looking at with such disregard.”

That was a mouthful.

“You must bow,” he added in a tone that brooked no argument.

It only made me wonder all the more, Why should I bow to those responsible for taking and holding me against my will?

“Do it,” he snarled as effectively as any dragon shifter. “Or I shall make you.”

“Now, now, Ivar,” the queen said like a drizzle of honey while shooting eye daggers my way. “No need to get your favorite blade out.” She narrowed those arctic eyes at me. “Yet.”

“Bow,” my guard breathed behind me.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Ivar said while my attention finally dragged to the other side of the room, which appeared to be some kind of parlor, with lush couches, ottomans, and petite round tables.

“That is His Majesty King Consort Oren Amadeo of Embermere, whom you’re also required to bow to.” Ivar’s voice had grown as cold as his mistress’ eyes.

I’d been all but a servant in Nightguard, but at least I hadn’t been asked to bow to anyone. I had to work my tail off, but I didn’t give my allegiance to anyone, especially none so seemingly unworthy of it.

Despite that, I bowed at the waist, making my next breath shallow as my ribs cut it off. I was biding my time, nothing more.

Ivar grunted in evident disapproval.

I glanced his way with a flippant smile that said, Bite me. Did he expect me to kiss their royal feet too?

The king was also tall, with broad shoulders that were slightly bowed as if he carried a great weight on them. His hair was dark too, but dusted with silver in braids that reached halfway down his back. While the queen was in a gown much like mine, though embroidered with enough pearls to make me dizzy at the thought of how long it had taken someone to affix them to her bodice, the king was in a simple, sharp suit. He wore a red sash in a diagonal across his chest, as if he needed the badge to declare him ruler.

“Ivar, leave us,” the queen ordered, drawing my gaze back her way. “You too, Rush, but wait outside the door.”

My guard, Rush, bowed deeply at the waist and slipped out in front of Ivar, who paused to do the same, leaving me alone in the room with an ice queen and her king.

“Sit,” the queen told me.

I stiffened.

Frowning, she swept in front of me, lowering herself with a grace I’d never before witnessed into an armchair, perching at the front of the seat and crossing her feet at the ankles. The ample skirt of her gown settled around her like a streaming waterfall.

Chin held high, I claimed the armchair farthest from her that still faced her. “Your people wounded me when they took me.” That was the only reason I was sitting.

Her brow arched. “Yes, so I’ve been informed.” She said it as one commented about the weather. “Oren,” she added, without looking toward the king.

He sauntered across the parlor, taking the open armchair between us. A lacquered table that seemed too small separated us. Pearlescent flowers were inlaid into the wooden top. At another time, I might have found the craftsmanship beautiful.

“So this is her,” the queen said while scanning me, though clearly addressing the king.

“It would appear so,” he said. “She isn’t as I imagined.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t see someone for most of their lives. They tend to surprise.” She looked at the king then. “At times, people surprise even when you share a life with them.”

The king swallowed, his throat bobbing visibly behind a thin, rounded collar.

“At least she’s pleasing enough to the eye,” the queen added. She studied the old wounds on my arm, as well as the smaller, fainter ones across my chest and neck. “Even with the scarring.”

My jaw hardened. “Where I come from, it’s rude to talk about someone right in front of them and not address them directly.” In truth, in Nightguard, no one had been too concerned about manners or politeness. Even so, they managed to be nicer than these two.

“Oh, we aren’t ignoring you,” she said, her words once more as sticky as honey. I dismissed the need to wipe my exposed skin. “But your input’s unneeded.”

“How do you figure that?”

She smiled, and I instantly wished for it to disappear. “I’ll be deciding your fate. No one else.”

She looked at her husband, who swallowed again.

“No, I won’t—” I began.

“You won’t anything. Now, silent!” she whipped out. “You’re distracting.”

“Well excuse me for⁠—”

“Be silent, or I’ll make sure you regret your impudence.”

I hesitated before asking more timidly than I wanted, “How?”

Her smile broadened. I shuddered. When she noticed, her lips spread into a grin that turned my stomach. “I might need to keep you alive … for now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have you hurt. Disobedience is swiftly punished around here.”

“So I’ve heard. But I don’t owe you allegiance.”

“Oh, but you do.”

“I’m not your subject.”

“That’s where you’re dead wrong. Apparently”—she peered at her husband again, who appeared to be sweating—“you are very much a subject of the Crown.”

“I—”

Her head whipped toward me with enough force to make her neck pop into the otherwise silent temperate air drifting through open windows. “I’ve already told you, persist at your peril. If threatening you doesn’t have the intended effect, I’m quite certain I can find someone to hurt that will convince you. In fact…”

She turned in her seat to face the king. “Send your men back to Nightguard. Bring whomever the girl is closest to.”

He hesitated, but only for the briefest of seconds, before nodding.

“That won’t be necessary,” I said in a rush. “And I’m not a girl. I’m nearly twenty-three.”

That icy stare was back on me. “A girl in our world.”

I opened my mouth. The ferocity of her stare—and her threats—clamped it closed.

“I see she has the manners of her father,” the queen commented. “That will have to be remedied.”

The muscles of my face slackened, and my brow drew up. “You knew my father? Zako Shade?”

A laugh slipped from lips that could have been pleasant but reminded me of the electric eels in the waters of Crestshine Lake.

“No, dear. That man wasn’t your father.”

My heart stopped beating. The pain in my thigh and ribs was suddenly nothing compared to the squeezing of the bloody, pulpy mess in my chest.

“What?” I eked out, uncaring that I was revealing weakness to a woman who would surely use it against me.

“Zako Shade was my husband’s favorite personal guard. His most trusted servant.”

“But then…?” But I didn’t know what to ask. Zako was my father. He’d told me so himself. He’d treated me like a father should, protecting me, caring for me, helping me carve out a safe space in the somewhat inhospitable environment he took me to.

He escaped Embermere with me to protect me. That’s what fathers did—put their children before their own needs.

I shook my head. “No, Zako was my father.”

“Regrettably, that isn’t the case. The king, my husband, fathered you and then hid you.”

No, no, no, no, no.

My gaze swung to the king’s. Shame and regret swirled through his eyes in equal measure as he offered me a tentative smile.

I wanted to set it on fire. Hell, I’d set both of them on fire if someone were to hand me some flint and accelerant.

“Zako was a good man,” the king said. “He was following my orders.”

“Your orders,” I parroted numbly.

“Yes. He was honor bound not to betray my secret. He did as I commanded him.” The king adjusted in his seat, crossing an ankle over his knee and absently rubbing at the fabric of his stupid tailored pants. “I was sorry to hear of his death.”

“You were sorry.”

He scowled. “Yes, that’s what I said. When I didn’t receive my usual annual update from him, I knew something was wrong.”

I sucked in a ragged breath. Zako’s trips he took, every year, to the neighboring town of Crestshine Lake. For as long as I could remember, I’d asked to accompany him. When he considered me old enough to survive the trek, he’d allowed it, but only half the time, claiming his retreats were an essential part of his spiritual practice. He just hadn’t wanted me there to observe his “annual updates.”

I turned to stare out the window. I wouldn’t put it past these two to lie to me if it served them, but how did it? I didn’t think the king was that good of an actor. He was too nervous.

“I know what you must be thinking,” the queen said. “You’re in awe that you’re the secret bastard child of His Majesty King Consort Oren Amadeo of Embermere. What an honor.”

Grimacing, I faced her.

“You are, for better or worse”—she leaned back into her chair—“mostly worse, it would seem, a potential heir to the throne of Embermere.”

“Say what?” I blurted.

Her lips curled in distaste. “Your … heritage has apparently earned you the right to compete to be next in line to inherit … my crown.” Her nose scrunched like she was smelling a butthole.

The king slammed both feet on the area rug in front of him. “Wait a moment. ‘Compete?’ She’s my blood. She doesn’t need to compete for her right to the throne. Now that Saturn is⁠—”

The queen shot to standing so fast that I did too out of instinct, anticipating an attack. My hands shot to my lower back out of habit before remembering my blades weren’t there. My ribs and arrow wounds hurt less though—progress.

“You shall not speak my son’s name,” the queen hissed at the king, who rose now as well.

“Why not? He’s also my son.”

“No, not anymore.” She stabbed an accusatory finger in the air between them. “You betrayed me, which means you betrayed him. And I won’t stand by you betraying my son. Never let his name fall from your lips again.”

The queen’s chest heaved. As did the king’s.

They stared at each other as I deliberated if they’d notice if I backed out of there silently. At least the silly little slippers with the nearly nonexistent soles were good for something, even if they’d be shit in any kind of fight.

Eventually, the queen spoke again. “She may be your blood, but she isn’t my blood. And as you well know, my ancestors, not yours, are the heritage of this kingdom, its power. She will compete for her right to become a successor just like every other hopeful from the fae clans.”

“But,” the king said, “she’s a female.”

So?

“If she’s fated to rule Embermere, she’ll have to be strong as any man.”

“You must mean she’ll compete in the later probatio only…”

“No, all four of them.”

“But Talisa … she’s just a girl.”

I bristled.

“Girls don’t fight in the Gladius Probatio,” the king protested, sounding stunned. “It’s never been done, and for good reason. Not even in Faerie. Never in the Golden Forest, and there the female elves do bear arms.”

“You have only yourself to thank for this first.”

“But … she’ll die.”

“Then she’ll die,” the queen snapped.

7. A CHAMPION OF THE PEOPLE, YADA YADA

The king faced off with the queen. “You can’t be serious.”

The queen’s brows rose slightly, just enough to make me think I was witnessing an unusual interaction between them. Though the king was a few inches taller than his wife, the queen still seemed to tower over him.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.

His nostrils flared for an instant, and a low grunt bubbled up his throat. “We need an heir. That’s what she is. She’s not your blood, sure, but she’s mine, and that’s the second best thing.”

The queen tilted her head back, managing to look down upon the taller man. Though her message was silent, I understood it just the same. The king wasn’t just second-best to the queen. In her estimation, they didn’t even belong on the same pearl-studded pedestal.

The king’s lips pressed into a thin line. Several moments dragged by. “Whatever your thoughts toward me, you can’t refuse our only heir. Not now. Not after⁠—”

“I warned you,” she gnarred. “Don’t say his name.”

He glared at her. “I am Saturn’s father. You can’t⁠—”

“You and I will discuss this matter later.” She pointed her annoyance in my direction. “In private.”

A vein bulged in his temple. “Fine. But, Talisa, we must secure the heirs. You know this as much as I. She might not be ideal, I grant you that, but she’s all we have.”

Wow. The fatherly pride was out of this world. With a pang in my chest, I missed Zako. Had he really lied to me all those years? Had the one person I’d trusted implicitly actually betrayed me?

“Rush shows great promise,” the queen said. “He’ll choose a bride that will support our reign until such time as I’m ready to step down.”

“But Rush isn’t blood.”

“He isn’t, but he has my trust.”

Intrigue swelled in the king’s gaze for a moment, sparking my curiosity as well. Rush, the same Rush who’d stood as sentry outside my door?

“Then the girl can marry him,” the king said, “and then both problems are solved.”

“You’re not referring to me, are you?” I asked, unable to remain quiet any longer. “I mean, I’m not a girl, and I’m definitely not going to be marrying anybody, so probably not, but just in case…”

Neither monarch looked my way.

“No,” the queen said, and relief buzzed through me that they didn’t intend to keep me against my will and force me to marry some stranger to boot.

“She doesn’t have my trust,” the queen said. “Rush does.”

“What’s he done to earn it?” the king asked, apparently equally content to ignore me. As far as I could remember, Zako hadn’t once ignored me. Even when he was busy, he’d at least pause to assure me we’d talk later.

The queen spun, her skirt flaring out around her until she sauntered toward the window, staring out of it.

“Talisa?” the king nudged, walking slowly in her direction.

She turned, fingers alighting over the slim tiara-like crown she wore. It was delicate and adorned with pearls that also dripped down in feminine strands to frame her face. “As you say, my darling, she’s your blood. If she proves her worth, I’ll consider marrying her to Rush. But only if it’s best for the kingdom—under no other circumstances. The pairing’s too important to take into account your feelings toward a bastard child.”

Was being called “girl” when I was obviously a woman more or less insulting than “bastard child?” I couldn’t decide.

“Oh, good.” The king’s shoulders sagged with a relief I no longer came close to experiencing. “Then she’ll compete only in the second probatio onward, and even then solely for show. We do know how very important appearances are.” He smiled what I assumed would be charmingly to someone who didn’t want to kick him in the balls like I did. So he couldn’t spawn any more bastard children.

“That’s precisely why she must compete in the Gladius Probatio.”

“The competition you think’s gonna kill me,” I inserted.

She sneered at me. “Don’t interrupt.”

“Then don’t plan out my life while you pretend I’m invisible.”

“I don’t think you’re invisible,” she snarled, looking down at me now. “I can’t help but remember you.” She scowled at her husband. “And his betrayal.”

“Remain quiet, child,” the king barked, and every muscle in my body tensed. I waggled my fingers with the desire to throw a blade at his face.

He plastered on a wheedling smile for the queen’s benefit, approaching her, arms out to the sides in entreaty. “No female ever competes in the coliseum for very good reason. If you just want to see her butchered, then why bother with all this pretense?”

“Oh, Oren, I don’t want to see her butchered.” Her smile seemed genuine, but the glint in her eyes didn’t. “I’d really rather she not have to prove herself. But you know the great weight of the responsibility that lies on my shoulders. The entirety of Embermere and the very Mirror World itself depend on me. It’s my sworn duty to make the best decisions for the kingdom and the many fae who live within it, and that has nothing to do with my personal preferences.”

I coughed to prevent myself from commenting.

The queen ambled around the parlor, distancing herself from the king. “The integrity of the kingdom and the magic of this land depend on the power of its heirs. I can’t in good conscience approve this stranger, who knows nothing of our ways, without evidence that she’s up for the job.” In a languorous sweep, she faced him. “Doesn’t that make sense, my dear?” She blinked in evident feminine exaggeration. “My hand is forced here. It’s what must be done. Destiny’s at play, not me.”

Surely the king wasn’t buying this load of steaming dragonshit…

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. He flipped a slim braid behind his shoulder. “Your burden is great, darling. I don’t know why I forget it.”

He eased close to her, lowering his mouth to her ear. “Allow me to ease it for you.”

The queen dipped her head and gazed up at him from beneath darkened lashes. Her smile was coy. “You do help me forget my worries.”

“Yes, I do.” The king leaned in as if to kiss her.

She pulled back, a hand to her chest, a giggle erupting as if from a devious bird. “Duty first, darling.” She sighed long and belabored. “Isn’t that always the way?”

She reclaimed her seat, once more crossing her ankles. The coquettish mask slipped from her face. “No one can know who she is or her connection to you. They can’t know she’s your bastard child.”

I ran my tongue along my teeth, wishing they were sharper.

His chin jerked back into his neck. “Why ever not? The honor will afford her an immediate place among the courtiers. She’ll fill the void left by Saturn’s death.”

A lethal stillness came over the queen. I must have gotten my intelligence from my mother.

“It must be secret,” the queen continued with a chill that could flash freeze a beating heart in its chest cavity. “For her protection.” Her mouth hardened. “And yours.”

The king took his seat again too, perching on the edge of it, his hands clasped between his knees. “How do you mean? How will her existence endanger me?”

“Well, my dear husband…” With the deceptively relaxed movements of a stretching dragon, she swiveled toward him. “If she disappoints and isn’t strong enough to become an heir, then you’ll get caught up in the scandal of her failure. You know how failure is.”

His nose scrunched up like an accordion. “Yes, I surely do. It’s like a bad odor that sticks to everything in close proximity.”

“Exactly. You know I’m only looking out for you, Oren. If she loses and dies during the culling, then no one will ever be the wiser.”

“The fae still talk.”

“That’s precisely why I’ll call on Braque before I dismiss her.”

“‘Dismiss me?’” I blurted. “Seriously? How about I do us all a favor and leave right the dragonfire now?”

I began walking toward the closed door. “I’ve heard about all I can take of this. I’m not going to keep letting you treat me like I’m some object. I might be your prisoner for the moment, but I get to choose what I stand for.”

I reached for the door handle when a force I’d never experienced stilled me in mid-motion. I strained to keep going, but my legs held me rooted to the stone floor.

Twisting at the waist, and wincing at the consequent tugs on my wounds, I stared behind me.

The queen offered me a smile I had no difficulty believing was real. “You won’t be going anywhere until I’m finished with you.”

“Let me go,” I bit out.

The queen told the king: “See what I mean? Do you really want to be associated with this level of insolence? It’d be the talk of the day for weeks.”

She beckoned me with two fingers, and though I resisted with all my strength of will, I found my body turning in her direction, my feet moving of her accord. When this power she held over me deposited me in the empty armchair, her smile turned predatory. I might have flinched at the sudden realization of exactly whom I was dealing with, but I couldn’t even do that on my own.

She slid forward on her seat so that she barely rested upon it. “I am queen of the fae. Queen of the entire Mirror World. The land’s magic is tied to me and me alone. I have more power than you can conceive of in that”—she seemed to swallow an insult for her husband’s sake—“mind of yours. You’re new to our world and way of doing things, and so this one time, for my beloved husband’s sake, I’ll graciously pardon your outbursts.” Her gaze held mine with the strength of a dozen dragons. “But I won’t be so forgiving next time.”

With a flick of her fingers, she released me. I sagged against the chair.

“You won’t tell anyone you’re in any way connected to the king or to me. As far as they all will know, you’ll be just another lady of the fae clans.”

“And how will we explain how they’ve never seen her before?” the king asked. I clearly also got my backbone from my mother, whoever she was.

“She’ll hail from Forzantos. A lesser-known viscountess to whom I granted the privilege of attending the tournament. The Forzantos clan will see it as an honor, too much to split hairs about the obscure family down by the moors that she comes from.”

“Hmm, yes, that will work,” the king said. “No one will question her place here if she’s at court upon your personal invitation.”

“Precisely. No one will look too closely when I distract them.”

“And you’re ever so skilled at creating distractions.”

She laughed. “Aren’t I though?” She smoothed a hand over her skirt. “Besides, this will protect her as well. Should anyone discover she’s connected to the royal court, then her life would be in danger.”

The king ran his teeth along his lip. “You don’t think anyone would purposefully target her, do you?”

She stared at him, blinking with intent.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he admitted. “If the prince heir…” He trailed off.

The queen nodded at his unspoken train of thought. “The only way to keep you and her safe is to conceal her identity. No one can know. No one can even suspect.”

“Unless she becomes the female champion of the Gladius Probatio,” he said, his suggestion deflated.

“Of course. Unless she wins. And then the announcement will be properly managed.”

“You really expect her to fight?”

The queen arched even dark brows at him. “Do you really expect me to accept your bastard child as a legitimate heir to the throne without some testing of her abilities? She isn’t even full-blooded fae, Oren. She had a slim chance to become heir from the start, no matter that you managed to … create her … without my knowledge.”

“Very well. Then she needs to train to fight.”

“I know how to fight,” I said. “That Dougal guy had my blades taken from me. I need them back.”

Both rulers stared at me.

“What? Surely you’ve seen a woman fight before,” I hedged.

“No, never,” the king said.

“We women fight in a different way,” the queen explained. “We don’t need brawn to claim victory in our battles.”

In Nightguard, several of the shifters who protected the dragons were women. “But,” I started before stopping, “if it’s so rare for a woman to fight, then won’t it be weird if I’m competing in this … tournament thing?”

The queen considered me. “Perhaps the girl has some of your brains after all, Oren.” She nodded, her crown not sliding an inch, though I could spot no pins keeping it in place. More magic? How often were enchantments used in Embermere? I should have asked Zako more questions about the place, so many more.

“Braque will glamor her,” the queen continued. “She’ll fight incognito.” She tapped her lips with a slender finger. All but the smallest on that hand were wrapped in bejeweled rings. Dazzling blue, red, violet, and green gems glimmered in the diffuse sunlight.

The queen’s face brightened as she tapped her lips some more. “She’ll be a pity pick. A champion of the people, a chance for all to rise, to prove themselves worthy of ruling, yada yada. Equality and all that nonsense.”

“And if she wins?” the king asked.

The queen scoffed. “If she were to perform miracles and win, then I’ll be the fair ruler who hid her identity so no one would give her any unfair advantage. It’s the perfect plan.”

The king tipped up his chin. “I want Rush to train her.”

“No,” the queen said at once. “He’s too busy to babysit losing prospects.”

“He isn’t too busy to guard her though, despite his many other … duties.”

“It was only till I was certain of the circumstances. Or do you hold it against me that I at once took action to protect you and your bastard child? Your interests, not mine?”

“Of course not, my queen. I appreciate that you’d put your best man on the job.”

“And so I shall continue dictating his best uses.”

So I wasn’t the only one lucky enough to be discussed like an object.

“If she must fight,” the king insisted, “then I will see her trained by the best of the best. At least give her a chance, however slim it might be.”

The queen was silent as her discernment scanned the length of my body. I straightened my back under her scrutiny.

“If you no longer need him to guard her,” the king added, “then he’ll be free to teach her.”

“He’ll need to prepare for the tournament himself.” But her usual aggression was absent.

The king snorted a huff. “Rush can’t get any better than he already is and you know it, Talisa. All the betting odds place him as the champion.”

“All right, then. Rush will train her. But even he won’t know who she is.”

“Very well.” The king made as if to stand. “Are we finished?”

“For now.”

He stood, tugging on his suit jacket.

“Wait,” I said. “I have so many questions.”

The blank looks I got suggested I wasn’t going to get my answers.

In a rush, I spat out, “Am I still a prisoner? And if so, for how long? And if I’m not, am I free to roam the palace and city? Who is my mother? And are you sure Zako isn’t my father?” Unwilling to conceal my disappointment, I glanced at the king.

The queen tsked as if I were the child they kept accusing me of being, and a disobedient one at that. “If you had half the intelligence your king does, you’d see your questions have already been answered. All but one.”

She rose and faced the king. “Her mother.”

The king met her waiting stare, then hastily flicked his attention toward the wall that held the window between portraits of the queen and a younger man, who also wore a crown. Saturn.

“Her mother was a human. A nobody. A silly distraction that meant nothing then and means even less now.”

“Wow,” I snapped. “Really? That’s what you have to say about my mom?”

I’d never before thought of her as mom. I hadn’t needed to, not when I had Zako.

“After not knowing anything about you my entire life,” I continued, “the least you could have done is invited me to meet you, not stolen me and shot me to get me here. And you could have at least said hello and called me by name. I have a name, you know.”

The king faced me, the light from the window backlighting his expression. Even the shadows couldn’t disguise his scorn. “I know your name, child. I gave it to you.”

“But…” The way Zako had said it, with affection, I’d always assumed he’d been the one to name me. Then again, I’d also assumed he’d been my father. A lie big enough to blow a hole through my heart. “You did?” I eventually asked of the king.

“Elowyn Xiomara”—the queen jerked—“Ashira of Embermere. A name worthy of an heir to this great kingdom.”

“Xiomara,” the queen breathed. “You named her after … my mother.”

The king stalked toward her, giving me his back as he knelt and took the queen’s hands. She held his stare, the malice gone from hers.

“Of course I named her after your mother,” he said. “In all my actions, I’ve honored you.”

She scowled, the malice reemerging. “I’m glad to know you can ‘honor me’ while screwing another woman.”

She shook her hands free of his.

“I’ve made mistakes,” he implored. “I won’t deny that. But I realized it and fixed it.”

“By naming your bastard child after my mother,” she deadpanned.

I really didn’t get my smarts from this guy. Whatever kind of human my mother was, she’d given me more than ears rounder than either of these two fae.

“Yes, of course.” He reached for her hands again. She folded them in her lap, offering him a brittle smile.

“This girl might be your blood, but that’s enough talk in front of her. Go tell Ivar to fetch Braque for me.”

“You’re going to have him glamor her already?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty self, Oren. I’ll take care of it all as usual. Go, enjoy your day.”

He waffled though his dismissal couldn’t have been much clearer.

She arched her brows at him, and he claimed his feet, walking slowly toward the door.

Before I realized I was going to ask a thing, the words were slipping from my lips. The king was almost at the exit. “If Zako hadn’t died”—I wasn’t reckless enough to mention Saturn—“would you have sent men for me? Did you ever plan on seeing me?”

The king stopped, fingers fiddling with his sash. “No.” Without so much a backward glimpse, he slipped through the door.

I stared blankly at where he’d disappeared until a few minutes later the man who was apparently Braque entered.

Snapping my attention on him, I wouldn’t drop my guard. Power seemed to crackle in the air around him.

8. THE WALLS HAVE EARS

Braque had been in the parlor with the queen and me for a total of thirty seconds when I decided I’d do everything in my power to avoid being in his presence. After bowing to the queen, his keen gaze raked over me.

Since I was stuck there with him, I returned the favor, looking up at him from my seat. He was shorter than me by at least a hand, but what he lacked in height he made up for in bulk. He was plump, dressed in a prim suit that had been obviously tailored to his unique dimensions. His belly was too large for his frame, bulging in the front. Even the discrete buttons and rich fabric that fell elegantly across the swell couldn’t hide that everything the man consumed seemed to bypass every other part of his body to settle in his belly.

With small, shiny loafers, bright stockings hugging prominent calves, dark blond curls, and round, rosy cheeks, he reminded me of a drunken cherub—and also perhaps a toy top.

It was his eyes, however, that swept away any comparison to something innocuous. They were chips of obsidian. Darker than any dragon’s eyes I’d ever seen, and not simply because of their color.

“This is the one you were telling me about, Your Majesty?” he asked the queen while holding my stare. His tone managed to be both obsequious and disdainful at once. Already it was burrowing under my skin like a tick.

The queen leaned against the back of her armchair, more relaxed than when the king had been there. “It is.” She joined him in studying me, as if she hadn’t stared her fill already. “You’ll proceed as we’ve already discussed.”

“Of course, my queen. Shall I begin now?”

“Yes.”

I jerked forward. “Wait a minute. What’s he gonna do exactly? And how did you already give him directions when you only just talked everything through with the king?”

His Mighty Royal Highness might have shot his seed into my mother, but there was so much more to being a father than that.

Braque glanced at the queen, his cherry lips puckered as a giggle trickled out of him. “Is she for real?”

The queen sighed while rubbing at a strand of her loose hair. “Regrettably. Do you see what I’m saddled with?”

“It’s truly unfair, Your Majesty.”

“Yo,” I said, “I asked a question.”

The queen’s mouth fell into bored lines. “You asked two, actually.”

“Okay, two, then. Are you gonna answer them?”

“No. I owe you nothing.”

“Oh really?” My stomach tightened as I wished I had at least one of my blades right then. “You order my friends captured, keep me from leaving, and threaten me on top of it all, and you owe me nothing?”

Braque chuckled again while admiring his manicured nails. I could strangle him…

The queen slid toward the front of her chair, leaning toward me across the petite table that could accommodate no more than a few cups of tea. “You’re finally catching on. In Embermere, I do as I wish.”

“You do as you wish in the entire Mirror World, Your Highness,” Braque added while smiling his adoration at the woman. He’d probably bend to kiss her royal ass next.

“I command it all,” the queen said, “so no, I owe you no explanations, nothing more than what I deem. If I wish, I can have you killed and not lose a wink of sleep over it.”

“I’m the king’s daughter.”

“And my life would be much easier without having to deal with the inconvenience that my husband’s indiscretion has caused. You should be grateful that I’m generous.”

“How do you figure?” I asked.

“You’ll be my guest at the court until such time as you…” She studied the rings on her fingers with the kind of disinterest that suggested we were discussing items on a dinner menu. “Well, you know.”

“Until I die, you mean?”

She smiled. “Finally we understand each other.”

I shook my head. “No wonder Zako left this place.”

Her smile fell. “He left this place because the king commanded him to. The fae of Embermere know their place. They take orders without question, as shall you.”

“I shall do no such thing.”

She waved her hand in Braque’s direction. “Commence.”

I shot to standing. “Wait. What do I get out of it if I do win this tournament?”

Braque let out a delighted squeal that built to a crescendo before fading. I was definitely going to strangle him at my earliest opportunity, along with Dougal.

Nostrils flaring, I glared at the little man, who grew smaller with each time he spoke or laughed. “If and when I win—” I faced the queen. “—do I earn my freedom?”

She tipped her head to one side, seeming to consider.

I pressed. “If I’m going to be risking my life, seems like I should at least get something out of the deal at the end of it.” I straightened my shoulders. “I win and I get to leave here, return to Nightguard or go wherever I want.”

“Cute, but no. If you do somehow win⁠—”

“Which she won’t,” Braque interjected.

“Which she won’t,” the queen agreed before looking back at me. “But if you manage it by some stroke of the fates, then you’ll earn my surprise.”

“Your surprise,” I repeated.

“Yes, along with the chance to continue competing to earn your place as heir to my crown.”

“She doesn’t deserve the magnitude of that honor, my queen,” Braque said.

“I don’t want to be heir or queen,” I said.

“Good.” The queen stood. “Then we understand each other.”

“No, we don’t understand each other at all. Why should I be prisoner here, forced to do what you want, just because the king⁠—”

“Enough,” the queen said with another fluid wave of her hand. “I’ve grown tired of this talk. Braque.”

“Right away, Your Highness. She’s truly most tiresome, isn’t she? The sooner she’s gone, the better.”

A small satchel rested against his waist, partially concealed by his belly, its long strap crossing over his chest. He flipped up its flap and dug inside, emerging with a minute potion bottle much like the one Sandor had used against me earlier. It was made of delicate glass and filled with a swirling liquid that glowed like the sun at midday. He unscrewed its lid, allowed several tendrils of the potion to rise like smoke from the bottle, then blew them at my face.

Immediately, all sound muted, as if I’d gone deaf. The silence was terrifying and loud.

His lips were moving but I didn’t hear a thing. He threw his head back in what seemed like that irritating chime of laughter of his, but I was spared that too.

The queen flicked her fingers in my direction and my legs walked back to the chair until my butt slammed into it. Rooted to the spot, I could do nothing but watch as the pink-cheeked fae removed bottle after bottle from his purse, blowing tendrils of all colors at my face.

When at last he opened the bottle with the sunshine again, he muttered some silent words that drew the two tendrils back to it. Like mesmerized dragons, they wove and meandered until the glass once more contained the entirety of the potion.

My hearing returned in a rush. Sounds I hadn’t noticed before were loud: birds chirped outside the open window; people shuffled beyond the closed doors, speaking in hushed whispers; somewhere in the distance plates clattered against each other, and a cat purred.

Free of the queen’s hold, I rocketed to my feet, wanting to strike out at her, at the bothersome little man, at anything—someone. But there was nothing to do when I didn’t yet understand the true ramifications of my actions. Talk was cheap, experience far better. The queen seemed like the kind of person all too ready to follow through on her threats. She might not have anyone I cared about in her possession—yet—and dragonfire, the king might not follow through on her command to retrieve some leverage from Nightguard. But why take the risk when it seemed unlikely to get me anywhere? If I was patient enough, the better opportunity would arrive. Sooner or later, it always did.

“What did you do to me?” I demanded of both of them, my fingers drawing into fists all on their own.

Braque giggled, then bowed to the queen. “I’ll send Rush in now.”

“Thank you, Braque.”

She turned her back to me and gazed out the window, ignoring every question I had until Rush sauntered in, sharp eyes roving over me even before turning to the queen.

The walk back to my chambers was similar to our travel to the queen’s parlor, with one notable exception. This time, we passed a host of courtiers, all gathered in the halls along my route with no other apparent reason than to gawk at the newcomer.

Their dress was garish and loud, their faces painted with bright hues to match and hair pulled back into an assortment of complex plaits and twists. So many sets of eyes, rimmed in kohl, were pinned on me. Their attention trailed every one of my steps like the cold of an arctic breeze. Hissing whispers, like the incessant buzzing of insects, lingered long after I disappeared from sight.

They weren’t the only ones to stare. Rush once more insisted it was unseemly for him to lead me, and that I had to go in front. But I wondered if he might not have another reason to insist on the blind leading the man who knew the way perfectly fine.

His attention burned against my back in a singular way that distinguished it from the curiosity of others. Where his eyes traveled, my skin tingled, as if it were actually his touch that skimmed the stretches of exposed flesh. As if his large hands were squeezing my ass beneath my skirt.

When we swept through an empty stretch of hall, I tilted my head over my shoulder. “What does this Braque guy do? He blew this potion at me and then⁠—”

“Not here.”

I rolled my eyes and barely managed to hold in a grumble. “Fine. What next?”

“A left at the end of this hall.”

By the time we finally arrived at my door, his stare had spread the heat from my skin to my insides, and my impatience was worn so thin it scarcely existed.

At last he moved in front of me and pushed open the door. I walked inside, and he began to close it behind me.

I spun, hand slapping to the door to keep it open. “Wait. No. I need to talk to you.”

He scanned up and down the hall. Blessedly, no nosy fae had followed us here.

“There’s no one here,” I noted unnecessarily.

But he only pressed his lips together until their bright color faded from the pressure and shook his head. “The walls have ears,” he breathed.

“Shit. Really? I mean, like, for real?”

When his eyes met mine, the hint of a dimple was in his cheeks. “Not quite, but you’d be wise to think of it that way.”

“It’d be no stranger than what’s really been going on.” I stepped back. “Come in, then.”

“I can’t. The queen⁠—”

“For just a minute.” When he flashed another peek up and down the hall, I added, “Please. I’m so out of my league I have no idea what to make of anything. Like, why do they have dragons’ heads on pillars here? It’s barbaric.”

“Shhhh,” he hissed. With a final look at our surroundings, he slipped inside my room and shut the door behind us. His eyes were wide, his brows furrowed. “You don’t want to be caught saying anything in defense of the dragons.”

“Why not? Who’d kill them like that? And why? They’re nice creatures.” Memories of how I’d received my many scars flashed through my mind. “Okay, never mind. Maybe they’re not nice, but they aren’t horrible and vicious.” Another memory, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself from amending again. “They surely don’t deserve being killed and put on display like that.”

“Don’t repeat that to anyone.”

“But—”

“If you value your life, you won’t mention the dragons again.”

I flung my hands in the air. “But I grew up with them!”

His head jerked. “You did?”

“I did.”

“What … what was that like? No, you know what, never mind. I shouldn’t be here. I have to go.”

“I thought you were supposed to guard me.”

“Not anymore. I’m to return to the queen for my new orders.”

“Well, I think that’s for—” I frowned. “That’s for—” That’s for me. I think the queen’s going to tell you to keep guarding me, but other me. The most ludicrous farce I’d ever heard of…

But the words wouldn’t come out.

Experimenting, I switched tactics. “The king’s—” my father. “The queen’s making me—” fight in the tournament, where she thinks I’ll die. Yeah, she’s a real fuzzy peach.

Rush blinked at me. “Are you okay?”

“No. Most definitely not.”

He blew out a breath. “Okay, well, not sure what I can do about that, but if I don’t get to the queen fast, she’ll have my head.”

A nervous laugh flew out of me. “Surely you don’t mean that literally.”

“Yeah, right.” His laugh seemed sarcastic. “A word of advice? Treat the queen as you would one of the dragons. Give her wide berth if you can, and if she tells you to do something, do it. She won’t give you a second chance, at least not one she won’t make you pay a steep price for.”

He turned, then stopped. “And don’t ever tell anyone I told you anything about dragons.”

“That’s easy. You didn’t really tell me anything about them.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

He pulled open the door.

“But I still have so many questions,” I said in a hurry.

“I’m sorry, um … I don’t know your name.”

“Elowyn. It’s Elowyn. And you’re Rush.”

He smiled, and for a quick instant his eyes lit up. He bowed as deeply as he had for the monarchs. “Rush Vega, at your service.”

“Unless I have questions, and then not so much.”

He barked a laugh. My feet shuffled toward him as if entirely on their own.

“I’ll catch you later, Elowyn.”

Before I’d gotten enough of the mischief in his smile, he was gone, and I was staring at the door.

“Hurry, hurry,” croaked a squeaky, rough voice, and I jumped and yelped, turning to find the goblin behind me when she hadn’t been there a moment before.

Hand to my chest, I breathed. “Pru, you can’t scare me like that. If I had my knives I might’ve hurt you.”

“Doubtful. Females like you don’t fight.”

“Yeah, so I keep hearing,” I grumbled, heading toward the bench at the foot of the bed.

“What’s Mistress doing?” Pru asked.

“Um, I’ve had a long-ass day, and I’m gonna kick off these stupid slippers and close my eyes for a bit.”

The goblin ran toward me on short, gangly legs. Her dragon feet slapped the floor. As soon as she was within reach, she slipped her hand under my skirt and pinched the hell out of my leg.

“Ow! What’d you do that for?”

“No time to sit. No time to rest. We must hurry. If we’re late, it’ll be off with our heads.”

“I just got here. Where are we going now?”

“Into the walls. Run, run, into the walls we go.”

9. RUN, RUN, OR OFF GO THE HEADS

I gawked at Pru. “‘Into the walls?’ What’ve you been drinking, and can I have some? I could use a break from trying to figure everything out. I have so many questions. Did you know the queen has some kind of magic that can take control of my body?”

One moment I was shuddering at the memory of my limbs moving of someone else’s accord, and the next Pru was gripping my hand with the strength of a warrior a dozen times her size and dragging me across the bedroom.

I planted my feet but the resistance did me no good. My useless slippers simply slid across the polished wood floor like skates, making me long yet again for some helpful footwear—like my boots, confiscated along with my weapons, dammitall.

Without so much as a grunt, the pint-sized goblin lugged me into the armoire and released my hand to hop onto a stool, presumably placed there so she could organize my closet. I leaned against the open door as she yanked several handfuls of dresses to one side, sliding their hangers along a bar, to reveal a door cut out from the wall behind them. The exit had no frame, just an outline in the plaster.

I pushed off from the doorway. “Ohhhhh.”

The opening was only half my size, but I could squeeze through it in a crouch.

“Go, go, go,” Pru barked in a shrill command. “Or it’ll be off with⁠—”

“Our heads. Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said.”

What Pru didn’t realize was that there was little that would keep me from heading through that gateway. It could very well be my means of escape.

I bolted through the mysterious entrance into a round tunnel that grew pitch dark the moment Pru pulled the door closed behind us with a soft groan.

My breath hitched as the walls pressed in on me from all sides. Even the floor rose, attempting to fold me in on myself like a fan.

Pru blew a breath behind me, and a glowing orb that could rest in the palm of my hand zipped ahead to bob in the air in front of us.

“Oh…” My chest expanded, the weight of the earth lifting off me. “That’s cool. And pretty.”

“What won’t be pretty is when the queen lops our heads off for dilly-dallying. Get a move on.”

Since there was only one way forward, at least I didn’t need Rush behind me discreetly whispering directions. I ran as fast as I could in a squat, wondering what Rush’s story was. Because there was no doubt there was a story there I wanted to hear. His eyes spoke volumes in a language I didn’t yet understand.

Pru barked succinct instructions, guiding me through a vast network of tunnels that seemed capable of traversing the entirety of the palace.

“How far do these reach?” I asked.

“No time for questions. Hurry, hurry.”

I scowled at her though she wouldn’t see my annoyance, continuing to follow that orb of hers that glowed the color of burning embers.

The goblin’s breath warmed my bent back. “Go faster, or it’s off with our heads, Mistress.”

I adjusted my hold on my skirt, hitching it higher. “I’m moving as fast as I can. In case it escaped your notice, the tunnels are a tight fit for me. Where are we even going, anyway?”

“To the queen’s parlor.”

I stopped, craning my neck to peer down at her. “But … I was just there.”

“As Mistress Elowyn Xiomara Ashira of Embermere, yes, I know.”

My brow scrunched. “How do you know that?”

She slapped at my legs as if I were a steed she wanted to bolt forward at a canter. I frowned until I was certain she noticed my displeasure, then turned and continued walking. My spine began to ache from the deep curve I couldn’t straighten from.

“How do you know that?” I insisted.

“I’m a goblin.”

“Yeeeeees. I couldn’t help but notice. And…?”

“And I’m good at paying attention. Something I wish you were.”

“What do you mean? I’m paying plenty of attention. I’m rushing through a freaking tunnel right now, heading toward a room I was literally just in, doing what you tell me to do.” My lips pressed together. “Like an idiot.”

“The queen will have our heads if we aren’t faster.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right. You need some new lines.”

“New … lines?” Pru asked.

“Yeah. The queen’s obviously not gonna cut off our heads for being late, when we’re literally running toward her with no good reason other than that she snaps her fingers and expects us to heed. Well, no matter what she thinks, I’m not her little lapdog.” Like Malessa’s. The shifter might have been nearly as tough and unrelenting as the dragons she defended, but she had a tender spot for Shou-shou, her fluffball whose bark was meeker than a dragon’s claw.

All I heard was the sound of my breathing. “Pru?”

This time when she spoke, the militant commander was absent. Her tone was soft, like a melancholy frog mourning the loss of its mate. “Then you don’t know the queen.”

“Of course I don’t know the queen. How could I? All I know is she seems to think there’s no problem with her holding me here against my will.”

“Take a right,” Pru said.

I took the turn. “Wait, you don’t actually mean the queen would really cut off our heads, do you?”

When Pru didn’t answer, I laughed. When her silence drew out, I twisted to look at her again, but she only slapped me. I ran forward.

“You’re serious,” I said, no longer a question.

“Whatever the queen wants, the queen does,” Pru whispered, though we couldn’t possibly be overheard in here.

Could we? Rush had said the walls have ears, but not literal ones…

“Whatever her will in Embermere, it’s done.” Her words barely reached me.

My heart was suddenly heavy, like a stone. “And the king?”

“I’ve said too much. We’re nearly there.”

“Okay. But ya can’t leave me hanging.”

Apparently, she could.

“What—”

“Shhhh,” she hissed. “No more. Run, run, run.”

“Run, run, run,” I repeated sourly, allowing my frustration to come out in a taunting imitation of her voice.

She didn’t fall for it, not saying anything else until she yanked on my leg to pull me to a stop.

“Hey,” I protested, but she was brushing past me, rapping on the tunnel wall with a fast knock- knock-knock. Even with the help of her glowing ember, I couldn’t make out a reason why we’d be standing here … until the wall opened inward with a rush of air.

Mouth dropping, I blinked at the doorway that had materialized in front of me. “Is this magic?”

True to her nature, Pru shoved me through the opening. Decades of training and conditioning guided me to snap my head down just in time not to bonk it against the rock. The moment I was through, I whirled on the goblin, a glare at the ready.

“You’re late,” pronounced a voice behind me I immediately recognized as belonging to the obsequious Ivar. I turned to point my ready glower at him instead.

He turned his nose up at me and clapped his hands in a come now, child.

I narrowed my eyes at him as Pru rushed to stand beside me, stretching to her full height.

The queen sat on the edge of a settee, leaning over an oblong table of polished wood and more pearl inlay, sipping at a dainty cup of tea. “Do you need another reminder of what happens when you don’t obey me?” the queen asked with the kind of disinterest that gave me no clues as to whether she was addressing me or Pru.

Pru, however, stiffened beside me, one of her dragon feet twitching. She bowed low. “No, Your Highness. I’ll make sure we aren’t late next time.”

“See that you do, Primrose.”

Primrose? In a million years, I never would have guessed that was the creature’s name. There was nothing prim or rosy about her.

The queen took an elegant sip, gazing in the direction of the still open window. “How does Edsel fare?”

Primrose tensed all over again, swallowing before replying. “About the same, Your Majesty.” Though the words seemed to claw their way up her throat, she added, “Thank you for inquiring about him.”

“Of course.” The queen glanced at us, a modest smile on her face that broadcast I am magnanimous so effectively that I imagined the woman must practice the expression in a mirror. “You’re dismissed.”

Primrose was already bowing when I blurted, “You can’t blame her for being late when she made me run over here the second I entered my room.”

Ivar gasped, and Primrose choked on her spit, doing her best to cough quietly.

Regardless, I added, “I don’t even see how we can be late when we hurried all the way here. It’s unreasonable.”

The queen’s mouth was no longer magnanimous but slanted into a line so hard and dangerous that I swallowed whatever else I’d been about to say.

When the queen only did her best to stare a hole straight through my face, Ivar cleared his throat and stalked between me and the queen. “With your leave, Your Highness,” he said, spinning on me. “Your behavior is egregious. Intolerable. Offensive. No one speaks to Her Majesty the Queen of Embermere in this way—no one.” Casually, over his shoulder, he asked, “Off with her head?”

“Hmmm,” the queen said as if considering his suggestion.

“You can’t … you can’t be serious,” flew out of my mouth. Warmth burned the side of my face. I guessed Primrose was doing her best to telepathically communicate with me to shut the hell up.

I was never good at taking orders though, of any kind. Every dragon shifter from Nightguard would no doubt agree.

The queen unfurled from atop the settee like a serpent unwinding itself before slithering across the floor. Her eyes locked on mine with such ferocity that I began to wonder how far her magic extended. Could she cook me to death from the inside out? Could she fry my eyes to a crisp?

Zako hadn’t told me anything about her, omitting her entirely. He’d only mentioned the king in passing, as if he were just one more fact about Embermere.

Information was better than riches. I’d never been poorer.

The queen stopped so close to me that our chests nearly touched. Her breath stayed even; mine came more swiftly despite my determination not to reveal that she was getting to me.

What did I owe her? Absolutely nothing! She hadn’t done a single thing to earn my respect.

Her eyes hardened into chips of ice as her hand lashed out toward my face, fast as a viper’s strike. I yanked my head out of reach—but nothing happened.

My body refused to respond to my commands. I grunted as I pulled with all my might against her invisible hold on me. Her fingers dug into my cheeks and jaw as if she meant to burrow through my flesh.

Her eyes were a fearsome shade of blue and murder.

Without letting up the tension crushing my jaw, she leaned forward until her nose nearly kissed mine.

“I can and I will do whatever I want. I am the queen of everything within Embermere, the fae clan territories, the Wilds … the entire Mirror World. That includes you.”

She squeezed harder. I struggled to swallow, my tongue thick. My cheeks ached; I’d surely bruise.

Her ice eyes vibrating, she stared at me. I could do nothing but glare back.

Every muscle in my body pulsed with the need to lash out, to defend, to attack. She might think she was the best thing to ever walk this earth, but she could still be killed. All it would take was a swipe of a well-placed blade and her blood would gush just as with anyone else.

I hoped that was the case, anyhow. It had to be. If not … well, if not, I understood why everyone I’d met was afraid of her.

A knock on the double doors garnered a quiet yelp from Primrose that sounded like a hiccup. Ivar jogged over to open it, whispering beyond it before shutting it quickly again. To the queen he said, “He’s here, Your Highness,” as he passed.

The queen’s nostrils flared for a single breath. She squeezed my cheeks so hard that I felt flesh begin to give way—before she released her hold on me, both tangible and invisible, not a moment too soon.

Tipping up my chin, I refused to allow her to see how much she’d gotten to me. I willed the tremor building through my body not to release.

“Out of consideration for the king, I won’t cut off your head.” She scanned me up and down, her lips curling in distaste. “Yet.”

“She’ll be dead soon anyway,” Ivar chimed, his prediction of my demise disturbingly chipper. “She won’t survive the trials.”

The queen’s shoulders relaxed as she stepped away to meander around the parlor. “True enough. I need only be patient.”

“You shouldn’t have to be, my queen, if it isn’t imprudent of me to say. The girl should show you the honor you deserve.”

“I am,” I muttered under my breath.

Everyone in the room became as rigid as a board despite my volume.

The queen spun around and zoomed toward me with inhuman speed. “No one’s beyond my reach. Certainly not you. You get this one pass today as a favor to the king. He’ll owe me yet one more. But know this, push me again and you will regret it. Not even the king will be able to protect you.”

We’ll see rolled around the tip of my tongue, urging me to release it. I succeeded in reeling it in. If I said anything more, the goblin beside me might just faint.

Still staring me down, the queen addressed Ivar: “Take the goblin’s head.”

“Yes, my queen,” Ivar said, already moving. He bent in front of a cabinet and from within it withdrew a head-sized wooden bucket and a drop cloth. He was already spreading the cloth out when my thoughts overcame my shock.

“You can’t⁠—”

The queen gave me a look I’d only ever seen on the Dragon Mother. Plain as day, it communicated, Obey me or else.

“My apologies,” I said, forcing the words out over my distaste at giving in. “What I meant to say was, please don’t hurt her for something I’ve done.”

Primrose was already plodding toward her evident site of execution, her dragon feet flopping on the floor. Now she halted, turning toward me, her jaw slack and her pupil-less eyes wide.

Ivar dropped the bucket with an unceremonious plop on the fabric, his mouth gaping for a brief moment before he regained his composure.

“Someone has to pay the price for your behavior,” the queen said. “Why not her?”

I couldn’t believe I was having to say this. What kind of backward place was this Embermere? How had someone as caring as Zako come from here? “Because she isn’t responsible for what I do.”

“But she’s a goblin,” the queen said.

Sooooo? Aloud I said, “Please forgive me. I’m new to the ways of the royal court and Embermere. I was raised among brutes who are part animal and the dragons we care for. I’m still learning my manners and how things work here. I want to understand.” At least I meant that final bit, though the words tasted like sulfur on the way out. But Primrose’s shoulders were less bowed, perhaps even hopeful.

Ivar pointed at the goblin, and she knelt in front of the bucket, resting her neck on its rim. Ivar drew a cutlas with a shwiiing that made my stomach clench.

“Please, Your Majesty,” I implored. “Spare her. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Barely resisting the urge to say more, I twisted my hands in front of me, putting on my best lowered-eyes look of repentance.

When the silence had grown so loud that it bounced around in my head, making a bloody racket, she finally sighed, flicking a hand in Ivar’s direction. Apparently this time, it wasn’t to do magic, but to signal her mercy—if it could be called that.

Ivar sheathed his weapon and Primrose backpedaled until her back hit the open passageway in the wall. There, she waited.

“You shall prove to me that you’ve indeed learned your lesson,” the queen told me, “or Primrose shall find herself right back in this spot. Her head will hit the bucket with the dull thud of a ripe melon.”

I cringed at the imagery.

The queen smiled. Her ice eyes thawed a little as if the prospect caused her delight.

No wonder Zako took me as far away from here as he did. There was nowhere within reach of Embermere’s borders that was safe.

“And then Ivar will mount her head on a spike,” the queen went on, “and place it in front of her family’s home, so all goblins can heed the warning.” She chuckled lightly. “I’m a fan of making the most of every opportunity. Wasting’s abhorrent.”

I pursed my lips to keep myself from saying the wrong thing, nodding instead, making sure to dip my head to the woman with the crown, far too much power, and way too little compassion.

“Very well,” she said. “Primrose, you may go.”

Primrose was halfway through the small doorway back into the tunnel when the queen added, “For now.”

Primrose’s squeak joined the pattering of her retreating footfalls as Ivar shut the panel behind her.

Ivar approached the queen. “Does it please Her Majesty to see her next guest?”

Guest? I almost snorted. Is that what I was?

“Yes, Ivar.” The queen bent to sit again, every move deceptively feminine and soft. “I grow weary. Let’s get this over with.” She took a sip of her tea before spitting it out. “And my tea is cold.”

“Right away, my queen.”

Unsure what to do that would prevent the queen from calling Primrose back to the parlor, I stood there while Ivar relayed whispered orders to someone on the other side of the door before leading Rush in.

Even as Rush bowed to the queen’s back, his attention roved over me—and then to the bucket atop the drop cloth.

His mouth hardened as he once more scanned the length of me, as if to assure himself I wasn’t missing any body parts.

“Rush, this is Zinnia.” Who the freaking dragonfire is Zinnia? “She hails from the outskirts of Etherantos, near the forest. She’s to compete in the Fae Heir Trials.”

Rush’s entire body jerked. “In the Gladius Probatio, Your Highness?”

“Yes. In my generosity I’ve decided to allow the people an entry into the tournament. Zinnia will never wear the crown, of course, but it’s a matter of fairness to allow them this gift.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Rush said, though I had to imagine he was thinking the woman was as crazy as a rabid bat flying around at high noon.

The queen leaned her arm on the raised edge of the settee and met his waiting gaze. “You’re to train her.”

Surprise washed across his handsome face another time, relaxing the tension around his lips. “To fight?” he clarified.

“Yes. The king wants you to train her to fight so she has a chance in the trials. I, however, don’t expect you to perform miracles. But I’m a queen of my word. Just do your best to keep her from getting killed in the opening match, but if that isn’t possible, I’ll understand.”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.”

“With the trials soon to commence, you’ll work with her every day, from daybreak until lunchtime. After that, you’ll guard the Lady Elowyn. She’s a distant relation of the king’s, so you’re to watch her closely and report back to me.” Rush held her expectant stare. “You’ll sleep in the antechamber to her rooms so you can keep a very close watch,” the queen continued.

“Is she an escape risk?”

“No, not anymore. Braque made certain of that.”

My fingers clenched into useless fists at my sides before I hurried to relax my hands. What the hell had Braque done to me when I hadn’t been able to hear a word he said?

“Is there anything in particular I should be watching for?” Rush asked. “Any specific risk?”

“Just the usual.” The queen fiddled with a pearl on her bodice. “How’s your dear sister, by the way?”

“She’s doing better, thank you.”

“When she’s next at the palace, I’d like to visit with her. I do so enjoy her company.”

Rush seemed careful to keep his expression blank, though I searched for something telling in it. “Of course, Your Highness. I’ll be sure to let her know.”

“That’s it, Rush. Escort Zinnia to her accommodations in the stables.”

“Very well. Another question first?”

“Proceed.”

“Is Zinnia allowed weapons?”

It took an entire beat for me to remember that they were presumably discussing me…

The queen’s brow arched and her lips settled into a smirk as she studied me. She chuckled. “Sure, why not? It’s not as if they’ll do her much good.”

Rush dipped into a low bow. “Thank you, Your Highness.” Though I had no idea what he could possibly be thanking her for.

Ivar pinned a glower on me that heated my skin quickly. I dipped into a curtsy, though I didn’t realize I knew how to. The man with the thin, sandy hair brushing his collar nodded his approval. I frowned before forcing myself to reflect a neutrality I was far from feeling.

“You’re dismissed, Zinnia,” the queen said as a servant slipped through the door carrying a tray with a fresh pot of tea, a single cup and saucer, and an array of delightful pastries that made my mouth water. “May your destiny be great, your life long, and your path blessed,” she said, her well wishes as thin and insubstantial as the brush of a feather.

What a crock of putrid shit.

Before I fully registered what all was happening, I found myself on the other side of the door, blinking after Rush as he stalked with long strides down the hall, calling out, “This way.”

10. A LITTLE PIG AND BULLIES IN FANCY BUTTERCREAM

Disbelief drifted within me like a dense fog, making each of my steps sluggish. Every one required too much effort.

How had things gone wrong so fast? How had I become beholden to a tyrant who had no problem lopping off heads left and right? How had I gone from the relative safety of Nightguard to this in such a short time?

My life in Nightguard hadn’t been one of luxury, but at least I’d found solace in my routine, the challenge of my constant training, and my friendship with Xeno and even Saffron. The grumpiest and sternest of the dragon protectors had never threatened me. Not even the great Dragon Mother, larger than several other dragons combined, would chomp on my head without reasonable provocation. Even with their uncivilized animal natures, predictable rules governed the dragons and their protectors. In Embermere, the queen seemed to do whatever she wanted with impunity. Not even my … father stood up to her.

Nausea swirled in my stomach before I shoved away the thought of Zako’s betrayal. I didn’t want the king to be my father. I simply wanted to return to the only home I’d known.

The distraction of the undeniably fine man ahead of me was insufficient to quell my unease. I followed Rush, grateful that as Zinnia he was able to lead instead of me. Was there so much difference between being a “fae of the people” and a “distant relative of the king?” Apparently there was, likely in more ways than I currently recognized.

Though the kind of magic Braque had used on me remained a mystery, evidently his glamor was in place and had transformed me sometime after Rush deposited me in my rooms—when I was still myself. No windows or mirrors lined these tighter hallways Rush took me down now, but an examination of what I could see—my arms and hands, the shape of my breasts, and after lifting my skirt when no one was looking, my legs and shoes—were different. The scars across my upper arm were entirely gone. I imagined that meant so were my other scars, the fainter ones. When I swung the long plait draped low on my back, it wasn’t the usual black but a copper color that was neither red nor brown, rather an uncommon mixture between the two. And when I touched my face with those foreign hands—shorter, stubbier fingers—I could tell my face was remarkably changed. My lips were thinner and my nose slightly upturned, my face and cheeks rounder.

We walked like that—Rush in front, me behind him—for what felt like hours but was probably only a few short minutes. I might as well have been underwater for how bizarre it was to suddenly discover myself in a stranger’s body.

Finally, Rush ushered me into a great hall where reflective glass lined much of the walls, and men and women of the fae stood huddled together in groups of three and more. As far as I could tell, their sole purpose was to watch each other and passersby. Though the courtiers, in their gaudy getups, didn’t stare at me with curiosity as they had when I’d last seen them as Elowyn, this time there wasn’t a single look directed at me that wasn’t disdainful and haughty. Had one of them asked me to lick their shoe, I wouldn’t have been surprised. They openly gossiped about me, their venom scarcely hidden behind colorful fans, curled mustaches, and precariously stacked hairdos.

Perhaps the ladies were also there to ogle Rush. Most of the women, and even some of the men, raked hungry gazes across the length of his sculpted body. Looks that were devastating when pointed my way transformed in an instant: they batted artificially long lashes at him and giggled behind feigned demure. I scarcely knew him, yet a surge of protectiveness raced through me. He held his head high and his back straight, though he had to be aware they were staring at him as if he were a sausage ready to be devoured.

Eventually, a sufficient gap opened between gawking fae and I got my first real view of myself—of Zinnia. I had only seconds to register what I now looked like before I drew unwanted attention—or more of it, anyhow. Before the next crowd of asps cut my view short.

Where I used to be tall, though not quite as much so as the king or queen, I was now decidedly short. All that arm span I relied on for combat was now gone. My legs were squatter, which explained why I felt as if I had to keep trotting to keep up with Rush. I’d have to adapt my fighting style to this unexpected limitation. I had no choice but to attack at a closer range, putting me at greater risk of injury by whomever my opponent would be—yet another fact I didn’t know. Beyond “males,” who would I be competing against in the tournament? And how skilled would they be? My father’s prediction that I’d die in the opening part of this tournament rang hollowly in my memory.

Thanks for absolutely nothing, Daddy-o, King of Assholes.

His faith in me, the daughter he didn’t know, was astounding.

Not only was I now magically short, I was also rounder in every way. My breasts were several sizes larger; they’d get in the way. My hips were wider, my legs at least still muscled, the same with my arms.

It wasn’t ideal. But at least Braque hadn’t turned me into someone weak. It would be enough of a challenge to adjust to this form before these trials everyone kept referring to commenced, but I’d rise to meet it.

I always did.

My face, however…

“She’s a little pig,” stage-whispered a woman whose hair, the same red as the changing leaves of autumn, towered a full foot above her crown. It was woven into several strands as bulky as rope, then twisted together and upward like arching snakes. Her lips, the same shade as her hair, crept up with her pleasure before she waved her fan at her face fast enough to agitate flames.

A woman who stood beside her, hair a long twist of blue, snorted as Zako had when telling me the tale of five little pigs and their eventual triumph over their wicked master. The horrible man grew too trusting of his control over them, and the piggies killed him in his sleep, then ate every last morsel of him.

I felt my own smile burgeon, pulling at my cheeks. The women with the red and blue hair jerked as if struck, so I allowed the grin to grow.

“Oh my,” said Slithering Red Snakes. “She’s vicious, isn’t she?”

“It would seem so,” answered the other. Oddly, I detected what might have been admiration from them.

What kind of place was this?

Rush moved to stand before me, and only then did I realize I’d stopped walking, returning the favor of the “ladies’” examination.

He bent his head down toward me. “We must hurry.”

My smile fell. Hurry was rapidly becoming my least favorite word.

Red and Blue dipped their shoulders forward, batted stupidly elongated lashes at him, and trilled at nothing. Red dragged her teeth across her bottom lip, raking off the pigment and leaving a fainter strip behind.

Rush glanced at them but seemed to have no reaction to their artifice. I was seconds away from slapping Red’s hair from its precarious perch.

“Come, Zinnia,” Rush said. His use of the unfamiliar name jarred me out of my haze.

I followed him out of the hall, now purposefully ignoring the glimpses of mirror behind the fae. There might have been sixty or seventy of them gathered there, and though they endeavored to take up more space than was reasonable, the Hall of Mirrors was larger yet.

The moment I exited the great room into a much smaller, blessedly empty one, save a servant dashing past us with a tray of finger foods, I inhaled so deeply that I realized I’d hardly breathed at all under their scrutiny.

“What a bundle of joy that crew is,” I muttered to myself.

Rush surprised me by chuckling before glancing all around us as if once more checking for invisible ears hidden in the walls.

He didn’t say a word until we finally emerged into open air. I sucked it in as if I’d suffered from lack of oxygen within the blasted place. Pretty as could be, but as I was rapidly learning, appearances deceived.

Once trees dotted our path and marked out some distance from the palace, Rush slowed until he walked beside me. “Don’t let what they say get to you.”

Surprised, I looked up at him. He was close enough that I could make out the natural thickness to his lashes and the way his beard was trying to grow in spite of what I guessed had been a close shave that morning. The moonlight of his eyes had the depth the courtesans lacked.

I chuffed. “Don’t worry. I know better.”

But the concern that crinkled his eyes at the corners suggested I was more transparent than I wanted to be, even in this odd body.

He slowed his stride so I didn’t have to work so hard to keep up. He stared off into the forest that edged the gravel-topped path, growing denser with each step. “Their families teach them that their value’s only in what others think of them.”

I gazed off into the opposite side of the forest before turning back to study him.

A person could eat off those perfect cheekbones—preferably me. I’d lick up all the crumbs and thus distract myself from my current woes.

He added, “They learn to put down others to make themselves feel better.”

“That’s an awfully sad way to live.” Now that I paid attention, the inflection of my voice was even different, my tone a bit higher. It seemed Braque had remembered to change everything about me.

The fucker!

“Yes, yes it is,” Rush was saying.

I really examined him. The sleek efficiency of his stride, his constant, roving alertness, the subtle furrow of his brow.

“You speak as if from experience,” I guessed.

He returned the favor of studying me before nodding and looking away again. “Why do you think I became a guard?”

My brows arched. “Because if not you’d have to be right there with them?” I obnoxiously batted my lashes and fanned my face with the flat of my hand.

He laughed, and the warm sound instantly became my new favorite.

“It seems you have little idea how bad it can get,” he offered.

I frowned. “I fear that may be true.”

“What’s it like to live in Etherantos? Is it really as dangerous as they say near the Nerotti Forest?”

I’m not from anywhere in Embermere or the Mirror World, whatever it actually is. I’m Elowyn, not Zinnia. I have some kind of cruel glamor on me. They stole me from Nightguard, where dragons are protected, not murdered and their heads slapped on a pike like some gruesome trophy. I need to get out of here right the hell now, like yesterday. Will you please help me escape?

But though I tried to voice my thoughts as I normally would when speaking, not a single word came out. Instead, my mouth bobbed open and closed, emitting useless squeaks.

“Zinnia?” Despite our need to “hurry,” he stopped walking for a moment to gawp at me. “Are you okay?”

I closed my eyes and exhaled loudly. “No, I’m not okay. Not even a little bit.” My eyes popped open when I heard Zinnia’s voice aloud. Braque did something to me, I added, but again with the squeaks.

“Fuck. I hate this place,” I snarled.

He threw his head back and laughed again. My stomach warmed. Dragonfire, my insides actually tingled, and I immediately plotted to make him laugh again.

“You mean the royal court? Or the outskirts of Etherantos, your home?” he asked.

“All of it,” I grumbled. “Every single thing about it all. Well, except you.”

“Oh? You like me, do you?”

I smirked. “You haven’t threatened to cut off my head, or someone else’s just to punish me for, well, I’m not entirely sure for what, other than being late without actually being late?”

That got him to pick up the pace, and I had to nearly jog after him.

“And you haven’t called me a pig either,” I added. “So you’re two for two there.”

He surveyed me over his shoulder but didn’t slow. “You do know you don’t look like a pig, right?”

“Of course.” Though my newfound round cheeks, upturned nose, puffy eyes, weak chin, and thin lips weren’t doing much to dispel the comparison. “I don’t usually look this way.”

My eyes widened in surprise that I’d managed to get that out.

“I’m not…” He huffed and tried again. “I’m only saying it in case you were thinking it. My sister pretends things others say about her doesn’t get to her, but it does.” His eyes narrowed as if those who insulted her were within punching range.

“What’s your sister like?” I asked.

His entire face hardened. “We’re here.”

If I hadn’t been able to see the stables at the top of a small hillock, I would have been able to smell them. “So we are.”

While he led me up a narrow dirt trail, he asked, “What kind of experience do you have with fighting?”

“Um, normally I’d say quite a lot. Now … I’m not so sure.”

He gave me a what the hell does that mean? look, and oh how I wished I could answer him. But when I tried, more peeps emerged, sounding more and more like pig squeals with each attempt.

“Oh-kay, then,” he said. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“I guess we will. And will you tell me more about the Fae Heir Trials then?”

His head jerked in my direction. “You don’t know? How could you not? I thought everyone in the entire kingdom had heard about what’s going on. The trials are being held for the very first time in the Mirror World.”

“Because of the death of the prince heir, Saturn?”

He whipped his head around, searching the trees for eavesdroppers. “Shhhhh,” he hissed. “If you want to keep that head of yours long enough to enter the tourney, don’t say his name. Not ever.”

My throat dried. “Got it.”

Next he was stalking through large open barn doors, aiming for the first person he saw: a young man about my age, with shoulder-length hair in messy braids, and kind eyes.

“You in charge here?” Rush asked.

The guy snorted and stood from where he’d been kneeling in front of a horse’s hoof. “Nah. Whatcha need?”

“This is Zinnia. She’s to be the people’s champion in the upcoming tournament.”

Those kind eyes went as wide as teatime saucers while the stable hand gawked at me.

“The queen’s ordered that she be given accommodations here.” Rush joined Saucers in staring. Rush seemed to take in my dress. Its cut was similar to mine as Elowyn, though its fabric was simpler, limper, and thinner. Designed with functionality in mind, or at least as much as bodices ever were. How I missed the simple britches, tunics, and boots I got to wear in the mountains.

“And do you have some spare clothes suitable for weapons training for her?”

Saucers’ eyes stretched until white showed on all sides. “She’s to … train … to fight? In the tourney?” He sounded as miffed as if Rush had told him I came from another planet and was actually green and purple with spikes beneath a skinsuit.

“Yes. Queen’s orders.”

That had Saucers searching the shadows of the stables, nodding his head as if on a spring. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Whatever the queen wants.”

“Good. I’ll be here to train her every day with the sunrise.” Then to me: “Make sure you’re ready. I don’t enjoy wasting my time.”

I harrumphed. “Neither do I. So let’s hope you actually have something to teach me that’s worth learning.” I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling at how much more mass there was beneath them. How was I supposed to fight with boobs that would get in the way of drawing a bow?

Saucers was back to whites wrapping his irises. “Oh, Millicent’s gonna love this.”

“Who’s Millicent?” I asked while Rush said, “Millicent of Potesantos?”

Saucers nodded while his eyes returned to normal proportions.

Rush hmmphed. “So this is where the queen sent her…”

Saucers peeked over both shoulders before whispering, “Yeah. Better than taking her head and pissing off the Potesantos clan.” He chuffed. “Though not if you ask Millicent.”

“Did someone call my name?”

Millicent emerged from the shadows at the back end of the stables, where she very well could have hidden while she eavesdropped. I had a new appreciation for how much glancing over shoulders the people here did.

She wore a dress much like mine in a bright, joyful buttercream that I could already tell did not match her personality. Though she walked through a stable, her clothing was impeccable. The hem of my pea green dress was already tinged brown just from the dirt we were standing on.

Her eyes pinned on me. “Who’s this?” Her tone was already taunting as she somehow managed to look down at me from a distance, ignoring that her surroundings were an apparent confirmation that she’d been exiled from her station in the royal court.

You could dress up a bully in fancy buttercream, but it made no difference.

Rush already had his mouth open to reply, so I jumped in first. “I can tell you who I’m not.”

I stepped in front of Rush and Saucers to meet her approach head-on. “I’m not someone for you to push around. You have thoughts about me? Fine, can’t stop you from having them. But I don’t wanna hear them. In fact, I don’t want to hear a thing you have to say.”

She gasped, a hand flying to her bosom in supposed offense. “I…” she sputtered. “I … how rude,” she finally settled on. “I just wanted to be friends.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet you did. I might be a lot of things, but born yesterday isn’t one of them.”

“This is unacceptable. I’m going to have to go to the queen about this⁠—”

I smiled wickedly at the spurned woman behind the mask. “You do that.” Though we both know the queen won’t want to see you, now don’t we? But I kept that last bit to myself. My point was a preemptive strike, nothing more. I didn’t have the time or patience for bullies. I had to find a way out of here, and fast. Playing mind games wasn’t in the plans.

Some of her pretense fell as she dropped her hand to her side and narrowed eyes that would have been pretty if not for their mean streak. “Watch what you say to me.”

“Yeah, I sure will.” I smiled brilliantly.

Her nostrils flared for several moments before she appeared to make an effort to compose herself. “Rush Vega,” she said in an overly sugared voice. “Nice to see you again after all this time.”

Rush dipped his head at her. “Glad to see you doing well.”

Her smile froze in place for several beats before she got her face to move again. “Yes, I’m doing very well, thank you. What brings you here … with the likes of her?”

I rolled my eyes at how heavily she laid on the distaste.

“Are you guarding … pigs now?” she added, batting painted lashes in mock innocence.

Rush’s jaw ground. “I’m not. I’ll be training Zinnia to fight. She’ll be competing in the Gladius Probatio.”

That shut Millicent up. Her mouth hung open as if she were in the business of catching flies. With difficulty, I swallowed the observation.

“You … she … what?” she finally managed.

Rush was already nodding at her, then me. “See you tomorrow.” And with that, he was off, sauntering out of the barn with the same ease as he’d moved through the fancy palace. Too fast, he disappeared over the hillock and was gone.

Instantly, Millicent seethed, “You little⁠—”

I whipped around to face her, the sight infinitely more terrible than Rush’s tight backside and muscled back. “I meant what I said earlier. You and I aren’t gonna play this little game of yours.”

She sucked in a breath, hands planted akimbo. “You don’t get to tell me what I do or don’t do. I outrank you!”

“I don’t care if you’re the queen herself.” Though truly, after the day’s experience, I really would. “Mind your own business. I’m not here to play.”

Saucers followed our exchange like his head was on a swivel.

“This is preposterous,” Millicent grumbled, growing louder again. “I⁠—”

I sighed. “Millicent, give up the act. You don’t want to be my friend. I know that, and this guy here knows it too. By the way, what’s your name?” I asked of Saucers.

“Uh.” He looked from me to Millicent. “Reed, it’s Reed.”

“Nice to meet you, Reed,” I said.

“S-same here.”

Back to Milli-bully. “Let’s just do our own thing and stay out of each other’s way, okay?”

“That’s not how things work here. I’m the highest ranking⁠—”

“Yada yada, blah blah blah. I just don’t care. Get it?”

“No, that’s not how things work.”

“Well, they do for me.” I turned to Reed. “Will you please show me where I’ll be sleeping?”

That was the precise moment when I felt a nip on my hand. “Ow,” I yelped, instantly spinning to locate the goblin, whose sharp pinch I feared I’d recognize anywhere after just a few experiences with it.

Primrose stood directly behind me, her dark eyes entirely unrepentant.

“Where’d you come from?” I asked. “And have ya never heard of saying ‘hello’ instead of pinching me to get my attention?”

“No time for questions,” she said. What a freaking surprise. “Hurry, hurry, off we go.”

I groaned. “Where to this time? To see the queen again?”

Millicent’s stare intensified along my skin, but I didn’t have the chance to reward her with an evil look. Primrose already had me by the hand, half dragging, half leading me out the open back door of the stables.

“See ya later, Reed,” I called out over my shoulder as we rounded the corner.

“Hurry, hurry, or it’s off with our heads.”

“Really? Ya don’t say?” I commented dryly. “What an incredibly refreshing turn of events.”

11. DON’T TRUST ANYONE

Primrose ran to a large tree beyond a paddock occupied by the most beautiful animals I’d ever seen—short of the dragons, of course. Following close on her heels, I whipped my head around to take in more of the horses. The handful of them out under the sunshine were formidable, strong, and impeccably maintained; their coats shone.

The goblin popped open a tiny door from the wide, knobby trunk where I wouldn’t have noticed one if not for her. She disappeared into it before I’d had my fill of the horses. Nearing the opening, I looked once more, and jerked in surprise.

“Is that a … wow, wow, wowee. It is, isn’t it? That’s a freaking unicorn.”

I grinned as if I’d just secured my escape from Queen Cruella’s clutches and shook my head in disbelief. “A unicorn. So cool.”

Primrose’s voice snaked toward me from within the dark, humid tunnel. “Run, run, or it’s off with⁠—”

“Yes, yes! I got it. Jeez, enough with the ‘hurry’ and beheading shit already.” I went to follow when I noticed— “Is that a horse with wings?”

A hand snaked out of the door and yanked me forward, pulling me against a hole too small even for Zinnia’s proportions. I smacked my forehead against the bark.

“Sssssss,” I hissed. “Dammit, Pru!”

“Hurry up and get over it.” She tugged on my wrist again but I slapped her hand away before rubbing at my forehead.

“Chill the hell out, Pru. I’m seeing stars here.”

“Better to see stars than not. If it’s off with our heads, we won’t⁠—”

“Do not finish that sentence. I’m ready to cut my own damn head off just so I don’t have to hear you say it again.” I rubbed the knot I could already feel forming. “Plus, I’m pretty sure your logic is faulty.”

“Better faulty than⁠—”

“Pru,” I growled, finally squeezing my shoulders through the opening that was several sizes too small for them. This mode of travel had obviously been designed with only goblins in mind. Primrose was standing to her full height once I got in there.

I glared at her for good measure. “After that, I refuse to call you ‘Primrose.’”

“I never asked you to. Call me what you will, so long as⁠—”

“Pru,” I warned. “I’m not kidding right now. I’ve been through more shit than’s reasonable lately, and I still have no clue about most of it. I feel like I’m standing upside down.”

“Well, you are in a mirror world. If you’re not used to it, I suppose it could feel strange.”

“Another thing I need you to explain to me,” I said around a tight jaw. Every muscle in my body had remained tense since I’d first been taken from Nightguard. At least the injuries I’d received since then were gone thanks to the glamor—the only good thing about it.

“Well?” the goblin pressed. “Close the door behind you. We must be off.”

Glaring at her, I twisted awkwardly in the tight space to do as she said. When I turned back around, her glowing, ember-colored orb was making its way down the tunnel at a brisk pace, with her immediately below it, her dragon feet slapping the dirt as she went.

“Here we go again,” I muttered, and hurried to catch up.

Primrose had some extra magic she hadn’t let on about. When the “hurry, hurry” she continually mumbled under her breath reached a fevered pitch, and I wondered what might happen to me if I lost my ever-loving mind in the tight, underground tunnel, she snapped her fingers and she and I zoomed forward at unnatural speeds. A soft orange glow that matched her guiding orb surrounded her and me, and though I kept moving my feet at first, they only skimmed the hard-packed dirt beneath us.

At first I thought she started and stopped this zooming wonder on a whim. But she seemed always to anticipate when another goblin would soon be crossing our path, and slowed just in time for us not to smack into them. Since the tunnel was sized for two goblins to squeeze by when they had to, but not for a young woman, Primrose instructed me to raise my skirts and let them crawl beneath my legs. Never had I been so glad for the ridiculous bloomers Zinnia wore. Having several grumpy-looking goblins crawl through my legs wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen to me since arriving in Embermere, but it was close. At least none of them called me a pig. Perhaps they were simply all in too great a haste to bother.

When the tunnel began creeping upward, Primrose zipped us forward once more, then released her power suddenly and I slammed into her back, smacking her forward. She caught herself with her hands, already shaking her head at me when she rose.

“Mistress, you must be careful.”

“Pru, you need to explain to me how things work. I’m totally clueless.”

When she simply resumed walking at a regular pace, I used her lingo. “How am I supposed to not offend the queen and keep my head if I don’t know what I’m doing?”

She didn’t turn or slow, but the rise in her shoulders told me I had her. After several steps that left me wondering if I’d misinterpreted, she whispered, as if even the tunnels might have ears, “Ask your questions. I’ll answer if I can. But we still have to hurry, and we’re almost there.”

Then I wouldn’t waste a second. “What kind of magic do you have? And how does it work? Is it the same as what all goblins have?”

She scoffed. “That’s a very personal question.”

“Is it? Why?”

“Do I ask you what color undergarments you’re wearing?”

“No, but you already know what I’m wearing under my clothes. You pick it all out for me and half dress me as if I were incapable of doing it myself.” In truth, she hadn’t dressed me as Zinnia. I’d been Elowyn one moment and this the next. But splitting hairs was a waste of time I didn’t have. “The goblins who went under my legs know what color bloomers I’m wearing too.”

“No, they don’t. They didn’t look.”

“How would you know?”

Again, she scoffed, and when it became clear that was all I was getting out of her, I shifted approaches, careful to watch where I placed my feet in the dim glow of her orb, much of which her body blocked.

“How does the glamor magic work? How is it that I was myself like normal and then all of a sudden I was Zinnia? I didn’t feel anything, nothing at all. Not even a freaking tingle. And no one spoke a spell or threw a potion at me or anything like that. How does it work, and how come I can talk to you about it but I couldn’t with Rush? It all came out like piggy squeals when I tried.” And the sounds hadn’t been nearly as cute as those of the piglets I’d admired in Crestshine Lake.

I sensed her hesitation, but she eventually answered, her words slightly muffled since she didn’t turn to utter them. I strained to catch every one.

“You can talk with me about it because I’m a goblin.”

“Yeahhhhh? So you’re a goblin. So what?”

That made her step hitch before she kept hustling along. “We goblins are unimportant. We do what we’re told without question. Behind every royal and courtier, there’s a goblin. Behind every fairy servant, there’s also probably a goblin. We know because we have to. If not, things wouldn’t work the way they do.”

“Why would you say you’re unimportant?”

“I’m not in the business of mincing facts, Mistress.”

“Who’s Edsel?”

Once more her step hitched, but she caught herself quickly. At the pace she demanded of us, we were surely almost there … wherever in the dragonfire she was taking me.

“Edsel is none of your business,” she finally answered sternly.

“It sounded like the queen was using him, whoever he is, against you.”

The goblin’s breathing intensified so suddenly that I heard her harsh inhales and exhales. “The queen excels at amassing power and using her every advantage to her benefit.”

“So she does more than cut off heads.”

“She does a vast deal more than that, yes.” As if she instantly regretted what she’d answered, Primrose scanned the tunnel up ahead of us with sweeping arcs of her head.

I was certain that was all she’d reveal when she added, “Braque and Ivar are nearly as dangerous as the queen. Whenever she conspires, they’re in the thick of things. You’d be wise to be as wary of them as you should be of her.”

“Braque muted what he was saying when he did whatever magic he did with me.”

“Yes, he’s known for that. Never wants anyone to know what he’s up to.”

“And no one questions that?”

“No one can, Mistress. Whatever he did to you, assume it’s worse than you think. And if you don’t feel when you transform from Elowyn to Zinnia, then the claws of his magic are deep in you.”

A spasm clenched my intestines before, just as quickly, releasing.

“He likely set up the glamor so that you automatically change when it’s required,” Primrose added.

I whistled. “I’ve never heard of magic that advanced.” Granted, I hadn’t heard much about magic in general beyond what shifters could do, and that was mostly automatic to them. Zako hadn’t had any powers at all.

Primrose slowed then drew to a stop. I scanned either side of the tunnel and recognized no doorway.

“Whatever power Braque has, the queen has much, much more, and Ivar has just as much as he does. Whatever you do, don’t let Braque put more spells on you.” Her face was scrunched with the intensity of her warning.

Defeat swirled down my body in a twisting corkscrew. The feeling was unfamiliar and wholly unwelcome. “How exactly am I to avoid that? She’s threatening not just me, but others. She almost had your head chopped off!”

Primrose sighed. “It’s what she does.”

“Then how do I protect myself?”

“You don’t. You do what we goblins do: keep your head down, do as you’re told, and hope the queen, Braque, and Ivar have no reason to notice you.”

“That sounds miserable.”

She didn’t answer.

“Is it … is it all right with you if I call you Pru or Prim or something else? Do you have a nickname?” She deserved the respect she’d apparently never been shown.

“Call me whatever you like, Mistress.” She turned to press her hands to a patch of tunnel wall that looked like any other. Lowering her gaze, she peered up at me. “I appreciate you standing up for me with the queen. No one’s ever done something like that for me before.”

I laughed darkly. “I had to. She was gonna punish you for something I’d done. Not even anything I’d done, just for kicks. Doesn’t the king ever stand in her way?”

“No, Mistress, Embermere doesn’t work that way. The queen’s the one of the royal bloodline, not him.”

My own blood seemed to chill.

Pru shrugged somberly. “She’s the one tied to the land and its magic.”

I gasped as realization hit. “Is that why it’s so glum beyond the palace? And what’s up with the dragons’ heads? Where I’m from, dragons are mighty and revered.”

Pru’s lips pursed. “I’ve said too much already.” She began to push the wall, a soft grating sound emerging between the sections.

“Wait! What’s up with how you made us move like that, so fast? Why haven’t you done that before if we’re always in a rush?”

She breathed in, then out, resigned. “We goblins aren’t allowed to use our powers without the queen’s express permission. No one can know. Not even the other goblins.”

“That sucks.”

She surveyed me over her shoulder, her eyes cast in deep shadow, keeping her reaction concealed. “This evening you’re to be formally introduced to the court, Mistress.” She waited until I met her waiting stare. “Be careful. Don’t trust anyone.”

Gulping, I nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”

She extinguished her light, opened the doorway, and led us inside a new room, this one with walls in a soft, satiny lilac and a four-poster bed draped with gauzy curtains and plush rugs dotting the ample space.

Sometime between the tunnel and stepping into what I presumed was my new bedchamber, I transformed into myself. Relief warmed my skin until a knock jolted me.

“Just a moment, Drake Rush Vega,” Pru called in the direction of the door. “Her Ladyship must still dress.”

Rush’s huff and then gruff voice slid through the wood. “Very well. I’ll be waiting in the antechamber. But hurry.”

Sure, to him I’d had hours to whittle away.

Pru was already shoving me toward a closed armoire. “Hurry, hurry, or it’s off with our heads.”

This time, I heeded her warning, mostly for her sake and possibly Rush’s. I kicked off my slippers while Pru hopped on a stool and undid the ties that cinched my bustier.

12. SO LONG AS THE QUEEN WILLS IT

When Pru finally deemed me sufficiently presentable for an evening of fraternizing at the court and admitted Rush to my room, my nerves were shot and I was more on edge than a hangry dragon. Her fingers had actually vibrated with her tension as she’d done up my new dress—a stunning coral number even I had to admit made me look like a princess. Its bodice was so tight it allowed only the essential breath needed for survival. My breasts were smushed up toward my collarbones, suggesting they were several times their actual size. I was eternally grateful for Finnian’s salve that had healed my arrow wounds and sore ribs in record time. Shiny satin ribbons of the same hue crisscrossed the front and back of the top, fixing it into place, and the skirt was a poufy bell of multi-layered tulle. When Pru brought out my shoes, which matched the coral tone precisely, I longed for the flat, shapeless slippers again, something I hadn’t imagined I’d ever do. But the dainty stilettos were so high they had me standing on tiptoe. I didn’t see how I could do anything remotely useful in the things—no way would I be able to properly defend myself unless it was to kick someone in the neck with the needle-like heel—though I’d probably lose my balance in the process and totter over.

Pru had taken my hair out of its plaits, making quick work of it, and twisted the long strands into ropes she curled in spirals at the base of my head, pinning gemstones around them. She handed me opal earrings, a matching necklace, and twin bracelets while she skimmed over my face with an assortment of makeup I’d never had use for before. I would have liked to study myself in the mirror to see what she’d done, but I feared if I delayed so much as a second she’d keel over right on the spot and save the queen from removing her head.

When Rush’s eyes first landed on me though, I half-heartedly wished I’d risked it. The swirling silver of them seemed almost to glow as his gaze heated. He didn’t bother to hide his reaction to me as he took his time perusing my new look.

The man who’d knocked on the door several times while Pru dressed me, causing her nervous energy to increase each time, with reminders that we’d soon be late, seemed to have entirely forgotten that we were supposed to be on our way.

His attention was a caress as it trailed across my eyes, cheeks, and paused at my lips, before moving down along my bare neck, exposed by the requisite updo; across my collarbones; and once more lingering over the half-moons that were visible of my breasts. His appreciation dragged down my chest and to my waist, over my skirt, before starting back up again, leaving a shiver in its wake.

Pru tsked. “You must hurry or the queen will be displeased with us all.”

At her reminder, Rush actually shook his head as if to dispel it of his current thoughts—which I very much wanted to know. His eyes and jaw had grown slack as he’d taken me in. I suspected it was a look he didn’t often wear.

Rush had forgone his fighting leathers for tight britches and a finely woven tunic that hung to mid-thigh, providing some discretion for the prominence that not even the loose-hanging shirt could entirely conceal. The britches hugged muscular thighs and tucked into black, polished boots, the comfort of which I couldn’t help but be envious of. His long hair was pulled back from his face as before, but the smattering of braids that hung across his shoulders appeared freshly woven.

“Go,” Pru said with an inartful shove that sent me toppling forward on unsteady feet.

A gasp slipped from my lips as Rush caught me, taking his time to right me. His muscles were hard beneath his tunic, and up close, his scent was an intriguing combination of sweetgrass, frankincense, and myrrh, all of which Zako would purchase when in Crestshine Lake.

“You look stunning, milady,” Rush grumbled as I stared up into his eyes.

I smiled. “Thank you. So do you.”

Pru huffed, reminding me sharply that we weren’t alone in the room. “You must go now,” she said, her plea sharp.

Nodding, I stood on my own two feet again and accepted Rush’s proffered arm. Just before exiting the room, I glanced back at the little goblin, and she winked at me.

I was too surprised to do much of anything before Rush closed the door behind us.

It took us an unreasonable amount of time to travel from my new chambers, closer to the Hall of Mirrors than my previous one and sporting an antechamber fitted with a bed for Rush.

“I don’t understand how women can walk in these blasted things. They were obviously designed with torture in mind,” I groused, not for the first time. In response, he chuckled, also not for the first time. “Who would voluntarily wear them when they could choose perfectly comfortable flat shoes?”

He looked down at me from where I relied heavily on his arm for support. “Every other woman in the court.”

“Then they’re all insane. The things are trying to kill me. I’ve already had to heal from two arrow wounds and broken ribs, thank you very much. I’m not in the mood to deal with a broken ankle … or neck.”

I directed an unreasonable amount of attention to keeping my ankles upright with each step.

I felt Rush’s stare on me and glanced up. “What?”

“When did you get shot with arrows?”

“Um, ah.” What was I allowed to say here? I’d been here all of one day and already the queen had spun more lies than I could easily keep up with.

I gritted my teeth. Dammit, I was allowed to say whatever in dragon’s fire I wanted! It was bad enough the woman tried to control every aspect of my life. If Braque’s cantrips prevented my speech, well then, so be it. But I wasn’t about to censor myself in my private conversations for her mighty fucking highness. She was the one who wanted to do all this deceiving, not me.

“When the king’s men came for me,” I said, half expecting a series of squeaks instead.

His bicep tightened around my arm. “They shot you?”

“Yep. They sure did.”

His jaw hardened as his nostrils flared. Next, his cheek ticced. “Why would they do that?”

“Ah, ah-heh. Well, heh, I was in the process of running away from them.” His brows arched. “But that still doesn’t excuse them shooting at me.”

“No, of course it doesn’t.”

“I wasn’t even armed.”

His brows climbed farther up his forehead.

“Milady, you’re most … unexpected.”

I chortled. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” In truth I hadn’t, not put that delicately anyhow. Dragon shifters didn’t have much use for the polite conversations of court life. Their straight-to-the-point manner always told you exactly where you stood with them—even if they had “allowed” me to stay there in secret, knowing more about me than I’d known myself.

I scowled.

“Milady, have I upset you?”

“No, no you haven’t.” I patted his hand to assure him, lost my balance, and careened into his side for a few moments until I found my footing again.

“The damn things,” I muttered.

He chortled.

“And you,” I said, “how come you look so different from before? Where are your weapons and your … is it a guard uniform?” In The Princess and the Dragon, the princess had ultimately rescued herself, but there had been a knight in uniform trying to woo her along the way.

His relaxed demeanor seemed to evaporate before my eyes. “I don’t have a uniform unless Her Majesty the queen wills it.”

I waited for him to continue.

“Like you, I’m from one of the fae clans. A drake, actually.”

My mouth and eyes widened simultaneously. “No shit. A real, honest-to-flames drake?”

He blinked at me before chuckling. “Your speech is most unusual.” He scanned down and over my body. “All of you is, actually. I’ve never had reason to travel to Forzantos. Perhaps that’s why I find your demeanor so surprising.”

“Surprising, huh?”

“And … enticing.”

“Okay, gettin’ better, gettin’ better. So if I’m from Forzantos, where are you from?”

“I’m from Amarantos.”

“Oh.” I beamed. “That’s good to know, my drake.”

He shook his head. “No need to call me that. No one else does. I’m only here at court because the queen wills it.”

I’d only been playing, but there was that queen’s will again. I frowned for a breath as I envisioned what it would look like to give the woman a taste of her own medicine. “So if you’re a drake and I’m only a distant relative to the king, why are you ordered to protect me? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“You, protect me?” He laughed. “You’re funny.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Trust me when I say I don’t mean to be.”

“I have my own chambers here at court, in the queen’s wing.” A vein pulsed along the length of his neck though his face remained impassive. “Usually I stay there. But until the queen tells me otherwise, I’ll be sleeping in the antechamber to your room. I’ll be gone for training, but otherwise I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

I smirked. “The queen sure loves to give you orders, huh?”

He stared at me, blinked, then looked away.

Chatter drifted down the hallway, wider now that we were almost at the Hall of Mirrors in spite of my labored pace.

“How long will you be staying in the antechamber to my room?” I asked.

His jaw tensed yet again.

“Let me guess,” I said. “So long as the queen wills it?”

“Of course,” he replied in an obsequious tone that warned me that others might very well be listening. Patting my neck fondly, I willed myself to watch what I said for once.

“Whatever the queen commands, I shall do,” he emphasized. “Though I can’t be certain, I presume she’ll have me guard you until the Gladius Probatio stage of the tournament draws to a close. When the Nuptialis Probatio begins, I’ll likely be too busy to do a proper job as a guard.”

“Why’s that?”

He shook his head in wonder. “You really don’t know much about what goes on here, do you? About its traditions?”

“No, but I’d be very happy for you to enlighten me.”

We rounded a bend, and he slowed us to a stop in front of double doors that were flung wide and propped open. A buzz of constant conversation wafted out, mingling with the peppy music of a string orchestra and laughter that even at a distance irked me with its artificiality.

“Maybe later,” he told me as every set of eyes in the place, even those of the orchestra, seemed to shift in our direction. Talking quieted, making the song sound louder.

“In here, you need to keep your wits about you,” he said.

Unable to remove my attention from the stares pinned on us and where our bodies touched, I whispered, “It sounds like you say that from experience.”

“I do. This is the deadliest game of chess you’ll ever play. Though in here, every move’s made with the goal of the queen’s ultimate survival, not the king’s. I realize he’s your relative, but you might want to keep that in mind.”

“Noted.”

“Do you play chess?” His stare was also trained ahead of us, at the apparent challenge we were about to face.

“A little. I’m no expert.”

He exhaled steadily. “Then you’d better not leave my side.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Slowly, he led us into the vast room, now reorganized and redecorated to contain a sizable dance floor in the middle, food and drink tables dotting the space, with the orchestra on one end. Small, stiff seating areas occupied a few niches within the walls. Enormous crystal chandeliers with dozens of glowing orbs much like Pru’s, only these were a cool blue, illuminated the space and its cathedral-height ceiling. The light reflected off the mirrors, multiplying to infinity.

“And don’t let anyone get too close to you,” Rush added while nodding at a courtier, drawing me from my observations.

“What? How am I supposed to manage that?”

“You’ll learn fast enough. Rely on every one of your senses, and you’ll survive long enough for the Nuptialis Probatio.”

“What do you mean? What’s the Nuptialis Probatio?”

A very tall and equally thin man, outfitted in a fine suit the exact shade of the lighting, was clearing his throat. He announced, “Rush Vega, Drake of Amarantos, accompanied by Lady Elowyn Ashira of the Forzantos clan at her first introduction to the great royal court of Embermere.”

A hushed awe befell our audience as I realized the man had omitted the “Xiomara” from my name—no doubt, by order of the queen.

13. THERE’S A FIRST FOR EVERYTHING

Beneath the cool blue glow of the many chandeliers, a ghost of a smile forced onto my lips. I imagined it looked as pained as it felt. Even so, I was unsure what else to do as I clutched Rush’s arm while attempting to appear I wasn’t—focusing on placing each step carefully in the shoes I was so woefully unaccustomed to—and allowed him to lead us through the ballroom at a languorous pace that made me twitchy on the inside. The courtiers’ over-the-top costumes from the last time I’d seen them had evolved into garb I wouldn’t believe people could live in if not for the fact that they were currently doing so. In nature, the more colorful, bright, and beautiful the creature, often the more deadly it was. No matter how many smiles and nods of recognition were pointed our way as we progressed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were cutting a path through a den of vipers.

If Zako had been the king’s favored personal guard, then surely he’d encountered scenes much like this one. He could have prepared me for court life. He could have at least told me about it so I wasn’t as vulnerable as a dragonling before its scales began to harden.

Vulnerable was the one thing I’d worked so hard to prevent being. And yet it seemed that Zako had let me down in one more way. He’d known—and he’d lied—telling me endless fantastical tales instead, as if they could have prepared me for this…

Something clenched in my chest sharply enough to draw my attention back where it belonged: on the danger of the here and now. My eyes regained their focus, again taking in the details of the faes’ garish attire: a young, fit man in a puffy-sleeved yellow shirt the color of sunflowers, and britches the shade of their center. His hair was a copper so shiny I’d only ever seen its like before in metal; his lips, lashes, and brows were painted orange. The woman at his side wore a dress much like mine, with a skirt so wide she could sneak several children beneath it. Her hair was pinned in place with too many gems to count, most reflecting the light overhead, exacerbating the dizzying effect of the mirrors.

Rush smiled tightly at the copper-haired man. “Lennox.”

His brown eyes darkening, Lennox grinned venomously at Rush. “Looking forward to giving you a well-earned beating in the ring.”

“Keep the trash talk for then,” Rush quipped, and as if sensing my unease, tightened his hold and pulled me beyond Lennox’s range without an introduction.

He sauntered as if wholly relaxed, smiled, and nodded placidly at those gathered to either side of us, marking our passage through a corridor between them.

Its invisible walls seemed to swell and push at me from all sides. The sudden urge to kick off my heels and run as fast and far as I could was strong enough to steal my breath.

What in dragon’s fire is wrong with you? I gave myself a mental slap and inhaled deeply, feeling my shoulders draw lower, pushing my chest forward, my rigid smile never wavering. I had no problem stabbing an attacker to defend myself, but a room packed with fae with nothing better to do than play dress-up had me quaking? Yes, I missed my weapons as if they were a limb that had been torn from my body, but I wasn’t exactly defenseless without them. Rush had said the courtiers played with deadly moves? Well, then I’d learn their damn rules and beat them at their own game. The alternative wasn’t one I’d consider.

Holding my head high, I projected ease—in this scene, in this clothing, with so many watchful eyes trailing my every move. A huddle of three fae women snagged my attention next; their ears were sculpted into more pronounced peaks than usual—another enhancement when so little about them seemed real. Combined, their hair was a fruit bowl: orange, lemon yellow, and lime green, piled atop their heads in heavy, twisted coils that seemed a single wrong move away from toppling. When Lime Green’s matching lime-green lips spread in what I was certain was meant to be an endearing gesture, I finally recognized her. This was the woman who’d called me—while in Zinnia’s body—a pig. The bully wasn’t on display now that I was a “distant relative of the king.” But not even such a drastic change in appearance could disguise what kind of fae she really was. When my steps slowed as we were about to pass her, she took that as an unspoken invitation, bringing her hand to her dress—its ombre shading from a brilliant, gem-encrusted turquoise at the hem to a sea green piping edging the bustier—and leaning toward me. Rush paused, and did he pull me even closer against his side or was that just my impression, a hope that I might have a friend here despite the fact that he was little more than a stranger I’d met only earlier that day?

Lime Green winnowed herself before tucking away the fan, artfully matched in tone and lined in feathers. “I look forward to making your acquaintance in a more personal fashion later, Milady Elowyn. I’m the Dowager Countess Dayana Tempest of Bendisantos. And this is my daughter, the Countess Natania Tally of Bendisantos.”

When that was all she said, I cast a pointed look at Orange, who was staring back at me. But the “dowager countess” pretended not to notice.

Fine, then. I returned my stare to her, but she was already batting her absurdly fat and long—sea green—lashes at Rush. “And it’s always a pleasure to see you, Drake Rush.” She leaned in his direction, partially obscuring Orange from his view. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a great deal more of each other soon.” She winked one of those ridiculous sets of lashes at him. For a moment, the upper and lower seemed to stick together, but then she opened them before I could relish in her near faux pas. “If I were a betting woman, and you know that I am”—she laughed huskily, and my free hand clenched with the desire to rip out her vocal chords—“I’d bet on you being our champion of the Gladius trials, and then you and Natania being the victors of the Nuptialis trials.”

She inched closer to Rush. “In fact, I am betting on that. I was blessed with some marvelous ideas for Natania’s wedding gown that our seamstress is so very in love with.” Her green lips drew out the words, and again I was tempted to make sure she could never make words like in love with sound so putridly wonderful again. “My Natania will make a splendid bride, don’t you think?”

The woman wrapped an arm around Lemon Yellow’s shoulders and jerked her forward.

I had to give her daughter a smidgen of credit. Her face frozen in delightful lines, nothing revealed her reaction to her mother’s interference. Or perhaps that was because, unlike me, she didn’t want to use the ridiculous green coils atop the woman’s head to yank her to the ground and then stomp on her face.

“Hello, Drake Rush,” Natania said, her yellow lips spreading in an equally flirtatious and demure smile I suspected had taken a lot of practice. “I’ll be wearing your colors and cheering you on at the fights.”

“Thank you, Natania,” Rush said with a kind nod. My body tensed against his side without my permission.

“Oh, what a beautiful couple you’ll make,” the dowager countess cooed. “Your wedding will be the talk of the decade.” She slipped her fan from a slim pocket in her waistband designed specifically for it, fluttering it in her face. “Dare I say,” she added conspiratorially, “of the century?”

She laughed, and when no one else joined in, she elbowed Orange—whomever she was—who instantly erupted into a fake trill.

The dowager countess tucked away her fan yet again. “Don’t let us delay you. We don’t want Her Majesty thinking you find us more interesting, now do we? And, Rush? Make sure to save a dance for Natania. She’s been practicing.”

“Mother,” Natania groaned under her breath. If not for the woman who’d spawned her, I might have thought of her as pretty with her light brown skin, vibrant green eyes, and pleasant features.

“I regret that I’ll be too busy for dancing with the countess tonight,” Rush said, and Dayana’s eyes snapped to him with the speed of a snake. He gestured toward me with his head. “With the Lady Elowyn.”

When Dayana’s gaze steered toward me, I scarcely managed to swallow down a hearty, Yeah, that’s right. I’m still here, bitch.

Dayana recovered quickly, squeezing my arm that rested on Rush’s while grazing his. “I have the feeling we’ll become best of friends, Elowyn. You’re one of the lucky ones.” With that, she stood taller, glancing around us for the first time since snagging me. Haughtiness dripped off her like dye running down her skin.

“No thank you,” I said.

Natania and Orange gasped.

Dayana shook her head as if to clear it of what she’d misheard, then smiled at me again. “Excuse me?”

Rush’s arm squeezed mine tightly enough to convey a warning.

I only smiled more prettily. “I said no thank you.”

“No thank you … what?” Her sea-green brows drew low in genuine confusion.

I blinked at her, but when she still didn’t seem to understand that someone might turn her down, I was forced to elaborate. “I don’t wish to become friends.”

She stared at me, shocked into silence long enough that I tapped Rush. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Dayana said. “No one refuses my offer of friendship.” Magnanimously, she swept an arm in the general direction of the others sharing the hall with us. “Everyone wants to be my friend. I’m favored by the queen herself.”

“Well, then,” I said, “I suppose there’s a first for everything. Rush, it’s time to see the queen. And king,” I added as an afterthought.

Rush dipped his head at Dayana, Natania, and Orange before leading us away.

As soon as we were out of their ear shot, he growled down at me, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, come on. She had it coming.”

He didn’t respond, nodding at those we continued to pass. I no longer cared to. That one interaction was enough to sour me on all of them.

“Tell me you weren’t tempted to do the same,” I prodded.

But he only pursed his lips—quite plump, beautiful lips, now that I was studying them.

Finally, he said, “The royal court has little place for wants. We do what we must. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“That sounds like a shitty way to live.”

“And yet it’s the only way to survive.” His response was softer, sounding somehow far away. Before I could ask more questions, like, Will you help me get out of this wicked place? I spotted the raised dais up ahead, at the far end of the hall. The one place in all the space free of mirrors, I hadn’t noticed it at first, all the reflecting light before it a distraction. But now I couldn’t stop staring.

The monarchs sat atop ornate wooden thrones, undulating shapes I couldn’t yet make out carved into them. Even from twenty feet away I could tell that the queen’s throne was slightly in front of the king’s. Not much, but just enough to subtly imply what I was starting to understand wasn’t subtle at all: the queen ran this joint, not the man at her side. If they ruled together at all, it was in name only.

She was in a dress like mine, only ten times grander. Her skirt flared even from her seat in a pure white bell with cool blue accents that precisely matched the lighting of the many chandeliers. Perhaps as many as a thousand tiny diamonds were woven along the hem and crawled up the skirt. For an instant I pictured Pru and how long it might take the dedicated goblin to produce something like this. The top of the queen’s dress hugged her chest, breasts, and neck in white as bright as untouched snow. Her hair flowed down and across her shoulders, shinier and softer than the woman it belonged to. Atop her head sat a crown inlaid with diamonds larger than I realized existed; dozens more small ones adorned her hair, woven through delicate chains of gold. She was a vision, though she still reminded me of an ice sculpture.

From far behind us now, the thin, tall man who’d announced Rush and me called out another arrival and then the orchestra finally began playing again, a jaunty melody that was surely meant to be lively but somehow felt haunting instead.

Rush’s arm on mine tugged me sharply downward, and it was only then that I realized he’d been bowing while I gawked at the queen.

“Your Majesties,” Rush said, and I mimicked him, struggling to catch up, wondering at how the queen had mesmerized me. She was objectively beautiful, yes, but I wasn’t one to be enchanted by appearances, especially when the core beneath the façade was rotten. Was it more of her magic? I needed someone to start answering my questions.

With my head still bowed, my eyes flicked to the king. To my father. Aware of both the monarchs’ attention fixed on me, I was careful to swallow down my regret that this man should have anything to do with me.

Like the queen, he was draped in fancier garb than the last time I’d seen him, but his pale sea foam suit, though elegant, dimmed in contrast to the queen. I suspected that was the point. Tonight he wore a crown cast in bright yellow gold, topped with a trio of sizable emeralds in the front. Though a stunning piece of jewelry, it too was overshadowed by the queen.

“You may rise,” she said, and once I did, I couldn’t help but notice how her attention fluttered over how closely Rush held me to his side. He must have noticed too as he loosened his grip, carving out several inches between us.

The queen’s eyes met mine. “How are you adjusting to life at court, Elowyn?” She said it as if I were a willing guest here on vacation, looking ahead to the prospect of an enjoyable time.

“As well as can be expected, Your Majesty,” I answered. When Rush’s fingers threatened to pierce my flesh with their pressure, I amended, “I mean to say, I’m still settling in, and I must admit to being a bit … confused by everything.”

“That’s to be expected, my dear,” the king chimed in with a boisterous voice so different from what I’d experienced during our first meeting.

Ah, his cheeks were rosy, his eyes slightly glassy. I didn’t know what kind of drink they had in this place, but it was evidently as strong as what we had in Nightguard.

“Give yourself time to adjust,” he added in an almost fatherly manner.

My eyes traced the twists and coils of the carvings of his throne. Dragons.

No, not exactly dragons. Dragon pieces. And in the forefront of the center lower panel, exposed between the king’s calves, was a man in a crown, holding a sword—standing atop a dragon’s beheaded body.

I allowed my gaze to meet the king’s again. “I was just noticing that your thrones detail the slaying of dragons. I was taught to protect them with my life.”

The king’s smile faltered before his eyes flickered to the queen. I waited, refusing to follow their path.

“Yes, well…” The king adjusted on his throne, and a fae servant materialized from the shadows to straighten his crown before quickly stepping back again. There were four servants, I only then noticed, two behind each of the rulers. Dressed in pale blue from neck to toe, they were meant to fade into the walls, which were decorated in a satiny light blue wallpaper.

“You’ll soon learn the ways and history of your people,” the king said. “Isn’t that right, my queen?”

Feeling my nostrils flare and forcing them not to, I finally looked back at the queen. Her blue eyes were alight like a flame.

“Yes,” she told me. “You’ll certainly learn your place soon.”

“Don’t do it,” Rush scarcely breathed beside me so no one else would hear. I was in the midst of doing my best to heed his advice—I was fond of my head right where it was. As unfamiliar as I was with the queen, even I could read the murder in that wickedly cold gaze of hers.

Then a high-pitched scream slingshotted through the hall.

It instantly silenced the orchestra before repeating. The person seemed to have paused to draw breath before letting loose the kind of cry that echoed … and rarely meant more than one thing.

The buzz of chatter rose like an ocean wave. Then there were more screams, softer but still shrill enough to fill the large space.

When I turned back around toward the monarchs, I found a wall of guards separating me from them. Where had they even come from, and how had I not heard their arrival? Half of them had drawn swords, the other half had arrows already nocked in their bows.

The queen stared straight ahead, waiting. Seconds later, another fae dressed in what seemed to be the uniform of her royal guard—blue tunics the color of the queen’s eyes beneath brown fighting leathers—sped toward her. The other guards parted as he bowed to her. “My queen”—no king, I couldn’t help but notice—“the Lady Aleeza has been murdered.”

My heart thumped, and I looked up at Rush, whose lips were pursed tightly together, his own hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his body tense and at the ready.

“How was she murdered?” the queen asked. And man, did she have the art of calm and collected down.

The guard straightened from his bow. “With an icepick through the heart, Your Majesty. It appears to be one of the satyr’s horns from the ice sculpture.”

“Ah.” The queen nodded. “They were sharp.” She sighed. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

Another scream rang out, and the king stood to be seen over the wall of guards. “Rush,” he bellowed, “get Elowyn out of here and to safety. Now.”

Rush looked to the queen, who scowled. “Go ahead.”

Before I could protest, Rush swept me into his arms in a lover’s hold and ran with me behind the dais, through a door in the wall—this one Rush-sized—and bolted down yet another tunnel hidden behind the castle’s walls.

14. SOMETHING LIKE THAT

While Rush ran with me in his arms, emerging from the man-sized tunnel to slip through a door in the wall and then into the palace’s labyrinthine corridors, my emotions warred with each other. I’d never been treated as a damsel in distress before. I’d trained all my life not to be one. Even the dragon protectors who’d denied me the recognition I craved had understood I was capable of defending myself.

A part of me wanted to bark at Rush to set me down. The larger part remembered that I was wearing absurd heels, that I was supposed to be pretending I didn’t know a weapon from a butterknife, and that Rush’s chest was firm and warm, and his arms were a delight wrapped around me. Despite the fact that we were presumably fleeing an assassin, my skin tingled everywhere it came into contact with his.

I blamed Zako. If he hadn’t been so diligent in keeping me away from the males of Nightguard so I’d remain a “maiden,” then I’d likely be more concerned about who had died and why rather than Rush’s heady sweetgrass scent. A few nights with Xeno would have been enough to keep me from wanting to climb Rush like a tree and get comfortable.

Xeno. Was he even still alive? He was a dragon shifter, so he could survive a lot, but an arrow through the heart, I wasn’t so sure. What if the bolt had been laced with some kind of poison or magic intended to put down dragon shifters? The questions stuck uncomfortably in my chest until Rush’s hurried pace jostled me and dislodged them.

What I had to remember was that Rush did what the queen ordered without question. He was apparently her favorite, the one she was lining up to succeed her to the throne. He was the very last person I should want to get closer to, and the fact that the queen had commanded him to sleep in the antechamber to my room when he had his own quarters should have been sufficient to have me jumping out of his arms like they were on fire.

I squirmed, and he pulled me more tightly against his chest. I glowered at my billowing skirts as a substitute for him. His face was too close, his pillowy lips too near…

“We’re almost there, milady,” he said, his voice pitched to be a reassuring comfort. It only made me roll my eyes, a gesture I didn’t think he noticed, his gaze continually scanning the walkway for intruders. He peeked over his shoulder every thirty seconds or so. “You needn’t worry. You’re safe.”

I opened my mouth, wasn’t sure what to say, and shut it. Damn the queen to the belly of the beast and back for all her artifice and deception. Even in my own body I wasn’t allowed to be myself. I might have only just met the queen, but already I knew I could trust her in one thing: she’d follow through on her threats. She’d find a way to hurt me through those closest to me. They might be few, but they were all I had now that Zako was gone.

Still … it was time to test how far the walls of my new prison extended.

Rush bolted through the door to my suite and slammed it closed behind us, his chest heaving beneath my ribs as he leaned against it, seeming to listen through the wood.

A minute passed before hurried footsteps and hissed comments filled the hall outside.

“You can put me down now,” I said, leaving the accompanying duh unspoken.

He only pulled me closer. “Once I’m certain you’re safe.”

I frowned. “We’re locked in a room and no one else is here. I think I’m pretty safe.” Of course, I could never tell where Pru was going to show up until she did, but surely he couldn’t count the goblin as a threat. The servants were everywhere in the palace while remaining unseen, scuttling around underfoot carrying all sorts of trays, baskets, and linens.

Rush surged through the antechamber and into the sitting area of my suite. As we passed the bed where he’d sleep, my eyes lingered as if they had a mind of their own.

He lowered me onto a settee as if I were made of blown glass, then jetted off to inspect all corners of my rooms, even peering under the beds before announcing, “All clear.”

“Wonderful.” I leaned forward to unclasp and kick off my heels, and when I sat back up, his eyes darted away quickly—too quickly. He’d been checking out my cleavage, I’d bet, which was doing its best to spill from my bodice.

Caught ya. I swallowed my smile. At least I wasn’t the only one resisting temptation.

Extending my legs along the lounge chair, I leaned back and groaned, allowing my head to rest across the cushioned back. “Oh my sunshine, it feels so good to get out of those things.”

When I realized I’d closed my eyes, I opened them to discover Rush’s attention traveling down the line of my neck. Again he glanced away for a moment before facing me. A hand rested on the hilt of his sword. His body was neither relaxed nor tense, and with as capable a fighter as he must be, that told me he was still anticipating an attack.

I sat up and patted the space beside me. “Come on. Sit.”

His brows arched. “I’m on duty.”

“And does being on duty mean you have to loom over me like this?”

He studied me for a few moments. “I can’t relax.”

“Fine. Then sit and don’t relax.”

Another few beats passed. “I can’t. If the queen were to discover⁠—”

“The queen’s not here.”

His gaze roved the room, seeming to search the soft shadows cast by the warm light that emanated from … somewhere. There were no fixtures or glowing orbs, no lanterns or candles. It was as if the creases between the walls themselves illuminated the space.

“Wait, can the queen see inside here?” I asked. “Because if so, I’m gonna have some real problems with that.”

“This is the palace.”

“And…?” I prompted.

“And that means the queen’s anywhere she wants to be.”

I sank back into the cushion behind me. “What the dragonfire does that mean?”

“It means, one should always behave as if in the presence of the queen. It’s important to comport ourselves with the respect her person and position require.”

My nose scrunched. “‘Comport ourselves?’ Really? What if I want to walk around naked? What if I want to feel the air on my skin … on my bare body … on my curves?”

His eyes flared. When he licked his lips—an unconscious gesture, I thought—I smiled on the inside. I might still be the maiden Zako had hoped for, but my thoughts weren’t as untainted as my body.

“Are you telling me I can’t undress and be naked whenever I want to?” I added, enjoying how those light eyes of his warmed.

“That would be a sin.”

I tipped my head toward him. “What, to be naked or for you to tell me not to be?”

I met his stare, and he held it for so long I began to wish I could read his thoughts.

He cleared his throat. “I think we’ve gotten off track here, milady.”

I tsked. “Call me Elowyn, please.”

“Only if you’ll call me Rush.”

I chuffed. “Well, what the hell else would I call you?”

He laughed, seeming to surprise himself as much as me. “You really are new to court life, aren’t you?”

“New as a fresh-born babe.” I winked. “And maybe just as naked.”

He laughed again, his fingers drifting from his sword to his belt, where he looped them through the leather. Already, I wanted to make him laugh again, to hear that rumble that warmed my insides.

“Please, sit,” I said. “You can perform your duty by answering my many questions.”

He hesitated.

“Come on, I won’t tell. Promise.”

Finally, he nodded, more to convince himself than me, I guessed, and sauntered over to an armchair, taking a seat.

“Don’t trust yourself near me?” I asked, shocked by my own boldness. It was true that I was no demure woman, but the most I’d done was flirt with Xeno, and this was beyond anything I’d ever attempted with him. Rush seemed to awaken something inside me that I hadn’t experienced before. With him, I wanted to be daring.

With him, I need to be more careful than ever, I reminded myself. He does only what the queen wants.

Rush leaned forward in his seat, drawing closer by inches, his arms draping between his knees. “Something like that.”

His eyes flared with a heat that suggested I was playing with fire, and unless I wanted to get burned I’d better keep in mind that I was a prisoner here.

I looked away, dragging my attention across the small table beside my seat, where a crystalline pitcher of water and an empty glass rested, anticipating my need. I busied myself with pouring.

“I’d like to offer you some, but there’s only one glass. Unless you’d like to share?”

“No, thank you.”

I nodded, studying the pristine water before drinking. “Who’s Lady Aleeza?”

“The companion to the Dowager Countess Dayana and the Countess Natania.”

I jerked to face him. “The one with the orange hair?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh my sunshine. We were just talking with her. Well, not her exactly. That Dayana lady wouldn’t let her talk.”

“Yes, the Dowager Countess Dayana⁠—”

“Could we please drop the titles? They’ll make me dizzy, I swear. It’s enough to familiarize myself with all the players without all that extra nonsense.”

Once more, his gaze lingered on me as if I were a strange and interesting curio. “Nonsense, huh?”

“Distracting,” I said.

“Here in Embermere, titles are everything. Power’s everything.”

“I’m starting to see that.” I frowned and took another sip before setting down my glass.

“The Lady Aleeza … Aleeza was inferior to Dayana and Natania by quite a lot. She wouldn’t have been allowed to speak without Dayana’s say-so.”

“That sucks.”

He gave me a regretful smile, but dropped it quickly after. “It’s the way it is.”

“If this Aleeza was so beneath the other two, why would someone kill her? Why not take out Dayana? Or better yet, her daughter, whom she was offering up to you as a prize?”

He scooted back in his chair, his legs dropping open wide. My gaze zeroed between them as if his crotch were a bull’s eye and I an arrow.

I snapped my attention up to his face before he could notice. I got lucky. He was staring blindly in the direction of the four-poster bed beyond the arch that edged this room.

“That’s a very good question,” he said before looking at me. “I don’t see any political gain from killing Aleeza, but then again, I’m not privy to the extent of her affairs.”

“Her affairs affairs, or her affairs?”

He arched both brows.

Sitting up straighter, I tucked my feet beneath me. “I mean, are you talking about sex? Like, was she doing the deed with someone she shouldn’t have?” Rush continued to stare at me. “The dragon with two backs? The horizontal boppity bop? The push and pull? The in and out?”

He blinked.

“Well, are you going to answer me or not?”

“Is this how everyone in Forzantos talks?”

“No, I’m totally unique,” I deadpanned. What do you expect of someone raised in a tribe of crass shifters?

“Obviously,” he said, sounding awed.

I leaned forward, wishing we were closer so I could shake him and get my answers faster. “Why would anyone kill her?” I insisted. “Do people get killed often around here?”

“Often enough.”

I startled. “What? Really?”

“Why do you think the queen’s called for the Fae Heir Trials for the first time in over three-thousand years? Prince Heir Saturn was murdered two moons ago. Since then, contenders have been traveling here. The tournament begins on the next new moon.”

“How far away’s that?”

“Eight days.”

A week for Rush to teach me the ways of the fae so I can hold my own in the contest.

“And Dayana expects you to win and marry Natania,” I said.

His exhale was heavy. “She does.”

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

He shrugged, meeting my eyes. “It’s not about me or what I want. I’ll win the trials and then marry whichever woman comes out on top after the final three contests, whomever the queen approves.”

“What if you don’t like the woman?”

Another shrug. “Then we’ll fulfill our duties to the people but lead separate lives otherwise.”

“That sounds … miserable.”

“It’s what Embermere needs.”

“Or is it what the queen wants?” I asked.

His smile did nothing to mask the heaviness in his gaze, making his eyes appear darker than they usually were. “Those are both the same thing.”

“Not to me they aren’t.”

“Again, you’re new to court life. You’ll learn.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You’ll learn.”

I chortled darkly. “Because it’s not a choice?”

“The kingdom always comes first.”

I didn’t bother correcting him, not even to point out that Embermere was in actuality a queendom over anything else.

Footfalls sped down the hallway, loudly enough to reach us where we sat.

“Don’t you need to go find out what’s going on?” I asked.

“No. The queen ordered me to protect you.” It had been the king; the queen had only given her reluctant approval. “She’ll make sure I know when she wants me to do something else. Right now, you come first.”

Again I held back from pointing out the obvious inconsistencies in what he said. “No one will come after me. I was only just introduced to the court. No one even knows me.”

“You’d be surprised how quickly news travels around here.”

“Okay, but even so, I’m no one important.”

“Obviously you are, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“You’d be, what? Guarding the queen?”

“Her royal guard is sufficient. She doesn’t need me.”

“But you’re that sure you’ll win the tournament.”

“I am.”

I smirked. “Arrogant much?”

“No. It’s not arrogance. It’s fact.”

“There were plenty of guards in the Hall of Mirrors just now who looked like they knew their way around a blade. Are you telling me there are no other guys from the fae clans that could challenge you?”

“There are several drakes who are formidable fighters.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on his thighs. The space between us seemed to evaporate to mere inches as the power of his gaze reeled me in. “I’m just better.”

I gulped, not even bothering to search for a retort. Right then, he had me convinced there might indeed be no one better out there, in the Mirror World or Nightguard. Hell, maybe not even among the vast human population.

“I see,” I mumbled. “So after you win the first part of the tournament, the fighting bit, then what, your bride gets selected in the next stage?”

“Not exactly. I’ll win the Gladius Probatio, which is the trial of skill as a warrior and commander, and then the female who’ll become my eventual bride in the arranged marriage will begin to be selected in the next three stages of the Fae Heir Trials.”

“How so?”

“After the Gladius Probatio comes the Nuptialis Probatio, then the Regius Probatio, and finally the Magicus Probatio, the four different competitions that together make up the Fae Heir Trials. At the end of it all, the queen must still give her approval of the male and female who are to be wed and become the official heirs to her throne and the king’s.”

“You fight in the first part of the competition. What about the other three?”

“They select the female who’ll be my best match from all the fae clan noblewomen who’ve traveled to be a part of the Nuptialis trials. Then we’re tested to make sure we have the political prowess to rule the Mirror World. And then comes the final trial, the most important one. The land itself must confirm that we’re compatible with its magic, that we have enough power to sustain the Mirror World of Faerie.”

“Shit,” I grumbled. “That’s … a lot.”

“It definitely is.”

“So the Nuptialis trials are like a … dating game, or a mating game, or something?”

“I’d never describe it that way, but I suppose so. A fating game, perhaps. Destiny plays a part.”

“I’ll bet.” I frowned, unable to discount the queen’s influence over “destiny.” “So what if a woman wins the fighting warrior part of the tournament, what then?”

He laughed. “You mean the people’s champion? Zinnia?”

I had to unclench my jaw to eke out the words. “Yeah, her.”

“Women don’t fight … at least, not with weapons.”

“And what is Zinnia, a dragon’s tail?”

He chuffed. “That’s a new one, but no. Zinnia seems nice enough, there’s just no way she’s a match for me, or for any of the other drakes or nobility, really.”

“How can you be so sure? You haven’t even seen her fight yet.”

“And how do you know that?”

Because Zinnia is me in glamor, I attempted to say, causing me to utter unintelligible squeaks before clearing my throat. “As you say, news travels fast around here.” I pointedly ignored my otherwise obvious ignorance.

Rush’s strong fingers absently caressed the throwing blades that hung from one hip. “In the Mirror World, females are forbidden from fighting. The queen’s made an exception with Zinnia, to honor the fae people.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s why she did it.”

Rush ignored the jab at his precious queen. “Becoming a skilled fighter takes more than desire. It requires real dedication. A devotion to arms that no woman has.”

I glowered. “Mmmhmm, sure.”

“The females have other interests, other ways to pass the time.”

“Let me guess. Gossip and sewing? Makeup and jewelry? Baking and child rearing? Back-stabbing and treachery?”

“Yes, that, but also they maintain the magic that governs the palace.”

“I thought the queen did that.”

“No, her power’s reserved for fueling the rest of the kingdom. The health and well-being of the Mirror World’s tied to her, not the king.”

“So I keep hearing. But what about Braque and Ivar?”

His pale eyes sharpened on me. “What kind of interactions have you had with them?”

The kind that feels violating. After the squeaks I’d now come to expect every time I attempted to tattle, I tried again with, “I know who they are.” Apparently, that was safe to say, and pretty much useless.

His gaze didn’t relax. “Braque and Ivar are from the queen’s bloodline. They have more power than many. They use it to do her bidding.”

“What of the dragons, then? Why are their heads lining the path to the palace? And what exactly is this mirror world everyone keeps mentioning? Is it just another name for Embermere? And why’s the palace so bright and colorful but everything beyond it drab, almost like it’s dying? Even the people on the way here seemed ashen and possibly even sickly.”

He stared at me for so long that I couldn’t help but realize I’d said something wrong, even if Braque’s spell allowed it. “What?” I finally asked.

“How can you be a relative of the king and not know any of this? How can you not know anything of the place you live in when you’re from Forzantos?”

Exactly! I wanted to say and wait for him to pick up on all the lies and the many unspoken truths between us. In my presence, the queen told him Braque made it so I couldn’t escape. If Rush would just follow that train of thought to what else Braque might have done to me…

But he stood abruptly.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To sleep.”

I rose too, moving closer to him. He was half a head taller than me. “But it’s still early. We didn’t even get to eat yet.”

“Your goblin will bring you food. I’ll be training early tomorrow. I need my rest.”

I just stared at him, and as I did his jaw softened, though his stare continued to study me a little too closely. “I’m a light sleeper. No one will get to you on my watch. You can rest easy.”

“Yeah, somehow I doubt that,” I muttered.

“You doubt my skills at protecting you?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

I dragged in a deep breath. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? We each have our parts to play. Goodnight.”

He seemed to want to say something different. “Goodnight, Elowyn.”

It was the first time I’d heard him say my name. There seemed little to enjoy about the fact that he hadn’t bothered to call me “milady” now.

He remained where he was for several moments before nodding, turning, and walking in the direction of the antechamber. When he was passing through the threshold, I called out, “Rush?”

He spun, his long silver hair trailing behind him, one of the many slender plaits landing on his shoulder. “Yes?”

“How long do the four probatio parts take?”

“Oh.” That one syllable somehow sounded disappointed, though I couldn’t fathom why. “Uh, well, the different competitions don’t have timelines. They’re based on however many rounds of elimination it takes. So it depends on how many competitors there are for each stage. We’ll find out exactly how many soon. But all in all, the Gladius Probatio should only take a week, and the Nuptialis maybe three at most. The final two will be shorter, maybe a week or so each.”

“So in as little as six weeks you could be engaged to be married to someone not of your choosing?”

He swallowed and tipped up his chin. The braid slipped off his shoulder. “Yes.”

“And how soon after will you be married?”

“As soon as the queen wills it, but I imagine she’ll have us married within a moon cycle. She likes things to happen quickly.”

“So I guess it goes without saying that love has no place in a marriage arranged by the queen?”

“None whatsoever. Will that be all tonight?”

“Yes. Yeah. See you in the morning.”

“I won’t be here in the morning.”

“Right, you’ll be training with Zinnia.”

His eyes narrowed by a fraction. “I didn’t mention training Zinnia.”

“Zinnia and her ‘piggy’ nature are the talk of the court.” It was a guess but an educated one.

He stiffened. “Is there anything else?”

Defeated, I walked back to the settee and slumped onto it, calling out, “No. It’s been more than enough.”

15. THIS LITTLE PIGGY IS VERY SATISFIED

“Where were you last night?”

The accusation defiled the peaceful emptiness of the barn, making me jerk as my hands sped to my lower back, where my blades should have been—but weren’t. Barely containing my disappointment, I let my hands drop, already knowing I’d find Millicent behind me. I might have only spoken with her once, but already her particular condescending tone had branded itself into my memory.

I glared at the ash blonde, who would be pretty if not for the bitterness seeping out from behind the façade, and bent over to tighten the laces of my new boots. I’d been tempted to dance a little jig when Pru had pulled them out of my closet this morning. “What’s it to you?”

Millicent harrumphed and pointed her nose into the air—I’d bet on it even without looking. “Everything that happens in the stables and barn is my concern. That’s why the queen sent me here. To supervise. She trusts me to command the goblins and to keep things running smoothly.”

I snorted. Without knowing all the specifics of her situation, I was certain that was a fib.

“What, you don’t believe me?” she asked. Her question was stiff and meant to be dangerous.

“What’s it matter to you whether I do or don’t?”

“Because I’m your superior, that’s why.”

Satisfied that my boots wouldn’t be a hindrance during my sparring with Rush, I faced her. Bored with her even before she began talking, I asked, “And what makes you think you’re my superior?”

She tsked, tilting her chin up some more just to be able to sneer down at me. “It’s not about thinking, it’s fact. I belong to the Potesantos clan. The drake and drakess of Potesantos are my second cousins. You, however, are nothing but another mouth to feed. A peasant. A hindrance.”

I studied the dress Pru had insisted on stuffing me into despite my fervent protests, debating what I could do to make it more fight worthy. I fiddled with the long cotton skirts. “By definition, a peasant is something.”

“You’re incorrigible. I don’t know how I’m going to survive having you here.”

“Back atcha,” I said, while weaving my skirts through the twist of fabric that passed for a belt at my waist.

She gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Again, none of your business. Feel free to go ahead and apply that statement to any future questions you might have for me as well.”

“It’s all my business, and you can’t walk around like that. What will people think? What will they say?”

“I have no idea, but I assure you, I don’t give a scaly dragon’s ass.” I tied the hem of my skirts in a knot around the belt on one side and proceeded to do the same on the other.

“Everyone’s right. You’re a pig,” Millicent seethed.

I felt my nostrils flare and had to focus to calm myself. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing she was getting to me.

I met her waiting stare and held it, pushing all my strength into my eyes, willing them to set her stupid, ugly face on fire.

When she blinked first, I allowed a wicked grin to part my face, and then started to walk around her.

She clutched my arm, yanking me toward her. Instantly, I broke her hold, grabbed her arm, rolled her over my back, and tossed her onto the ground. She landed on the worn wooden floor with a loud thud and a gasp as the air rushed from her lungs. Flecks of hay rolled over the wood from the impact as she wheezed, her eyes murderous though she couldn’t yet speak.

Footfalls pounded from behind me, delivering Reed at my side moments later. His eyes were wide with shock as he looked from me to Millicent and back again. “What happened?” he asked.

Instead of answering, I jabbed a finger in the air between Millicent and me. “Don’t ever touch me without my permission again. Are we clear?”

She pushed up onto her elbows and sucked in a deep breath. Her hatred vanished from her face as she transformed her features into that of a victim to be pitied. With eyes welling with unshed tears, Millicent told Reed, “She attacked me.”

“Oh my sweet warm sunshine,” I groaned. “I don’t have time for this shitshow.” I sidestepped Millicent, pointing at her frilly bloomers. “You might want to fix your dress. What might people think?”

She bolted up to sitting, pulling her knees against her chest and arranging her skirts around them. “Reed, stop her! She has to explain herself. Where were you last night, little piggy? There’ll be no messing around here.”

With one foot already on the sparse grass immediately outside, I turned a final time. “I was taking my pleasure from several men. All … night … long. They left me very satisfied, thank you for inquiring so persistently.”

It was a far more entertaining answer than I ate by myself in my guarded room, then went to sleep alone, more confused than ever. Or, apparently Braque forgot to account for how I’m supposed to be in two places at once while I sleep, and that’s on him, not me.

Millicent’s jaw hung open so wide I could fit my entire fist in her mouth. Reed, who hadn’t moved to obey Millicent’s commands, was studying me curiously as he tucked hair that had gotten free of the low ponytail he wore behind his ear.

As I walked the length of the barn, I heard Millicent yell, “Go get her! She can’t say things like that. She can’t do things like that.”

“It seems to me that what she does with her own time’s up to her,” Reed said. “And you shouldn’t call her ‘piggy.’ It’s unkind.”

She tsked. “It’s the truth⁠—”

I sped up so I wouldn’t hear the rest of what she said just as the sun broke free of the horizon, coloring the sky a vivid reddish orange I could stare at all day. In Nightguard, where the mountains were so tall, the sun rose late and set early, the sky had never once looked this stunning.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I turned to find Rush sauntering my way. I hadn’t detected his approach when I certainly should have. I hadn’t heard the royal guards the night before either. My senses had never been dragon shifter sharp, obviously, but that had only meant I’d intently honed them.

“More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen before,” I said, content to be able to tell the truth for once.

But that was before I dragged my gaze up and down Rush. He was draped in a well-worn tunic and britches that molded to his muscles, revealing every hard plane and curve, and scuffed boots that appeared thin and lighter than mine. His silver hair was pulled away from his face in several small braids, all of it gathered into a single plait that rested along his broad back. His lips appeared plump from sleep, and his light eyes were as bright as the sunrise. His weapons belt wrapped his waist, making me instantly jealous of all the sharp and shiny things hanging from it.

Rush nudged his chin forward, in the direction of the most colorful patch of red. “You’re missing it.”

I wouldn’t have cared except for the fact that I had to remember he was the queen’s favorite, which made him my enemy. Anyone who took orders from the woman who was keeping me here by threat of death wasn’t to be trusted. And the same went for the king—my presumed father. The man who’d ordered me kidnapped. Who’d indirectly harmed Xeno and possibly killed the only real friend I had in Nightguard.

Hardening my features, I gazed at the sunrise once more before announcing, “I’m ready to train.”

I gave Rush my best you’ve got to be kidding me look. He didn’t seem to notice as he stood in the middle of a paddock meant to hold animals and pointed to the different components of a dagger.

“This is the hilt or handle. Here’s the pommel or butt of the weapon, and the cross-guard or quillon. This here’s the blade, though you don’t need to remember anything right now other than the spear point here.” He tapped the sharp tip gently. “And this here’s the scabbard it goes into once I’m finished with it.”

“You don’t say.” I was surprised sarcasm didn’t visibly drip from my lips with how heavily I was lathering it on.

“Don’t worry if you don’t remember all the parts at first,” assured the fae warrior, who was apparently oblivious to my true reactions despite the fact that he otherwise seemed quite observant. “It takes time to pick up everything.” His brow bunched. “Though a week isn’t enough time to learn even the basics.” He nodded, seemingly to encourage himself. “But we’ll just make as much progress as we can. That’s all we can do.”

As he sheathed his blade without so much as handing it to me, he took in the skirt of my dress once again, but this time didn’t question the unusual state of my attire. He withdrew a couple of the slim throwing knives from behind his sword, laying them flat in his open palm. “These are throwing knives.”

It took all my determination not to roll my eyes.

“They’re used to attack a target at a distance.”

“Easy enough.”

His eyes snapped up to me as he chortled. “It might sound easy enough, but it takes real skill to hit your mark, especially when that target’s moving and potentially trying to hurt you.”

He bounced his palm in the air as if weighing the heft of the thin blades. “There are lots of types of throwing knives, just like with the dagger, but these are my favorites. A smithy back home made me the set, and I never go anywhere without them.”

I reached for one, and he yanked his hand away.

“Not so fast,” he said.

I sighed, loud and longsuffering.

“They might look like toys, but they’re dangerous weapons. They can take a life in the blink of an eye. You have to learn how to respect them before you can just go playing around with them.”

I plopped my hands akimbo and waggled my jaw at him. “Look, let me cut to the quick of all this. You don’t have time to waste, and neither do I. You’re only here training me because the queen ordered you to, and I know you’d probably be anywhere else but here with me. I’m sure you’d rather be going through your own exercises this close to the competition.”

He looked at me and exhaled heavily.

“Am I right?” I pressed. When he didn’t answer, I added, “Well?”

“Yes and no.”

I raised my brows in question.

“It’s true that I’m here on orders of the queen and king, but I don’t hold that against you.”

“I never thought you did…”

“Yes, I could use some real sparring this close to the start of the tournament, but this is the queen’s will. We must do this.”

My smile was brittle. “Fine. Then let me make this simple. How many of those pretty throwing knives do you have?”

“Seven. Why?”

“May I please see them all?”

He studied my face for so long that I didn’t think he’d do it, but in the end he withdrew all seven blades and laid them atop his palm in a row of overlapping silver.

“Will you please hold still?”

“What are you up to? You can’t use these yet. I haven’t taught you⁠—”

“Will you please remain completely still for me?” When he continued to hesitate, I added, “I promise I won’t do anything dangerous or that’ll get you in trouble.”

Finally, he nodded. No sooner had he done that, I grabbed the first four knives and whipped around while staggering the handles of three between the fingers of my non-dominant hand. With the other, I threw the first blade at a tree forty feet away from us. It landed with a nearly silent thud.

Thwack, thwack, thwack, I lodged the other three into the same trunk, then whirled to retrieve the final blades. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Next I turned back toward Rush, a devilish grin stretching my lips. This was the most like myself I’d felt since landing at the palace.

Hands back at my hips, I cocked my head to one side. “Now, do you think we can cut the beginner dragonshit already and do some real sparring?”

Rush’s eyes were so big I could make out that they were as silver as the moon. “Where did you learn to do that?” His voice was an awed whisper. “You’re a…”

“A female? Yeah, I noticed. I don’t need a twig and berries hanging between my legs to know how to handle a shiny weapon.”

He blinked at the perfect smiley face I’d lined up in the tree trunk—two blades for eyes, the other five for the curved line of the mouth.

“I see you’re going to need a moment,” I said. “I’ll go retrieve the knives while I wait.”

16. DOES IT WEAR A CROWN UPON ITS PRECIOUS HEAD?

Although the tournament was scheduled to begin in just a week, it rapidly became evident Rush hadn’t planned on sparring at all in our current lesson. Once he’d overcome the shock of witnessing my skill with the throwing knives, he’d beckoned toward the tree line. An instant later a goblin had materialized from who knew where and rushed to his side. Sometime later, the goblin returned with a second set of blades, delivering them to Rush while addressing him as “my drake.” I dearly hoped Rush would let me keep them. I’d longed for my own familiar weapons since I’d been first taken, but I doubted my blades would be returned anytime soon, especially now that Rush—and therefore eventually also the queen—was aware I truly knew how to use them. He might not realize I was one and the same as Elowyn, but the queen would be devouring every detail about Zinnia he shared.

He examined a short sword closely before handing it over, hilt first. As I received it greedily, he eyed me. “Your dress doesn’t seem suited for fighting.”

I chuckled grimly. “Ya think?” I tightened the knots holding up my skirts on either side. “I tried to talk Pru into getting me pants, but she wasn’t having it, and trust me, I gave it my all. But she’s a stubborn little thing.”

He began to saunter around the paddock, though his gaze was growing sharper. He was preparing to fight. My heart panged as the sight reminded me of Xeno.

“Who’s Pru?” Rush asked.

“The goblin who, uh”—serves, no—“attends to me.” To Elowyn. I was already getting tangled up in the queen’s web of lies.

Rush tipped his head to one side, studying me some more. “You know your goblin’s name?”

“Um, yeah…? Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Is he new or something?”

“He’s been with me since I first came to stay in the court.”

“How long ago was that?”

A muscle in his jaw ticced. “It’s been three years, six months, and nine days.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a long time.”

That muscle ticced again. “It most certainly is.”

“But I guess once you become heir to the throne, and then king and all, this will be your permanent home.”

“That’s right.” His light eyes darkened. Clouds had drifted in front of the moon.

I turned to face him before he could pass me. “Why doesn’t it sound like you’re happy about that? Isn’t it a great honor to become a royal? Isn’t that why there are so many fae arriving to compete for the chance?”

Rush blinked heavily, seeming to clear whatever thoughts he had. All expression dropped from his face. “Of course it’s a great honor. I’ve never said otherwise.”

“Nor would you, I’m guessing. Certainly not where anyone can hear you.”

He stared at me for so long that I wondered what he was seeing, which prompted the acute reminder that I wasn’t even in my own body. As the shiver of that fresh realization spread through me, he said, “You wouldn’t understand. You’re not a drakess of the strongest clan in the Mirror World.”

“That doesn’t seem like it should be a burden though, so why don’t you explain it to me, and while you’re at it, tell me more about the Mirror World.” And by that I really meant, Tell me something, anything, so I can begin to unravel what the dragonfire kind of place this is.

He passed me, then looped back around quickly, drawing his sword as he went, angling it toward me. “We’re here to train, not gossip.”

I glowered at him but clutched my own sword, adjusted to Zinnia’s shorter reach, and smacked his away with a loud clang. “I’m not gossiping. I’m just trying to understand. Haven’t you ever heard that knowledge is power?”

“Of course I have. You’d have to be a rock in the middle of a pristine forest never to have heard that.” He slashed his blade at me so quickly that I jumped back a step before I managed to block it. “But everything you ask, you should already know the answer to.”

“Oh really? Like I should know why you never bothered to ask the goblin who’s been helping you for more than three and a half years his freaking name.”

He whirled away from me, his sword glinting in the brightening light of the new day. “No one knows the name of their goblins. It isn’t done.” He lunged toward me, sword first, but now I was ready.

I blocked, crouched, lunged, and attacked. “And is it not done, as you say, because no one ever bothered to ask any of them if they wanted to share their names?”

“There’d be no point to it. Names hold power.” Our blades met over and again, the loud clanking of metal soothing my ragged edges. “No goblin would want to share their name with the class of fae that already holds such power over them.”

Clang, clang, clang, shiiing. “Except for Pru. I know her name.”

“But she didn’t tell you her full name, did she?” He twisted this way and that, his long hair spinning behind him each time, his attacks a blur of blades.

Pru hadn’t been the one to tell me her name at all; I’d overheard the queen. But I lost track of the conversation as I busied myself defending against his relentless strikes.

“How do you not know these things?” he asked while his assault continued. “Even if your family’s not of a class to have goblins, you’d have seen them around.” After a particularly brutal onslaught with the blade, he added, “Wouldn’t you?”

Panting, I grunted, “Could we talk later? Kinda busy here.”

“Surely you don’t give your real complete name out to anyone.” His hurried attack pushed me back against the fence of the paddock. I ducked out from under him, spun, lunged with my own attack, and pressed him back toward the fence.

He grinned. “I see my attempts at distraction aren’t working. Good, that’s good. If you’ve got any chance of staying alive, you can’t let them get to you.”

I growled and followed him around the ring, exchanging strikes as we went. “I intend to do more than just survive.” Though I still had too little idea what the infamous Gladius Probatio first stage would be like, other than that no one expected me to come out of it alive.

Rush laughed, blocked, feinted one way, distracting me with how his hair followed his movements like a sheet of water, then sliced the other way—managing to drive me against the railing and pin me there. The silver blade tickled against my bare throat.

“You’ve got to be faster than this if you want to make it out with your life,” he said while my chest heaved, my too large breasts cumbersome as they stretched toward my face with each breath.

“You try doing it in a dress that squeezes your ribcage so hard you can barely suck in a proper breath.” My throat bobbed dangerously against his blade. I’m not even in my own body, I tried, but though my admission came out in annoying squeals, I kept going. Just wait, I’ll get the hang of having shorter arms and legs and all the rest. Then you’ll see. I hoped.

His brows rose at all the squeaking mumbles.

“That’s right,” I said. “Put it all together.”

“Put all of what together?”

That a spell keeps me from speaking my mind like this and like the real me. You’ve heard us both now. Quite an intelligent spell it was, too. It somehow anticipated the content of what I was going to say before I uttered a single word. A sudden urge to slice the balls from Braque’s body surged through me.

“You’re very odd,” Rush said. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I like being just how I am.” I had no idea why I said that when it was about as ironic as a statement could get given my current predicament, but my competitive side cut through ordinary reason.

He pulled back on the blade by a hair. “As you should.”

I inhaled the sweetgrass scent of him and instantly wanted to lean into his arms—but of course he was holding a damn sword to my throat. I cleared away the stupid desire.

“And you should be more aware if you wish to survive the tournament … intact.” I scraped the tip of the sword I’d pointed at him across his junk, which bunched beneath a layer of tunic and britches. And though my touch was soft as a feather, he jumped back as if I’d punched him, dropping his own sword to his side.

“What the fuck?” he snarled, his eyes flaring.

I batted my lashes at him, a picture of innocence as pure as freshly fallen snow. “Enlighten me, teacher. I thought that in a match of life or death I should press every advantage at my disposal.”

“This isn’t a lethal fight.” With his shoulders tight with anger, he appeared even more dangerous than usual.

I pushed off from the railing. “But that’s what we’re here preparing for. No one, not even you, thinks I’ll get out of the Gladius stage alive.”

He glared at me.

“See? You don’t even deny it.”

“Still. There are some things you just don’t do.”

I laughed. “Why not? Is your dick a sacred, bejeweled wand?”

He stomped toward me. “Damn right it is. And you’d better fucking remember that from here on out.”

I craned my neck back to look up at him. “Does it wear a crown upon its precious head?” I hadn’t meant to taunt him, but it seemed I couldn’t help myself.

Rush’s jaw became as hard as the metal clutched in my hand, hanging loose now against my side. “He’s certainly magnificent enough for it,” he bit out.

I harrumphed. “Full of yourself much?”

“If I am, it’s with damn good reason.” With his free hand, he gripped his crotch, eyes twinkling, grin impish. I doubted he would have done that with the Lady Elowyn.

“I’ll do my best to keep that in mind,” I retorted. Or should it have been, I’ll do my best to forget it?

With all his prominent muscles, carved jaw, blazing eyes, and pretty face, Rush was a distraction I couldn’t afford. There was only one thing I should be focused on: getting the dragonfire out of this place and back to Nightguard to check on Xeno and then Saffron. Escape was the one and only goal, and the queen’s favorite, despite his beauty, was nothing more than an obstacle on my path.

Rush is the enemy.

I stepped away and did my own glowering. “Don’t you worry. I have bigger things to focus on than what dangles between your thighs.” I pushed a mocking smile across my lips.

His responding grin was wolfish. “Actions speak louder than words though, don’t they?”

At that fresh reminder, I growled and charged, sword first. He met my attack with his own vicious defense, and then I became lost to the mesmerizing rhythm of our sparring. The constant clanging was a comfortable harmony. My thoughts ceased their busyness, trusting my instincts to respond as Zako had taught me to when I was barely old enough to hold a blade.

Though my body was different enough from my own for every movement to feel odd, the motions were ultimately the same. As I’d done thousands of times before over the years, I zoned into the sense of the fight. I tuned into my opponent. No longer did I notice the allure of a man I could all too easily envision myself losing my maidenhood to. I registered only the signs that would allow me to anticipate his next move. Whether he was tiring or not. If he was predicting my own advances, when it was time to switch things up.

My sight narrowed into a cone that registered the drake only. His wickedly fast arms and hands. His strong thighs that allowed him to burst forward in a barrage of strikes against me.

I whirled, dodged, and did my own surging ahead that surprised him. I whipped my blade in every direction in a blur, all my attention fixed on how my sword met his and his body. How his blade moved toward me.

“Halt,” he grunted, but I was too in the flow to stop. I swiped at him, slicing across his tunic, drawing blood.

“Dammit, Zinnia,” he barked. “I said, ‘Stop.’”

My breath came in steady heaves as I nodded nearly blindly, still consumed by the fight humming through my veins, pumping along with my blood.

He stepped back and pulled off his tunic, tossing it to the side, where it curled around a wooden railing.

“Again,” he said, and before the word had fully fallen from his lips, I was attacking.

My skirts tickled against my legs, but I wouldn’t pause to look or fix them. His chest was now a blur of flesh that I didn’t stop to examine. My braids were heavy as they thumped against my back with my movement, but I didn’t bother tying them up.

Swerve, crouch, dodge, strike. Swipe left, then right, jump back, lunge to the side and forward, slash—and I nicked his britches.

His growl was the only confirmation he’d noticed. His attack grew more fervent, more unrelenting, and my skirts grew lighter and no longer scraped against my legs.

“Change weapons,” he said at some point, replacing his short sword with a dagger and tossing me one of my own. I bounced it in my hand, weighing its balance and heft, then crowded him, spinning to land my back against his chest, and point my blade up into his underarm, where blood pumped heavily.

A cheer rose loudly enough to have me blinking as I slammed back into the entirety of my surroundings. Where Rush and I had been alone in the paddock, Reed and Millicent somewhere in the stables, and Pru gone to wherever she went when I didn’t need her, now fae of seemingly all shapes and sizes sat on the fencing or curled over it. They clapped and whistled, and most of the unknown faces were smiling.

Except for Millicent, whose scowl was of legendary proportions. She wore it like poison distorting the otherwise pleasant angles of her features.

Stumbling away from Rush, I turned to look at him, unsure what to expect. How long had passed since we’d begun jousting?

He returned my stare for long enough that the chatter of our spectators grew louder as they discussed among themselves the spectacle we’d been putting on.

Finally, Rush said, “Well, well. This is definitely not how I imagined our first lesson going. I guess you have a few surprises stuffed up your sleeves after all.”

“You have no idea,” I muttered, examining how he indeed had done me the dubious favor of slicing away the extraneous fabric of my skirts. I was pointing my leg to make sure I hadn’t gotten cut in the process when Millicent leaned over the fence, her face so close to mine that I had to battle the instinct to “accidentally” elbow her so she’d back off.

“Drake Rush Vega,” she said, sweet as honey and nowhere as nice. “The queen sent a message. She wishes to see you and the Lady Elowyn right away.”

“How long ago did the message arrive?” he asked, stiff as a board.

“Oh, about the time you started kicking Zinnia’s piggy ass.”

He frowned, but I hardly noticed. I was too busy finally taking in his stretches of tanned skin across pronounced muscles, pulsing with the strain of our exercise.

And that wasn’t all. A trail of what resembled vines curled, swirled, and wrapped around his arms, shoulders, chest, and back. Unlike the dark tattoos so many of the dragon protectors wore, his were as bright as his eyes—glowing as if moonlit.

He was truly more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen before, I decided.

That made him the most dangerous person in all of Embermere.

“Your dagger,” Rush said in a tone that suggested it wasn’t the first time. He extended his hand toward me.

“No. I want to keep it.”

“You can’t. No fae in the royal court’s to have weapons unless they’re appointed guards.”

“You mean no female can have weapons.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant—part of it, at least.”

Millicent snorted, and once more I battled the instinct to smash my elbow into her nose. Violence still pumped through my system, taking its time to settle.

To sleep until it should awaken again.

“Females shouldn’t fight,” Millicent said. Even the tone of her voice grated against my raw nerves. “It’s unbecoming. And unnecessary, what when we have such fine fae as Drake Rush Vega to defend our honor.”

She pinned her attention on Rush, and mine followed. He was running his discarded tunic over his skin to dry the sweat. Millicent fell into silence while she appreciated the display.

“She can obviously defend herself quite capably,” Reed cut in, but I didn’t turn his way even though he was sticking up for me again. Rush was running his hand behind his neck, causing his bicep to swell enticingly. “She doesn’t need anyone else,” Reed added.

I heard as much as sensed Millicent lick her lips, and so I barked at Rush, “How long does it take to mop up sweat? Put your damn shirt on already. We’ve got to go see Her Majesty.”

He jerked his head in my direction. “We’re not going anywhere.” Damn. He was right. The queen had summoned Elowyn. “That was a good training session.”

“I’ll say,” interjected a fae who was half my size.

“Make sure you rest up and soothe your muscles before tomorrow,” Rush told me. “I won’t take it as easy on you then.”

I snorted, but before I could tell him exactly what I thought of that, he’d pulled on his tunic, taken the dagger from me, planted his free hand on the railing, and jumped over it. His belt with all its holstered weapons jangled.

I watched him go until he disappeared on the path that led down the hill and toward the palace. That was when I registered that I was the “Lady Elowyn” and that I now needed to make it back to my chambers before he arrived, presumably after cleaning himself. Or would he be in too great a hurry to do the queen’s bidding?

A handful of the smaller fae lobbed questions at me, but I offered them no more than a strained smile and ran toward the tree line.

“Where are you going?” Reed called after me.

Good question.

But no sooner had I disappeared from their view, gobbled up by the forest, than Pru dashed out from behind a tree to stop me.

“Hurry, hurry, we must hurry, before it’s off with our heads.”

How she knew to anticipate orders Rush had only just learned remained a mystery. She clutched my wrist and pulled me into a small doorway in yet another tree.

17. A DANGEROUS TIME IN EMBERMERE

When Pru pulled me through the small door in the wall and into my chambers in the palace, I was in awe that the goblin with legs much shorter than mine could hustle the way she did—all the while muttering some version of the familiar “Hurry, hurry, or off with our heads.” The queen clearly knew how to terrify her minions into fevered obedience.

Indeed, Pru was so desperate to satisfy the queen’s summons that she insisted on helping me bathe no matter how many times I reminded her that I was plenty capable of washing myself. Apparently, not fast enough. When I’d suggested Pru simply stuff me in a clean dress to save time, she’d nearly fainted at the idea that the queen might sniff out her inability to complete her assigned tasks properly. As seemed to be the way with Pru, in the end I simply surrendered to her will, panicked as it was.

While I hadn’t enjoyed taking constant orders from the dragon protectors back in Nightguard, at least I hadn’t feared them. I’d always known my head would remain where it belonged—fully attached to my body. The goblins had no such reassurance.

After Pru deemed me sufficiently elegant to meet with the queen, a glimpse in the mirror revealed that I’d become my true self at some point in the process, once more without any awareness on my part. How very unnerving that I could transform from one individual into an entirely different one without my knowledge. If Braque could do that, and the queen could immobilize me with a single snap of her fingers, what else could they do to me without my consent? Unease bubbled up my throat like acid while the small goblin pushed me through the door of my bedroom and into the antechamber where Rush was scheduled to sleep.

Our entry startled the man, whose return to the palace via the path above ground was apparently nowhere as speedy as the goblins’ hidden passageways. Rush stilled in mid-motion, his naked torso glistening, a wet washcloth hanging limply in a hand above a water basin. His composure returned quickly, and he resumed cleaning himself while I couldn’t seem to help but stare.

“Excuse me, Milady Elowyn,” he said, rubbing the wet cloth across the back of his neck.

I would have offered to help him if I could have gotten my thoughts and tongue to work the way they usually did. But I was staring at those tantalizing stretches of tanned skin, those beautiful, strong muscles, and those tattoos, whose light was dimmer now than it had been before.

I blinked. He ran the cloth across the hard ridges of his stomach. I salivated, and the act was ridiculous enough to snap me out of my daze.

This man was the enemy. Perhaps I should get the reminder tattooed on my own chest.

“We must hurry,” Pru said, unimpressed with the naked-chest fae warrior show that I found so dishearteningly entrancing. “Drake Rush Vega, we cannot wait.”

“I know, I know.” He shook out his hair behind him, the long silver strands catching the glow of the recessed overhead lighting that had no obvious source—another bit of magic I didn’t understand in a palace apparently filled to the brim with it.

“You’ll have to finish bathing later,” Pru pressed.

I aimed a glare at her. It was okay for him to put it off but not me? Pru, however, blankly returned my stare with those dark eyes of hers. All she cared about was obeying the queen’s orders.

When I turned back toward Rush, he had a tunic on and the trance was broken. I breathed in deeply as he snapped his fighting leathers over the shirt, strapped on weapons I continued to be envious of, grabbed my hand, and ushered me through the door to the hall.

None of us spoke as Rush set the pace and our direction toward the queen. Apparently it was all right for him to lead when the alternative was to suffer the queen’s wrath. He took every turn without pause, and by the time we reached the queen’s chambers my breath was coming heavily. Pru continually twisted her fingers together, seeming to wonder whether this would be the day when the queen punished her.

I wanted to punch the queen in the face hard enough to knock the stupid crown from her head. Power should be earned. It should be honored.

No sooner had we arrived outside her door, Ivar emerged, his thin brows low as he glowered at the three of us. “Her Majesty’s been waiting on you.”

Rush dipped his head at the queen’s attendant. “Our apologies.”

Pru might have whimpered behind me, but when I peeked down at her, her lips were pressed tightly beneath her too-long nose, and not a peep slipped from between them.

Ivar, in another crisp suit, this one a bright forest green, harrumphed. “You’ll have to take it up with Her Majesty and hope she’s in a forgiving mood.” He glared at us again. “Which she’s not.”

Rush nodded his acceptance.

I tsked. “We literally ran from the stables to our rooms to clean up for Her Majesty and then all but ran here. We didn’t stop to so much as catch our breaths. It’s unreasonable to expect us to arrive any sooner.”

So righteous was my anger that I didn’t notice the curiosity in Rush’s look or that Braque’s spell didn’t perfectly prevent me from revealing my double identity.

Ivar’s eyes became thunderous as he glared through the open door behind him before facing us again.

Pru cleared her throat. “Ah, please forgive Milady Elowyn, Lord Ivar. She’s still new to the ways of this great court. She’s easily confused, overwhelmed by the grandness of her new surroundings. I told her about being at the stables, and she took the story as her own. She, ah, is in awe of our majestic queen and forgets herself.”

I opened my mouth, forced myself to clamp it shut, and waited.

Ivar turned the full tempest in his stare on me. “You’d be wise to remember your place … and hope Our Majesty’s feeling generous.”

The wickedness of his smile that followed said, She isn’t.

Was the bitch ever?

Ivar stepped back, ushering us in. “Hurry.”

Pru nodded repeatedly and shoved me forward while I wished I could set the word hurry on fire.

We entered the same sitting room as the day before. In another magnificent gown, this one the color of rubies to match the gigantic gems in her crown, the queen stood facing three fae, who bowed deeply before turning to leave.

They were Dougal, Sandor, and Finnian, my kidnappers. Dougal, whose huge dragon ring flashed as he passed, sneered at me. Not burdened by the questionable morality of his actions, that one.

Sandor avoided my waiting stare entirely. But Finnian … he did look at me, and there was something in those eyes of his. A warning, perhaps? Or was it regret? Whatever it was, he was gone before I could decipher it.

Pru bowed as she scampered to stand along a back wall—hoping it would swallow her up, I guessed.

“Your Majesty,” Rush said, dipping low. Only once an arctic gale swirled in her eyes did I bend to do the same.

“You believe it unreasonable for me to expect you to come immediately when I summon you?” she said, her question cold and lethal. Ivar chuckled softly from somewhere behind us, but I didn’t dare turn away from the most important predator in the room—aye, in the entire kingdom—not even to give him the stink eye.

“No, Your Majesty,” Rush answered for me. “Lady Elowyn understands that your time’s the most valuable in all the Mirror World. Our desire is to meet your every demand, to support you in ruling the fae and our lands.”

“Elowyn can speak for herself,” the queen said, speaking my mind. Pru whined softly from her spot. Even without glancing her way, I was certain she was wringing her long, thin, gnarled fingers.

It was only the fresh reminder that the queen had already threatened to punish those I cared about for my behavior that held my tongue.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. I meant no disrespect.” The words tasted like rancid oil on my tongue. “We did do our best to get here as quickly as possible.”

“Then your best must become better,” she said, eliciting another whimper from Pru that was so soft I wondered if anyone else noticed. “Disappointing me isn’t a wise course of action, and you’ve already done so repeatedly.”

I felt my nostrils widen as I swallowed the words fighting to slip from my lips. You kidnapped me, you idiotic she-dragon! You’re holding me against my will, all but enslaving me. I owe you nothing but a dagger to that cold, dead heart of yours.

“Say something,” Rush breathed out of the corner of his mouth.

“Apologies, Your Majesty. I’ll do better.” Yeah, I’ll get better at punishing you for how you’ve treated me and for having poor Pru paralyzed with fear.

The queen looked down at me, and as she studied me I couldn’t help but notice our similarities. We were both tall and slender, though my muscles were marked in a way hers weren’t. Our hair was dark as a moonless night, though hers flowed like a cascade across her shoulders while mine had to be worn up like every other female at court save her. Our noses were straight with a soft curve at the tip, and our lips were wide and voluptuous. Except for the striking blue of her eyes in juxtaposition to the light gray of mine, I would have sworn she was my progenitor instead of the king, who looked nothing like me.

But no mother would look at her child as if she were dragon shit ruining a favorite shoe.

The queen hmmphed and glided across the room to sit in the largest of the armchairs. “If you indeed do better in following my orders, we’ll have no more problems. Now, both of you, sit.”

Rush was seated in an open chair before my feet had even begun to move. Swallowing a groan at my disgusting complacency, I dipped into the other armchair.

“This is a dangerous time in Embermere,” she said. “Since the beginning of the Mirror World, we’ve never been without an heir. The murder of my son”—her voice hitched subtly, and the tight lines bracketing her eyes temporarily softened, perhaps with sorrow—“has emboldened the traitors among the fae clans who aim to take my throne. They believe themselves immune to my wrath while they assassinate members of my court beneath my very nose.”

Her long fingers clenched the armrests beneath them until her knuckles paled. “It’s no longer safe here.”

When she stared seemingly blindly beyond us, Rush slid forward on his seat and asked, “Will you leave the court, my queen? To seek safety?”

She snapped her gaze on him. “Of course not. To do so would be to admit defeat. No ancestor of mine’s ever been defeated. I won’t be the first.”

“Has the killer from last night been found?” I asked.

A muscle in her jaw ticced. “Not yet, but I will find them, and when I do, they’ll die in excruciating pain, knowing their actions have caused the elimination of their entire bloodline.”

Dread settled low in my stomach like a river stone. Rush inhaled deeply as if to steel himself for the intensity of the violence to come.

“It’s less than they deserve,” chimed in Ivar, who appeared at the monarch’s side, proffering a crystal dish filled with colorful, sugared candies of some sort. “My queen is too merciful given what they’ve done to offend her.”

Delicately, she slipped a candy onto her tongue, sucking on it. “Perhaps you’re right, Ivar. They’ve murdered my son. My son. Committed the greatest offense possible in all the kingdom. And they’ve done it to hurt me. How dare they?”

She popped a second sweet in her mouth, adding, “When I find the cowardly traitor, I shall wipe out every single fae who lives in their clan’s territory. I’ll spare no one. Their betrayal won’t endure. I won’t allow it.”

“Yes, my queen,” Ivar said. “Your punishment will be the talk of legends.”

The man all but licked his lips, relishing all that potential bloodshed. What a match the two of them were. The stone in my gut sank a little lower. No wonder he was her right-hand man.

“Will I be joining your personal guard, then?” Rush asked. “To help ensure your safety?”

The queen glanced at him, seeming to consider the suggestion while she enjoyed her treats—as if talk of wiping out an entire eighth of her subjects were nothing of concern.

“As much as I appreciate the loyalty”—a vein on Rush’s neck pulsed for no apparent reason—“you’ll serve me best by becoming the heir. You’ll compete in the Fae Heir Trials as planned.”

“Very well, Your Majesty.”

And what of me? Of “Zinnia?” I wanted desperately to ask. But the fresh reminder of the queen’s nature stayed my tongue.

The ruler leaned back in her chair, and Ivar drifted away, apparently able to interpret every one of her unspoken instructions. “I hear that Zinnia surprises.”

How? I wondered. How had she heard faster than we could physically arrive?

My mouth tightened. Millicent.

The queen continued. “That she has the skills of a male.”

I frowned. I didn’t have the skills of a male. I had the skills of a female. If only the women of Embermere were allowed to bear arms, her mighty, bloodthirsty highness would see how much we could kick ass—preferably hers.

“That she does,” Rush said.

A flutter much like the caress of a feather tickled the inside of my chest, freeing it somewhat of the burden of the queen’s threats.

Rush rubbed the fingers of one hand absently along the muscle of his thigh. I couldn’t help but follow the motion.

“She’s got skills like the royal guards. However it happened, she’s a warrior.”

You hear that, Zako? A warrior? A slight smile tugged at my lips until the queen shot me a glare. She held her stare there while she addressed Rush.

“Then your skills are no longer needed in training her.”

“Am I no longer to meet with her in the mornings, then?”

“No, you’re to remain at Elowyn’s side at all times. As the king’s cousin, newly introduced to the court, she’ll be a target. As you know, Aleeza was his second cousin’s granddaughter, and Braque was unable to revive her. Whoever wielded that icepick knew what they were doing. Her death was instant, unable to be reversed even by our healing arts.”

“And what of my own training, my queen?” Rush asked. “The Gladius Probatio will begin in a week.”

“Take her with you. She can watch.” That subtle emphasis was an order directed at me alone. I was to pretend I didn’t know the tip of a blade from its hilt, like all the other females of Embermere.

I frowned, and the queen’s eyes flared an icy blue. Pru squeaked like a tiny mouse, reminding me she was still there. She didn’t even draw the queen’s ire though. I suspected the monarchs only noticed the goblins when it suited them.

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Rush said. “And what of the Lady Elowyn’s lack of familiarity with the ways of court? Is she to compete in the final three trials?”

The queen’s lips spread into an evil smile that silently told me: If she lives that long—which she won’t. To Rush, she said, “Yes, of course she is. As the king’s relation, she’ll be eligible to compete to become your wife. Do what you can to help her learn her way around court, but don’t strain yourself. You need to keep your strength for the Gladius Probatio. Besides, there’s only so much you can do. As you know, the courtier’s charm’s as dangerous as their secrets.”

“I know that all too well,” Rush replied. “I’ll be glad to help the Lady Elowyn as much as I can.”

“Just be certain not to help her … too much.”

“Of course, my queen. Whatever you wish.”

My eyes kept wanting to roll; I had to focus to keep them from doing so. “Your Majesty, how long will I be staying here? At the palace?”

“As long as I want you here.”

“And how long will that be?” I pressed.

“You heard the queen,” Ivar snarled, emerging once more from the shadows. “Don’t pester her.”

Then she shouldn’t abduct and threaten me, I desired desperately to snarl back at them.

I didn’t. If Xeno still lived, he wouldn’t survive whatever the queen would do to him to get at me. And Saffron… The mischievous dragonling wouldn’t have his head mounted on a pike while I drew breath. I wouldn’t allow it, no matter the price.

The wicked queen studied me, Rush, then me again. Her crown glittered with rubies the size of my fingernails. The gems lined the front of her golden crown and dripped down gilded chains that framed her face.

As evil as the queen was, she was just as gorgeous.

Finally, she said, “Rush, step outside. I’d like to speak with you in private after I talk with Elowyn.”

In mere moments, the door was shutting behind Rush, leaving me alone with the queen—and Ivar and Pru.

The queen’s features hardened the moment the door’s latch snicked. “You aren’t here to charm or beguile anyone.”

I felt my brow furrow. “What the…? What are you talking about?”

“That’s no way to address your queen,” Ivar hissed from the vicinity of the double doors.

The queen raised a hand in his direction, and he quieted. “I’ve only allowed you here,” she continued, “because the king desires it. I’ll allow you to compete in the Nuptialis Probatio. But under no circumstances will you win. Rush will marry someone else of my choosing, not you. Do you understand?”

I certainly didn’t want to marry Rush. I didn’t want to marry anyone! But the idea of him marrying one of the many vapid drakesses or countesses like Natania was about as comforting as a blade to the neck.

I cleared my throat. “I don’t want to be an heir to your throne.” Like everything else about her, I wanted only to set it all on fire. If she still sat on her throne when I did it, all the better.

“Yes, I see that’s what you believe, you ignorant fool. But everyone wants power like I have.”

I shook my head. “Not everyone.”

“There are only those who admit to themselves they want power, and those who don’t. There’s nothing in between.”

“Why, how very black and white of you.”

Ivar hissed again from the doorway but didn’t speak.

“So what’s the deal with Zinnia, then? Do I still have to pretend to be her? Will I still fight in the Gladius Probatio thing?”

“You will.”

“Why?”

I could sense Ivar itching to hasten to his queen’s defense. As if she were made of delicate porcelain instead of thorn-encrusted cruelty and vengeance.

“Because the king wants to see his bastard child become an heir, which means he must see you in the ring.”

“You mean because you hope I’ll be murdered in the fight.”

She shrugged. “It’s well known that the fae enjoy violence. The king won’t hold your death against me if you die by another’s hand. And people always die when fae draw arms against each other.” A deranged-sounding giggle slipped out around a piece of candy. “We’re a passionate race.”

“Mmm-hmm. Why not just have me assassinated and be done with it?”

She tsked, shaking her head. “Don’t you know anything, you stupid girl? Life’s a game, and that’s not how it’s played, at least not if you want to win. If you’re taken out too early, too conveniently, the king will suspect me.”

“I wonder why,” I said dryly.

“But if you die at Rush’s hand, he’ll never look to me.”

“He’ll know Rush obeys your orders.”

She waved a hand in the air and scoffed. “Everyone follows my orders. It will just be how things go down in the match. How regrettable. How sad and unfortunate.” Her features became a mask of feigned lament.

As if she were reading my mind, she added, “If you try to escape before the Gladius Probatio, your little friend Xeno will die.”

My heart thumped. “So Xeno’s alive?”

Her nostrils pinched. “There’s only one way you’re going to find out. And that disgusting dragon spawn you’re so fond of? I’ll gut him from tail to snout, turn him into a chocolate fountain, and make it a feature in the Hall of Mirrors for my courtiers to admire.”

I suppressed a shiver, refusing to allow my mind to conjure that gruesome image of sweet, troublemaking Saffron. “So I’m just supposed to wait around for you to have me killed? That’s stupid.”

She fiddled with the droplets of glimmering ruby hanging along her face. “We all have to pay for the sins of our forebears. This is your destiny. Just as I have mine.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re dismissed. Oh, and if you happen not to care enough about this Xeno and the ugly little dragon, then know I’ll also kill your goblin and a hundred more if you so much as think of escaping.”

I froze, my pulse beating in my throat. “You wouldn’t.”

Her smile told me what I already knew: she would, and she’d enjoy it.

When Pru didn’t so much as squeak, I turned in my chair to seek her out. Her face had blanched. She stood against the wall, pale as if she were already a ghost.

“Oh yes,” the queen said. “I heard that too. You’re partial to the hideous creatures.”

My eyes narrowing, my jaw hard as the mountains of Nightguard, I whispered, “You’re evil.”

“No, darling. I’m formidable. And formidable queens wield their power as a weapon.”

“Your people can’t love you, not like this.”

“Silly girl, I don’t need their love. I need their devotion, and that I have.”

“Fear and devotion aren’t the same thing.”

“And that, once again, proves how little you know. Ivar, escort her out. I don’t want to speak with her again until I’m shedding tears over her dead body.”

Ivar was at my side in a flash, wrangling me out of my seat by my arm. As he led me to the door, I twisted toward the queen. “You won’t get away with this.”

She sighed as if bored. “I already have. I might not have known you existed until a few days ago, but you’ll serve me well in the end. Everything’s going to plan.”

I had a million things to say to her, most including colorful curse words, but Ivar was shoving me out the door before I could speak any of them. He all but pushed me into the arms of royal guards, who stood to either side of the ornate, gilded double doors, and announced, “Rush, Her Majesty will see you now.”

Rush went in, Pru slipped out, and Ivar slammed the door behind him.

I blinked at the painstakingly carved swirls in the doors that were meant to resemble vines, barely seeing them at all.

I couldn’t shake the sense that the queen was right, and she’d already won.

18. BLOOD OATHS AND ENCHANTING ILLUSIONS

Several days after my talk with the queen, Rush and I had settled into a routine. During the mornings, I sat and observed while he sparred with other drakes and contenders. We then took lunch together, during which he schooled me on the ways of the court while his suspicions about my evident ignorance grew. In the afternoons, at my insistence, we explored the palace and its grounds. In the evenings, we joined courtiers in one grand room or another, where it became increasingly obvious that their skills at backstabbing and scathing criticism were unsurpassed.

Remaining as inconspicuous as possible, Pru followed me most places, never part of the conversation unless I involved her. Never part of anything of her own volition.

The more familiar our routine became, the more it unsettled me.

The queen intended for me to sit around with my thumb up my ass while she indulged in the palace’s opulence. While her people beyond the court lived in squalor, she happily anticipated my upcoming murder.

And I was supposed to just wait to accept it once it arrived.

The queen clearly didn’t understand me at all.

She’d guaranteed that I couldn’t escape; there was no way I’d have the death of so many on my conscience. I had no doubt the queen would follow through. But I also refused to whittle away the time until my end. It might be true that here everything was different, and I had even less power than in Nightguard, where I’d feared I hadn’t had enough.

But every obstacle could be overcome. Every challenge solved. It was a matter of mindset, determination, and the ability to kick some royal fucking ass. It simply had to be. It was the only alternative I’d accept. I was too young to die, too fierce in my heart to go down without kicking and clawing all the way.

The queen’s plan for my death would almost certainly involve more than she’d told me. But no matter how much or in which way I asked Rush for information about what she’d told him in private, he refused to share. The more I pressed, the more he clammed up, the more distant he became.

I was isolated and alone, being prepared as an offering to a queen with a putrid heart. And my supposed father? I’d only seen him at the far end of whatever hall Rush led me around during our forced evenings together. He never took me near the monarchs though, not even when I requested it. Whatever the queen ordered him to do involved disassociating me from the only potential ally I might have. The king was glaringly too weak to do anything about it, if he even noticed or cared at all.

“Come sit with me, Pru,” I called out to the air around me. I rested atop a chair at the edge of a sparring ring. I had no idea where the goblin was but she was surely watching me from somewhere.

This field was far removed from the paddock behind the stables, on the opposite end of the palace grounds, concealed by elaborate gardens that were pruned into submission. Like everything else at court, the queen told the plants what to do and they complied, else she’d probably order them uprooted, chopped into little pieces, and then pissed on. The woman grew more charming the more the agonizing days passed.

The fighting arena was well used. Scratches and grooves from unnumbered struggles marred the ground. My wish to be able to join the sparring to leave my mark was a tangible pulse beneath my ribcage—one more thing to tamp down.

A drake of the Leantos clan fought Rush, who once more was shirtless and a highly annoying distraction. Not only was he my enemy, he was my appointed killer. I needed to stop admiring his form and skill before I forgot his role in my short life—yet again.

“Pru,” I called out another time.

Seconds later, the goblin appeared at my side, blinking those dark eyes up at me, wringing her hands in front of her frayed housedress. “Yes, Mistress, what do you need?”

“Company. Sit with me.”

“You know I can’t.” She scanned all around us beneath a clouded sun. All the contenders were hanging around the enclosure, either waiting for their turns, shouting encouragement and insults, or all of it.

“Surely there’s no one watching here,” I answered.

“There’s always someone watching.” Pru continued to scan our surroundings. “And listening. Mistress shouldn’t forget it.”

I groaned and allowed my head to thunk against the back of my chair. “I’ll tell the queen I asked you to accompany me?”

Pru’s knobby features scrunched in empathy. We both knew damn well the queen wouldn’t care.

“Then, can you make yourself invisible or something so we can hang out?” I asked.

Pru jerked her weak chin back. “Goblins don’t have that kind of power.”

“What kind do you have? What can you do with it?”

Pru peered up at me, suspicion glimmering across those deep, dark eyes.

“I promise you I won’t tell anyone,” I offered.

That caused another jolt of her chin. “You would … you’d make an oath to a goblin?”

“Sure, why not?”

She harrumphed. “Oaths are taken very seriously in Embermere. They’re not a joke.”

I sat up straight, whipping around toward her. “Who says I’m taking them as a joke? What, you don’t think I have integrity? Because based on everything I’ve seen since I’ve gotten here, I’m one of the few who does. This place is as crooked as a snake with somewhere to be.”

She hmmphed again, tilting her head away as she appeared to consider me.

“Fine, don’t tell me. Whatever. I’ll figure out this horrible place all on my own. You know, before the queen has me killed for being here after her husband had me brought here against my will.”

Obviously, Pru realized just as well as I that no one else was willing to tell me anything useful. Oh, sure, Dayana, Natania, and dozens more like them would joyfully tell me what they thought of so-and-so’s outdated dress, hairstyle, or accessories. Or who was screwing whom that shouldn’t be. Or, somewhat more interesting, who was blackmailing whom and why. But whenever I brought up anything of substance, they redirected the conversation to yet another inane topic.

If Rush didn’t kill me, I’d probably die of boredom soon anyway.

I longed for my weapons, for the challenge of my training, the burn of well used muscles … even for the cold mountain air of Nightguard. By dragonfire, I missed Saffron and his blasted ability to get in my way at the most inconvenient of times. In comparison to this, I’d actually enjoy tripping over that tail of his that was always where it wasn’t supposed to be. At this point, I’d probably even have fun hanging out with Malessa, the second ranking dragon protector who had the personality of a blood-encrusted mace.

I longed for Xeno’s friendship and his welcoming smile. The warm arms of his embrace. I yearned for Zako’s guidance and comfort—his reprimands, even—as if he were actually a missing piece of me. If he hadn’t gone and died, I wouldn’t be here. He would have never stood by and let Dougal take me away.

Would he have…?

Or had his affection for me been merely an extension of the king’s orders?

When Pru still hadn’t relented, I smiled sadly at her. “Don’t worry about it. I understand. You gotta do what you gotta do to keep safe. I’m probably the last person you should be seen talking to.”

I faced the fighting ring—a patch of thin grass in a clearing amid sparse trees, cordoned off by vines—and prepared to resist what felt like the actual physical itch in my arms and legs to join the men. To fight. To do something useful. Playing dress-up while being paraded all around the palace and its grounds felt like a stay of execution.

After arranging the lengths of iridescent periwinkle blue taffeta of my skirts, I sank back into my chair, crossed my feet at the ankles, and allowed my gaze to drift to Rush and the muscles on display I couldn’t seem to resist, no matter his orders—or his destiny. No matter mine at his hands.

He and the other drake were grappling. Sweat glistened across Rush’s back, chest, and shoulders. His tattoos shone, their light seeming to move as he did, as if their positions were transient designs across his body—both works of art.

He tossed the other drake to the ground, braced his forearms and legs, and held him there while the man thrashed and bucked beneath him. Then Rush glanced up at me. Our eyes locked⁠—

And his captive rolled over Rush, gaining the upper hand.

“Goblins can’t become invisible,” Pru whispered tentatively, “but we can blend into our surroundings so no one notices us unless they’re specifically looking for us. Only if they know we’re there.” She stepped closer, hesitating. “You’ll make a true oath with me not to repeat what I tell you?”

I dragged my full attention back to her, blinking away the lure Rush had over me. Having only half heard her, I answered, “Yes, of course. Tell me what to do.”

Like heat waves, Pru shimmered, and next her body was there … and also not. A tenuous mirage. A specter. Tentatively, I reached out toward her … and tapped a fingertip to her shoulder.

“Solid,” I whispered in wonder. “But I can see right through you. You’re right, I wouldn’t know you were here if I didn’t, well, know you’re here.”

Pru stared at me, bored. “Yes, I know.”

A chuckle surprised me. Pru had been hiding a personality. “So, this oath?”

“A blood oath.”

My forehead scrunched up. “Blood?”

“It’s the way it must be. Every good oath requires blood.”

I might know next to zilch about magic, but I did know the very basics, including that your blood could be used for nefarious purposes. In one of the fairy tales Zako had gifted me, The Love-Sick Ogre and the Half-Dead Troll, the troll had made the grave—and deadly—mistake of giving his blood to the ogre, who’d traded it to a witch in exchange for a batch of her love-inducing cookies. The ogre had an unrequited crush on a fairy that he was looking to snare. The moral of the story couldn’t have been clearer, and yet … Pru seemed more trustworthy than most, other than perhaps Reed, and despite my persistent efforts, I hadn’t managed to return to the stables to visit him.

What did I have to lose, anyway? Knowledge would forever be power, and I was woefully short of both.

“Fine,” I eventually said. “Blood. Let’s do it.”

Pru’s limp hair vibrated as shock rolled through her. “You’ll actually do it?”

“Sure. How’s it going to work?”

“Easy.” Pru reached beneath her frock and emerged with a small sewing kit. Always to be at the ready to mend a lord or lady’s clothing, I guessed. But this kit was marvelous. Closed, it was merely the width of two of Pru’s fingers; when unrolled, it kept going and going—until it was as long as one of her big dragon feet—to reveal a pair of full-sized scissors; a knife, which I could use to stab someone, for tearing seams; an array of needles, pins, chalk, tape, and other tools I was unfamiliar with.

“What else do you have under there?” I asked in awe.

A smile tugged at her thin lips, the first I’d ever seen from her. “That’s one secret I’ll never share.”

“Color me curious,” I whispered.

She selected a fat needle used for sinew, then extended it toward me, tucking the kit beneath her arm. “Finger, please.”

I held out a pointer. She pricked deeply enough to sting, did the same to her own finger, then pressed together the matching beads of blood—mine was a bright red, hers an equally vibrant grass green.

“Ooh,” I yelped.

Pru stilled. “Are you all right, Mistress?”

“Yeah, it’s just that … your blood, it feels … odd. Tingly.”

She frowned. “Would you like to stop?”

“Are you kidding? No! Of course not. I need to know all that I don’t and I need to know it, like, yesterday.”

“There’s no amount of time that could encompass all of that but⁠—”

“I didn’t mean it literally, Pru.” I scowled. “Now, what’s the oath?”

“You go first. Repeat after me.”

I nodded.

“I, and then say your full, complete name.”

My mouth tugged downward. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone my full name or they could use it against me.”

“Yes, but we’re making an oath. I won’t be able to use it against you after that.”

“But you’re making me go first.”

Daring, she stared at me. “I am.”

I waited before, “And that’s the only way it’s going to be?” I guessed.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Damn … I guess I can’t blame you. Seems like no one around here treats you with a lick of respect.”

I only noticed how much tension she was carrying in her shoulders when she relaxed them by a fraction.

“All right,” I said, steeling myself, though if Braque could do a complex spell on me capable of entirely changing who I was and I didn’t feel a thing, I probably wouldn’t notice another enchantment either. “I, Elowyn Xiomara Ashira of…” I chewed on my bottom lip, deliberating. “Of Embermere?”

Pru nodded encouragingly. “…do swear under a binding blood oath that incurs immediate death if broken…”

Reluctantly, I repeated the words. What was another death threat in a sea of them, right?

“That everything the goblin known to me as Pru tells me in confidence…”

“That everything the goblin known to me as Pru tells me in confidence…”

“Will remain a secret to my death. I’ll never tell another soul.”

Once more, I parroted the words.

Satisfied, she began, “I, Primrose Dewley Walleye Longnose Brittlefoot Dragonheart, daughter of Chauncey Norreye Wigglebottom and Vickrose Lorrey Tassletail, granddaughter of Edsel Vernine Rockear, all of the Ashburn clan of goblins, do accept Elowyn Xiomara Ashira of Embermere’s binding blood oath. She agrees to keep in confidence everything I tell her in secret here and forevermore or she’ll incur the wrath of all the goblins of the Ashburn clan and die a bloody, gruesome, and horrific death, filled with all the pain the goblins as a race have suffered since the birth of the very first goblin.”

I pouted. “Is that really necessary?”

Her cheeks flushed, delivering color to her usually ashen face. “Sorry. I got carried away. It’s my first blood oath with someone who’s not a goblin. Among my people, the more intense the punishment, the more impressive.”

“Dandy,” I replied, dry like a desert.

Pru stared at me, perhaps expectantly.

“Well?” I prodded. “Is that it or what?”

“That’s it, I guess. We just smush our fingers together like this”—her tongue peeked between her many sharp teeth as she put real effort into mingling our droplets of blood—“and the oath should work.”

“Should?”

She grunted. “Yeah, my granddoody’s the real expert. He’s legendary for all the oaths he’s made. Or was, anyhow.” The color drained from her cheeks. “No one dared break a pact with him.”

“Is this by chance the Edsel the queen brought up the other day?”

Pru separated our fingers. My fingertip pulsed as if it had its very own heart. Pru stared down at hers in wonder.

“Pru?” I prompted.

“Yeah? What?”

“Is the Edsel the queen mentioned your … granddoody?”

Her eyes hardened into glittering onyx. “He is, but I don’t want to talk about that, oath or no oath.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But will you sit down and relax with me?”

She snorted but lowered herself on the ground in front of me, crossing her legs as she went. “Relax. As if that were a thing we goblins do. We don’t even relax once we’re dead, I’d bet.”

“That’s … rough,” I finally decided on.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“So tell me. I want to know, I really do.”

She and I both waited as a goblin, this one a male—based on his threadbare tunic and britches that hit below the knee to reveal another set of dragon feet, these covered in ochre scales—appeared seemingly out of nowhere to offer the drake of the Leantos clan a beverage after Rush delivered his defeat. Next, two goblins, both also males, emerged from the background with a proffered drink and a clean cloth for Rush to pat at his sweaty brow.

And sweaty shoulders, arms, chest, abs … and lower. Surely his muscled thighs could use a wipe-down too, along with what hung between them…

He looked up, perhaps sensing that I was once more ogling him. Whatever he read in my face made him chuckle—then grin like a wolf. Mortification raced up my neck and cheeks while the others laughed and heckled, now both about me and the heavy loss the Drake of Leantos incurred.

Before I could embarrass myself further—and at this point I had little doubt that I would—I pinned my eyes on Pru, proving to Rush and the rest of the jackals that I was riveted by the goblin, whom the others might not even be able to see. For all I knew, to them, I was having a conversation with thin air.

So be it.

Pushing away searing images of Rush and that devilish, dimpled grin that seemed to promise all sorts of forbidden delights, I asked Pru, “Please, tell me something, anything.”

“To get your mind off Drake Rush Vega?”

I tsked and glowered. “It’s that obvious?”

“Only if you’re looking.”

“Damn.”

Pru waved a nonchalant hand. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Every female fae at court wants him to be hers, some males too. Even some humans, come to think of it.”

That fact was sufficient to forget that Rush was probably even then brushing his moonlight hair away from his neck and drying himself more, every muscle rippling.

“There are humans at the court?” I asked.

“Some, yes.”

“How come I haven’t seen any?”

“The queen orders them hidden from ‘polite view’ so no one sees their vacant eyes and lost expressions.” Pru fiddled with a strand of grass at her feet.

“So they’re here against their will, just like me?”

“Against their will, yes. Like you, no. I don’t think any of them were kidnapped. They arrive on their own, thinking the Mirror World will be one of enchantment and magic.” Pru chortled darkly. “It is, but not in the way they think, and by the time they figure it out, it’s too late. They don’t even realize they’re trapped.”

“Oh my sunshine. That sounds awful.”

Pru shuddered. “It is. I do my best to stay away from them and the lower floors. I don’t like seeing them.”

Even with Pru so forthcoming, I didn’t want to ask. I was already certain of their fate. Once the humans arrived in Embermere, they never left.

Metal clanged against metal, and we both turned toward the ring. Rush stood in the middle of the onlookers, and two fresh men circled each other behind the cordon. Rush looked my way, and I hurried to return my attention to Pru before he could snag my eyes. Every time he did, an electric heat tingled through my limbs, and I could do without that. My survival had to come first, and he was standing between me and my goal.

Frowning heavily, I crossed and uncrossed my feet.

“He probably doesn’t have a choice in the matter,” Pru said softly.

“Everyone has a choice.”

“Not always.”

“Yes, they do. The choices might not be good ones, and they might even be downright terrible ones, but there’s still always an option. If he tries to kill me, it’ll be because he chooses to.”

“If Mistress thinks so.”

“Come on, Pru. I think we’re past the whole ‘mistress’ thing, don’t you? We just swapped blood.”

She giggled, actually giggled. “I suppose so. But if the queen catches me addressing you by your given name, she’ll have my hide along with my head.”

I growled. “Damn that woman! She’s the one who should be killed and save everyone else the trouble.”

Pru’s head snapped in every possible direction before she looked at me again, eyes wide and earnest. “You can’t say that ever again. It’s not just the walls of the palace that have eyes and ears. The trees do too. Even some of the birds work for the queen, and the more poisonous of the flowers.”

“You mean a spell of some sort, right? Not actual eyes and ears.” I laughed nervously.

“I mean both.”

I swallowed. “Actual eyes and ears?” I flicked an earlobe, exposed beneath a complex twist of braids and swirls I had no chance of replicating without Pru’s nimble fingers.

The goblin nodded solemnly.

“Oh shit,” I whispered.

“Yes, that. I wouldn’t be surprised if even the rocks are the queen’s spies, though I’ve never seen anything to suggest it. This land is hers. She does whatever she wants with it, and the rest of us do what she says.”

“And if you don’t, she kills you.”

“Or worse.”

“What could be worse than death?”

“A lot of things.”

My chest tightened as I anticipated my next question. “Like your granddoody?”

Tears welled in those dark, pupil-less eyes of hers, giving them the impression of endless pools.

“I see.” I wanted to stab the queen through her icy cold heart until it stopped beating, then start it back up just so I could kill her all over again. “And why’s the land hers?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Her ancestors were the first rulers of the Mirror World. Their magic was tied to the land’s, and now hers is. It’s why…”

“It’s why, what?”

“It’s why … things are the way they are.”

“You mean dark and dismal outside of the palace grounds?”

She nodded and began searching our surroundings some more. If I saw a bird fly by with a giant ear attached to it I was going to freak.

“So what’s the deal with the Mirror World?” I asked.

Her hairless brows arched in wonder. “You really don’t know? I thought everyone had heard of the exile of the banished fae court.”

My heartbeat sped up. I slid across my seat to catch every next one of her words. “Tell me everything,” I breathed.

As luck would have it—bad luck in my case, as had been the way since Dougal flashed that blood-red ring at me in Nightguard—the birds chose that very moment to take to the skies by the hundreds. Their rustling wings and sudden caws were jarring enough to startle even the sword fighting men, who lowered their swords to stare upward.

The ground trembled as if in a mounting rage; the trees groaned and leaned toward the palace; and the clouds sped to obscure the sun entirely. Small, furry animals dashed past.

“What’s going on?” I asked, every muscle rigid in preparation for … whatever awful thing was coming. Ill ease reached to my very bones. My fingers clenched and unclenched with the need to hold a weapon, something to give me the impression I could protect myself from whatever this was.

As if taking care not to further upset the imbalance I could practically taste on my tongue, Pru rose to her feet slowly. A dozen goblins materialized around the ring, and the fae clan males sheathed their weapons, put on shirts, and stared up at the sky.

Waiting.

Anticipating.

The wind abruptly whipped and howled, shattering the peace of what had been a relatively still day. Goosebumps pebbled my skin beneath my bodice and skirts. I, too, rose, unsure in which direction to point. Uncertain where the danger came from. It seemed to permeate the very air, suddenly dense. To tremble beneath our feet. To coat our skin with a dread so heavy it might choke us.

The sky, already gray and stormy, darkened more. Thunder rolled long and drawn out though there was no lightning to accompany it. It rumbled … and rumbled … and rumbled as if it had no end.

I shivered.

Rush stalked over to me, took me by the hand, and lowered his lips to my ear.

“Prepare to run.”

Silently, I slid off my low heels and clutched them in my free hand.

19. A POISONED BLOODLINE AND A MIRROR WORLD

Thunder continued to roll in an endless, uninterrupted growl, vibrating the earth beneath our feet. I kept anticipating the crack of lightning, but it never came. Not even once. Not even to set my raw nerves at ease.

The birds, insects, and small animals within the palace grounds cried out the same alarm that hummed through my veins with an instinctual warning that urged me to run, run, run away—but in the opposite direction!

Rush led me toward the palace, his grip on my hand like a band of steel as we ran side by side. His sparring buddies loped alongside us, their weapons rattling softly as we sped along pathways, bounding over manicured flower beds. We raced up and down soft hillocks, and as we did, the mass of fae surrounding us swelled.

Creatures of all sorts and sizes, shapes I’d never seen before and lacked names for, seemed to emerge from the very foliage to join in our drive to reach the palace.

What had caused day to descend to night in a handful of tumultuous breaths? To inject unease into our very hearts and bodies? To urge us onward as if whips were driving us, lashing against our backs?

I’d believed we’d already been moving as fast as we could. Dragonfire, I ran barefoot, with my shoes and skirts clutched in one hand, the other pressed to Rush’s. But when horns blared, their call a deep, mournful baritone, Rush’s legs stretched impossibly long, and I forced my body to match his pace, as did the other contenders around us, my breathing heavy but steady. I hadn’t run up and down the Nightguard Mountains, competing against myself, for nothing.

Despite the many unknowns we were rushing toward, I hadn’t felt this free since Dougal had deposited me in “my chambers,” which had been nothing more than a pretty cage. My muscles were warm and limber, my blood pumping pleasantly, my skin tingling. If goblins weren’t popping up from everywhere to join the mass influx toward the palace, their somber faces pinched and more dour than usual, I might have allowed myself to relish the run—the way the air whipped along my face and neck, how Rush’s long silver strands waved behind us like a silky flag.

But no one around me was appreciating our sprint. Their nervousness was a tangible film in the air, infecting me despite my resistance.

It was perhaps less than ten minutes later when Rush slowed, the soles of his boots nearly silent against the large slabs of pale stone that delineated a portico. The others spread out in all different directions, even as a steady stream of more fae continued their approach behind them. The half-sized fae went to the left, some goblins with them, but most went right. A few foxes, serpents, and cats of varying sizes stalked and slithered down the hall that opened up in front of us—changelings, perhaps? Other odd and unidentifiable creatures jumped into the walls—and vanished.

Rush, his friends, and I followed the click-clacking of claws until the foxes and cats too disappeared, as if a fog had claimed them, erasing them from sight. But in here it was clear, the lighting usually reserved for nighttime glowing steadily. The snakes slid under invisible gaps at the base of the walls.

I shuddered, wondering exactly what and how much hid in plain sight. Hadn’t Pru just finished telling me there were spies everywhere? Until I watched them emerge seemingly from the earth itself, I’d had no idea just how many fae lived on the grounds.

As the horns crowed their final lament, Rush stepped to the side, away from the steady flow of traffic, taking me with him. His friends circled us, all eyeing me.

“What is it? Why are we stopping?” I asked in a hurry, my gaze skipping across the new arrivals, unable to focus on any one of them long enough to study their appearance to my satisfaction. The more I saw, the more questions I had.

“I stopped so you can compose yourself. But … how’d you do that?” Rush asked.

Still distracted, I looked at him for a moment. My chest fell and rose faster than usual. “Do what? What are you talking about? Aren’t we in a hurry? What’s going on anyway?”

“You ran as fast as we did,” said one of the other drakes. His hair was as pale as the newborn sun.

“Yeah, so?”

The pale-haired drake and Rush exchanged a look while some of the others did as well.

I huffed. “Let me guess, females in Embermere don’t run? Holy dragonfire, what the hell are women supposed to do around here all day? Primp their stupid hair?”

“Females can run,” Rush said. “But they don’t.”

“And they certainly don’t run as fast as we do,” another of them said on a disbelieving grunt.

Rush waved his free hand at my feet. “Put on your shoes. We’re in the palace now.”

“Mmhmm. I noticed,” I said. “There’s an emergency though.”

Rush arched a brow.

“Meaning,” I spelled out, “who cares how I look? We just ran here. My feet are grimy already anyway.” I tugged on his hand, hoping to get him moving again, but he was as unyielding as a boulder.

“Appearances are everything in this court, even during an emergency,” said another of the contenders, this one with hair as long as Rush’s, in a vibrant lavender. His jaw, brow, and cheeks were hard and masculine.

A couple of them nodded their agreement.

“Grimy or not, the sooner you put on your shoes and drop your skirts”—Rush trailed those moonlit eyes of his across my exposed calves—“the sooner we can find out what’s happening and where we’re needed.”

People and a few creatures hurried past us as I scowled, shoving my feet into heels I’d no longer be able to run in and arranged my skirts.

“Ready?” Rush asked.

“Of course,” I said, attempting to pull my hand from his grip.

He didn’t let go, instead walking quickly in the direction the foxes, cats, and snakes had gone, causing me to take several ridiculous little steps to his every easy stride.

“How am I supposed to keep up in these stupid heels?” I asked, fully aware that I was whining and that there was obviously something more pressing going on than my annoyance with footwear.

Rush came to an abrupt halt, faced me, dropping my hand, and scooped me up without warning.

I squealed, tucking my skirts around his arms so I wasn’t flashing everyone my fancy set of bloomers. “What are you doing?” I snarled, but he was already walking again, me held against his chest, his friends flanking us.

“Solving a problem.” Rush’s voice rolled through my torso and across the skin of my arms as if his lips were pressed directly to them. I squirmed and huffed.

He stared down at me, a single eyebrow arched upward in silent question. His eyebrows were as expressive as an entire damn lexicon.

I glowered at his annoyingly handsome face until a royal guard dressed in blue spotted us, hollering up a hall behind him, “I found her.”

The royal guard’s stare slid over me and Rush, then the others, before he addressed my wannabe rescuer—from the danger of high heels, ridiculous!

“Is she injured?”

“No,” Rush replied.

“I can answer for myself,” I said, but the guard was already talking again.

“Follow me.”

A handful of other guards, all wearing the queen’s blue, joined us as we marched down a wide hallway, like so many of the others, though I didn’t recognize any of the many paintings and sculptures adorning this path.

“What’s happened?” Lavender asked as their boots padded the length of the stone floors—since they were allowed to wear comfortable shoes instead of being carried around like a freaking baby.

“There’s been an attempt on the king’s life,” the initial guard answered.

“Is he still alive?” I asked, surprised by the concern in my voice. The king hadn’t been exactly fatherly toward me.

The guard peered behind him, meeting my stare for a moment before replying. “He is. He’s greatly weakened, but he still breathes, thank the land.”

“How did it happen?” asked the pale-haired drake.

“We’re not sure of all the details yet, but it seems the king was poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” I breathed. “How’s that possible?”

The royal guard’s jaw hardened. “It shouldn’t be.”

“Her Majesty’s extremely upset,” another of her royal guard added.

“We could tell,” Lavender commented dryly. “The last time the sky turned dark like this was when…” Seeming to only just then realize what he’d been about to say, the fae drake trailed off.

Everyone there but me understood regardless. I surmised he was referring to the assassination of Prince Heir Saturn, which had to mean that…

“The queen’s the one who made the sky dark?”

“Yes,” Rush answered. “She’s connected to the land. It’s her bloodline, not His Majesty’s, that accesses the magic of the Mirror World.”

The Mirror World. There it was again. At the earliest opportunity, I was locking Pru in my room and grilling her until she told me everything.

“Has the culprit been found yet?” Rush asked of the guardsman.

“Not yet,” the man answered over his shoulder. Even without seeing his face, I picked up on his bitterness. “Presumably, it’s the same fae who murdered our prince heir and the many ladies and lords of the court since then.”

I felt my eyes widen. The “many?” What kind of place was this? For as long as I’d been in Nightguard, very few had died, and all in the line of battle, defending the dragons they’d vowed to protect. Theirs had been honorable deaths. No one had been murdered by a piece of ice sculpture.

After sweeping around a few final corners, I realized we were heading to the king’s private chambers instead of the queen’s. No wonder I hadn’t recognized a thing. It wasn’t as if my father had invited me to hang out with him—a little get-to-know-each-other session after a lifetime apart obviously would have been too quaint for his mighty highness.

More guardsmen, these outfitted in forest-green, emerged from one set of doors only to run across the hall to another, their sheathed blades bouncing against the leather of their thigh-long vests. They disappeared behind this other set of doors. Other men in green ran in the opposite direction as us, not even pausing as they jogged past. Another horde of guards stood watch to either side of the largest set of double doors, twitching as they attempted to remain still at their posts.

It was just as chaotic as it had been outside, but here the guards were silent. I sensed every word they wished to speak but didn’t like a band across my chest.

“Put me down,” I whispered to Rush as he drew to a stop just beyond the doors.

He hesitated, then pulled me against his chest for a full three beats of my heart—I counted—before lowering me gently to the floor, dragging me against the length of his body. I stood where he’d set me, with my back against his chest, the curve of my rear against his hips, my fingers within grasp of his.

I commanded myself to step away, to carve out some distance between us—from my enemy—but my treacherous feet didn’t budge.

The doors swung open, and an attendant with short, dark braids standing all over his head glared at me. The plaits were capped in tiny silver bells that I imagined must be a constant annoyance. Now they didn’t make a peep.

“Took you long enough,” Bells announced for all to hear, his lips a disapproving line in his dusky face. He snapped neat fingers at me. “Well, don’t just stand there. You’re not to keep His Majesty the King Consort Oren Amadeo waiting any longer than you already have.”

“I didn’t realize I’d been summoned,” I answered, dry as brittle kindling. I didn’t advance.

Bells rolled his eyes skyward as he breathed out a longsuffering sigh. “Are you waiting for an invitation signed in blood? ’Cause you’re not going to get one. Hustle your tail in here already!”

It only made me want to dig my heels in all the more.

Rush nudged me forward, his hand against the small of my back, his breath warm against my ear. “You don’t want to anger Dashiell. Trust me.”

The whole problem was that I couldn’t trust him, or anyone else at the palace for that matter—maybe Pru, but also maybe not. After all, she was a goblin with no particular loyalty to me.

Reluctantly, I walked across the threshold.

“Praise the land’s holy magic,” Dashiell grumbled. “She walks.”

My head whipped around toward him, and I pointed my favorite mess with me and I’ll stab you look at him. It only made him chuff a dark chortle. “Feral, this one.”

“That’s right, I’m feral. Hand me that pretty blade of yours and I’ll show you just how much.”

The door closed silently behind Rush, his friends, and me. Inside the spacious room, curtains were drawn, the only lighting a handful of dim, bobbing orbs. A dozen guards in green stood here and there, and a few fae huddled together alongside a massive four-poster bed.

Every man in the room stopped what he was doing to stare at me. I tsked and continued toward the huge bed. Behind its gauzy drapery must lie the king.

Several guards stepped between me and their monarch while casting questioning glimpses at Dashiell.

Rush’s hand clasped mine, trying to pull me back toward him. Come, go, hold on—could they make up their minds already? I resisted Rush’s guidance.

“Let her through,” Dashiell said with an irritated wave of his hand. Silver rings glimmered from each of his fingers, even his thumbs. I glimpsed a dragon on one of them. Apparently only on jewelry and royal crests were the dragons magnificent creatures worthy of appreciation. Otherwise, they were to be killed on sight. What inconsistent sickos.

“And what of the others?” a guard in green asked.

“Allow Drake Rush Vega of Amarantos through with her since he seems to be attached to her at the hip.” Dashiell trailed a quick look of irritation up and down us both. “The Drake Hiroshi Asher of Bendisantos, Drake Ryder Link of Magiarantos, and Drake West Renato of Encarantos, will wait here with me. The remaining contenders must leave.”

A few of Rush’s friends slipped back out the doors, making me wish I could leave with them.

A commotion drew my attention back to the king’s side, where the fae there leaned over the bed. One straightened and commanded, “Hurry, girl.”

Joy, my two favorite words combined.

“The king wants to speak with his … relation.”

It was the calculating, uncaring voice that told me the man speaking was Dougal, long before I drew close enough to make out his russet hair and the heavy dragon-crested ring he’d waved in my face back in Nightguard.

“Don’t just stand there,” he snarled, clutching my arm so that his nails dug into my flesh, and yanked me forward. Surprised, I pitched toward him.

Faster than I could tug my arm free and tell—or better yet, show—Dougal precisely what I thought of being manhandled, Rush grabbed his hand, gripping it so hard that I could hear Dougal’s bones creaking.

“Release her.” Rush’s order was a low growl that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up while simultaneously sending a pulse of heat to thump between my thighs. I clenched against the sensation— now was so not the time. I had a ring-wearing asshole begging for a lesson.

When Dougal didn’t hurry to obey Rush or my baring of teeth, Rush pried each of his fingers off me, and it had to have hurt. I delighted at every one of Dougal’s subtle winces.

Dougal dropped his hand quickly, flexing the fingers at his side while pretending to be bored. “Always overly prone to theatrics, aren’t you, Rush? The drake who saves all the damsels in distress…”

All the damsels? What other damsels were there other than me? Not that I was a damsel in distress. I suddenly wanted to seek them all out and set their hair on fire. I frowned against the unwelcome urge. What was there to be jealous of? And since when was I envious because of a man? Let alone, this man, my enemy?

“And you,” Dougal said, his derision pointed directly at me, “you were a barely civilized beast up in the mountains with the dragons. I see no amount of fine clothing can change that.” He curled his lip.

Before I decided what I was doing, I found the dagger that had hung from his belt in my hand, and its shiny metal tip pressed against his throat. I stared deep into the depths of his eyes, searching for light, but found none.

Dougal’s throat bobbed against the knife, his eyes no longer dripping with feigned ennui. Several things happened at once. The king’s guards attempted to circle me and Dougal. Rush, flanked by Ryder, West, and Hiroshi, moved directly behind me, hands clutching the hilts of their swords at their belts. Dashiell muttered something about “idiots, disturbing the king.” But it was Finnian who snagged my attention.

One of my kidnappers, he’d been there with Dougal and Sandor at the start. But he’d also been the one to heal me after they shot me with arrows. He was the one whose caramel eyes warmed with compassion. Of all of them that stood with the king, he was the only one I thought might actually care whether I lived or died.

Next to a small table beside the bed, he watched the scene with Sandor.

“Dougal,” he said now, in a gentle voice that suggested he was asking the man to pass him a slice of bread. “Perhaps if you were to apologize to Lady Elowyn, she would kindly put down the knife.”

Even with a blade to his throat, Dougal scoffed. “Why should I apologize?”

“Because you’re a cold-hearted prick, and I see no reason not to kill you right where you stand,” I snarled. “I’d be doing everyone else a favor.” I smiled, allowing the extent of my dislike for the man, who’d not only kidnapped me but also slapped me, to spring forth.

Dougal clenched. “You’re making your king wait.” His words were a wheezy rasp as I pressed the blade into his skin enough to draw a bead of blood.

He gasped as if he couldn’t believe it. I grinned bigger.

“Lady Elowyn,” Finnian said, “the king has been asking for you. Please table your disagreement with Dougal until a later time. His Majesty needs you right now.”

Dougal’s eyes flashed while I deliberated. Finally, I huffed and lowered the blade from his throat to point it at his face. “But grab me or slap me again and I will make you pay.”

Dougal scoffed again, but this time I suspected it was all show. Roughly, I unsnapped the dagger’s sheath from his belt, slid the knife inside, and tucked it roughly down my bodice, where the tip of it touched my belly button.

Tension rolled thickly around the room that now felt stuffy with its closed curtains, but no one objected. No one told me yet again how females weren’t supposed to have weapons to defend themselves from cretins like Dougal.

When I moved in front of them, the guards hesitated before disbanding. With Rush, West, Ryder, and Hiroshi a step behind me, I approached the king. I nodded at Finnian, exchanged a look with Sandor that told me nothing about his reaction to what had just happened. His gray eyes were blank.

Muttering under his breath, Dashiell cut through us all. But when his fingers alighted on the king’s shoulder, they were gentle as a bird’s feather.

“Your Majesty,” he cooed, “Lady Elowyn has arrived.”

When the king didn’t answer, Dashiell ran his hand in a caress along the king’s arm. The monarch wore a thin dressing gown beneath heavy covers, drawn up to his chest.

“My king? The Lady Elowyn is finally here.”

Groggily, slowly, the king’s eyelids fluttered open.

Dashiell smiled down at him. I hadn’t thought the saucy fae had it in him. “How are you feeling, my liege?” he asked.

“Like someone just tried to kill me.” The king’s answer was a faint rasp, metal scraping across sand in a weak arc.

Sandor and Finnian stepped back, allowing me to move next to Dashiell. The king’s broad shoulders sagged; his face was a pasty white, covered in a sheen of sweat. His eyes, a deep brown, were murky, as if one foot were in this world, the other in whatever came after.

He coughed, the effort racking his chest with spasms, which only made him cough more.

“Water, fetch the king water,” Dashiell barked. Then, with a glance at Finnian and Sandor, “Is there anything else you can do for him?”

“Not now,” Sandor said. “He needs rest to recover his strength. Soothing darkness and quiet will do him good. Finnian and I will, of course, remain at his side. Just in case.”

Even in those few words it was apparent Sandor wasn’t convinced the king would come out of this.

Finnian added, “It would perhaps be better if His Majesty were to wait to speak with the Lady Elowyn until he’s had the chance to recover. He needs all his energy now for healing.” He turned and began packing up a host of tiny glass vials, placing them in a leather pouch lined with perfectly sized pockets.

A goblin appeared from nowhere to deliver a single glass of water atop a silver tray. Dashiell took it, held the king’s head up as if the monarch were a child, then fed him a few sips. When Dashiell replaced the glass on the tray the goblin held above his head, the king’s attendant was shaking his head. He faced me, speaking softly. “Lady Elowyn, you’ll return later. Don’t leave your rooms. I must know where you are at all times for when the king’s ready for you.” Then to Rush, “You’ll be with her?”

“Of course,” Rush said as if it were a given, and I supposed it was. His master puppeteer the queen had commanded him, after all.

“Then—”

But Dashiell was cut off. The king cleared his throat, coughed a little, then eked out a, “I must speak with her now … in case I don’t make it. She has to … know.”

My heart skipped a beat then resumed its beating, too fast. “What?” I whispered. “What do I have to know?”

The king’s clouded, glassy eyes met mine. “Who your mother is.”

Dashiell jerked as if he’d been struck. “Everyone, everyone out!” He grabbed my arm. “You, you alone will stay.”

20. THE QUEEN TRUMPS THE KING

Snapping his fingers as he hissed commands in stern whispers so as not to further disturb the ailing king, Dashiell cleared the chambers in record time. He ordered even the goblins to leave.

Rush was fighting to remain behind. He stood toe to toe with Dashiell, and though the attendant was shorter and slighter than the warrior, Dashiell’s eyes were narrowed with the sort of fierce determination that suggested this battle of wills could go either way.

“I’m not leaving,” Rush said as if it were already fact.

“You will and you are. It’s the king’s will.”

“The king didn’t tell me to leave.”

Dashiell’s frown cut deep lines into the otherwise youthful appearance of his mouth. “Don’t be a dolt, Rush. You know as well as anyone else, when the king’s incapacitated, I speak for him.”

Rush’s brows arched ever so slightly. “I thought the queen did that.”

Dashiell tsked. “You know what I mean. I’m intimately familiar with the king’s preferences. Hence, I’m well suited to ensure that his will’s followed even when he isn’t able to do so.” Dashiell smacked his lips. “You’re to leave right this instant. The king’s waited long enough to speak with the Lady Elowyn.”

“Understood.” But when Rush stepped back, it was only to position himself at my side. Legs spread hip width, he sank into his posture, as unmovable as a mountain.

Dashiell’s eyes narrowed; they were mismatched, one a startling blue in contrast to the rich darkness of his skin, the other a deep brown. “It looks to me like you’re understanding about as well as a serpent told to fly.”

“No, I understand your position perfectly. What you don’t understand, however, is that our monarchs have ordered me to protect the Lady Elowyn with my life. I’m not to leave her side, by command of the queen herself.”

Dashiell chewed the inside of his lip. No matter his level of devotion to the king, he had to realize the queen trumped the king.

“Fine,” he eventually relented. “But then you’ll need to swear an oath to protect his secrets.”

Anticipation surged through me in tangible tingles. At long last, would I truly discover the identity of my mother? After all these years, after so much mystery? I’d pestered Zako with questions about her until he’d been blunt in his admission that he’d never, under any circumstances, tell me what I wanted to know.

Each of my breaths was a sharp burst of hope I barely dared to have.

“I should get Braque,” Dashiell said, but the suggestion was bitter, as if he liked the man about as much as I did.

Unintelligible murmurs rose from the bed. Dashiell’s neat eyebrows rose before he dashed to the king’s side.

The man, who was clearly a trusted aide to the ruler, leaned his ear next to the king’s mouth, nodding repeatedly while I strained to make out what my father said. I picked up on nothing helpful, and disappointment churned prematurely in my gut.

All of this was so the king could reveal who my mother was. I just had to be patient. What was another few minutes after almost twenty-three years of waiting?

Dashiell patted the king fondly on the arm, then returned to us, where Rush and I waited in the middle of the large bedchamber.

“His Majesty will perform the oath himself,” Dashiell said, lips pursed. “He’ll use his strength on you instead of healing all because you want to stay,” he accused Rush.

But Rush appeared unruffled. “Like you, I’m simply following the wishes of my monarchs.”

This seemed to mollify Dashiell somewhat. He sighed while openly studying Rush and me. “He said you two have a special connection.”

We do? I swiveled toward Rush, whose features were steady. Was he not as surprised as I was by that?

Before I could ask, Dashiell said, “Come. The king really does need his rest. We’ll need to be quick.”

So long as I found out who my mother was, I’d be as fast as the bossy man wanted.

When the three of us drew near the king, Dashiell spun toward me, hand outstretched. “I’ll need your dagger.” When I played dumb, he added, “The one you took from Dougal before stuffing it down your cleavage.” Once more, his lips soured in disapproval.

Bite me. I finally had a weapon. No way was I giving it up now.

“You cannot draw any closer to His Majesty until you surrender it.”

The knife weighed ten times its size as I deliberated. My mother was perhaps the only reason I’d consider giving up my unexpected advantage so soon after gaining it.

I crooked a thumb at Rush. “He’s got a sword and a bunch of knives. How come you’re not asking him to hand his over?”

“Because he is a drake of the fae and he is sworn to protect His Majesty. You’re none of those things.” Dashiell performed a gimme motion with his hand.

The king croaked, “Leave it. She won’t hurt me.”

Dashiell appeared less convinced, trailing his open distrust up and down the length of me. Rush stepped closer, the front of his body pressed against the length of my side as if to dispel the man’s scrutiny.

“Are you entirely certain, my liege?” Dashiell asked over his shoulder. “She wielded a weapon like a man would. That’s not normal.”

“I’ll give you ‘not normal,’” I growled at Dashiell. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll show you⁠—”

“See what I mean, my king? She’s⁠—”

“She’s my daughter,” the king interjected, and though his words were feeble, their impact was important enough to knock the air from Dashiell. Even Rush gasped behind me.

“Let her be,” the king added, unnecessarily, I thought. A gentle, balmy breeze might knock over Dashiell at present.

The king patted the spot beside him on the bed. “Elowyn, sit.” But when I did as he asked, he looked at Rush, not me. “Rush, now you and Dashiell have a very big secret of mine to keep. Can I count on you not to breathe a word of it to anyone?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Rush answered right away.

“No one can know who she really is.” The king coughed, a wheezy rasp that suggested these very well might be the first and last words of meaning I ever exchanged with the man who’d sired me.

“If they attempted to take my life,” the king continued, “then they might … very well try to take hers.” He drew several labored breaths. “That can’t happen. She must … remain safe at all … costs.”

“You have my word of honor. I won’t reveal her true identity and I’ll continue to protect her with everything I have. With my life.”

With glassy eyes, the king met Rush’s waiting stare. “Yes, I see that you mean that.” He tried to sit up, but managed only to collapse back onto the pillows propped beneath him.

Dashiell tsked in stern disapproval and elbowed his way around me to better position the king. “We must make this quick.”

With great effort, the king nodded. Strands of his dark hair adhered to the clamminess of his forehead, and with delicate fingers Dashiell brushed them away.

“Does the queen know you’re Elowyn’s father?” Rush asked.

Dashiell stood to reach for a damp washcloth, ringing out excess water into a bowl before dabbing at the king’s face and neck with it.

“She does,” the king said on a broken breath. “But what she doesn’t know … what no one outside of this … room … can know … is who your mother is.” His gaze landed on me then. “No one can know.”

“Okay,” I said numbly.

Dashiell moved to stand behind me, where he was only a single leap from aiding his lord. The king reached for my hand, patting it limply.

“I realize I haven’t been much … of a father to you.”

Much of one? He was being generous with his failings.

His fingers rolled off of mine to rest on the bed, already curled upward as if in death. “I hope we’ll have more of a … chance. But the land will decide if it’s my time.”

“You’ll make it, my king,” Dashiell interjected, his assurance a fast tumble of desperation.

The king kept his attention on me. “You must know who your mother is. She’s⁠—”

A sudden cough jolted him, making his entire chest tremble with effort. He hacked violently, more so than he had the strength for, and I slid farther down the bed to get out of his way.

After more water that a goblin, who wasn’t supposed to be there, delivered, and some more nursing by Dashiell, the king stared at me again. His eyelids were now at half-mast. Every breath seemed to be too much effort. He rolled his fingers in my direction, and they scarcely moved—worms enduring their final death throes.

His voice was a feather so fine it seemed held by the hand of a ghost. “Your mother is⁠—”

The double doors crashed open, setting my heart to skittering in my chest. Rush spun to face this new threat while I sucked in a deep breath to dispel my shock.

My mother’s name had already been tumbling from the king’s lips! Now, he sucked it back in, his eyes roving toward the doors.

“What is this?” the queen demanded.

With fury bubbling up my throat, I swiveled on the bed to face her. I didn’t bother to disguise my disappointment at her arrival. She could transform day into horrifying night? She could imbue terror into every living thing in Embermere? Well, I’d bet I could land my dagger in her heart before she or the guards that surrounded her could anticipate my actions.

The queen, in a floor-skimming dress the color of deep fog, encrusted along its hem with gems of a matching hue, swept toward the bed. Most of her guards remained by the doors. Two shadowed her every move, their hands skimming the hilts of their swords as they eyed Rush and Dashiell.

“What are you doing here?” the queen asked Rush, but before he could answer she glared at me. “And you. The king should be resting, not doing … whatever he was doing. Dashiell,” she barked. “What’s going on?”

I had to give the man credit. Though I imagined he had to be rattled by her unexpected intrusion, Dashiell smiled beatifically at the queen. That was when I knew he was full of shit. His hands clasped in front of him, he walked around the bed until he was positioned between her and her husband. I didn’t think the queen noticed the defensive positioning, but Rush sure did. His astute gaze was following every move both of them made.

“Your Majesty,” Dashiell began as he bowed his greeting, “the king’s still unwell. His body struggles to overcome the dastardly poison inside him. The Lady Elowyn and Drake Rush Vega came by to see how he fares. I’ve already suggested they take their leave.”

“How very thoughtful of them,” the queen muttered venomously.

“You’ll go now,” the queen told Rush and me. “The king needs to recover. No one, and I do mean no one, threatens those closest to me and lives to tell the tale,” she seethed.

Her son murdered, her husband nearly … the woman seemed on the verge of cracking, and when she did, I didn’t want to be anywhere near her. Sparks all but crackled off her skin.

I stood, but when I glanced back at the king’s frail form, I saw that he’d grabbed Rush’s wrist.

“Don’t leave her side,” he said, a haunting, disembodied voice on the wind.

“I won’t, Your Majesty,” Rush said. “You have my word.”

The queen rolled her eyes in a blatant display. “Really, now isn’t the time for all this nonsense.”

Her skirts billowing behind her, she rounded the other side of the bed, lowering herself to sit next to her husband. Her crown today was dainty, dripping sparkling, gray gems in delicate cascades that framed her face and tinkled as she moved.

“Oren, I already told you Rush can guard your precious distant relation,” the queen said.

Dashiell and Rush exchanged looks so quickly that it barely happened at all.

“She’ll be safe,” the queen continued telling the king, who’d closed his eyes when she entered. “The farther removed from the throne someone is, the safer they are.” Her words were bitter, but also, I guessed, a threat. A reminder of the hold she had on me. Of what she’d do to others if I were to disobey her and reveal my true connection to the king. I’d heard nothing of the arrival of Xeno or Saffron from Nightguard. But then again, I wouldn’t necessarily know if they were here.

The queen leaned forward to examine the king. Her eyes pinched, making me wonder for the first time if she might actually care for the man she intimidated so openly. Perhaps he was more than a pawn in a precisely executed game of chess.

She looked up at Dashiell, who’d crowded the king from the other side. “Where are Finnian and Sandor?”

“They’re just outside, Your Majesty.”

“And why aren’t they here at the king’s side as I ordered them to be?”

“The king wanted just a moment, my queen. They left only in response to his request.”

She tipped her head in consideration, which set the strands of gemstones oscillating.

“Their skills are needed to heal the king,” Dashiell added, and my eyes widened. Dashiell was subtly defending the men, reminding her of their importance. Did he really fear she’d order them punished just for stepping outside, at the king’s order, no less?

Maybe she was even worse than I’d thought.

She harrumphed in response, and one of Dashiell’s eyes, the blue one, twitched.

“You,” she waved in the general direction of one of her guards. “Get Ivar and Braque. Tell them to hurry. And send Finnian and Sandor back in.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard in blue said with a bow before rushing toward the doors.

The queen glared at me. “What are you still doing here?”

“I, um, was just leaving,” I said, annoyed to hear my voice weak in response to her strength. I pushed my chin up by a fraction.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, never leaving mine as she said, “Rush, go with her. Now that you gave ‘your word,’ it seems you’ll be shadowing Elowyn for as long as she lives.”

When Rush’s hand landed on my arm, tension radiated through his fingertips into me. Had he picked up on the queen’s unspoken suggestion that I might not have that long to live? I certainly had.

“Your Majesty,” I said as I bowed to her, my words dripping with a danger so sweet no one should notice.

“Elowyn,” the king mumbled, drawing the queen’s focus.

“Don’t worry about her, Oren. She’s out of your way now. How are you feeling?”

I didn’t make out the king’s answer as Rush led me toward the door. Finnian and Sandor, both looking stricken, slipped inside as we left. As Finnian passed me, his caramel eyes seemed to speak a warning.

Only I didn’t know what it said beyond the obvious: the queen wanted me dead, or if it pointed the way to my salvation.

Either way, I saw no way out.

21. THE FANCIFUL HALL OF MIRRORS

The king’s poisoning was the talk of the court. His would-be killer hadn’t been caught, and the courtiers should have exhausted themselves with all their fervently whispered accusations and hypothesizing, but their energy for gossip seemed to be boundless, especially when they could conveniently point their suspicions at whatever player they wanted eliminated from the board.

Another few days had passed, and though it was incongruous to continue on as if nothing had happened after an assassination attempt on the monarch, and the murder of a lady of the court immediately before it, that’s precisely what everyone did. The only reminder was the overwhelming presence of guards. Nearly every hallway, alcove, and doorway had at least one guard stationed in it, and if not then a guard somewhere had eyes on it. I imagined the show of force made the others feel safer. To me, their constancy only made the walls of my prison squeeze in closer, until it took every speck of my resolve not to run.

Through the goblin grapevine, Pru heard that a young dragon and dragon shifter had arrived in Embermere, captives of the queen. At least I finally had my answer: Xeno was alive! The queen wouldn’t very well have a dead man kidnapped—or would she? I’d have to find them and get them out first so we could all escape together.

Though I was doing my best to pry information out of anyone who’d speak with me, I still knew too little. Every fae was apprehensive of the queen, and their fear of her stayed their tongues from sharing anything meaningful.

The tournament was scheduled to begin tomorrow. The Hall of Mirrors was decked out in fanciful trimmings for a lavish celebration that put all the already over-the-top elaborate ones before it to shame. Tiny lights hung in long icicle-like chains from the high ceiling, casting the grand room in a magical glow. Butterflies, their wings a vast array of bright colors, fluttered and drifted here and there, seemingly in a random pattern, giving the impression that the entire mirrored ceiling was moving. Fairies the size of small birds perched on the edges of crystal dishes, arranging fruit, cheeses, nuts, and other delicacies whenever someone served themselves and left a gap on the plate. Others sat beside ornate crystal decanters, looking bored in their tiny ballgowns and frilly suits until someone served themselves the beverage. Then the fairies tapped the vessels, and with a flash of bright magic they’d refill.

Snakes of all sorts and sizes undulated beneath the dance floor. Last I’d been here, the floor had been made of wood, but now it was a clear glass. Their slithering created a writhing, mesmerizing mass of scales and colors that was amplified a millionfold whenever the butterflies and revelers opened to leave a gap to reflect in the mirrored ceiling. The whole place seemed to pulse with movement, a sensation only amplified by the constant dancers. A full chorus of half-sized fae accompanied the orchestra this time, their tunes unfamiliar yet jovial as if none of those gathered remembered that the first stage of the competition, the Gladius Probatio, was expected to deliver more deaths.

The atmosphere was rich and heady, infectious even. While I circumnavigated the space looped through Rush’s arm, observing everything, the partygoers grew drunker and louder, more boisterous and uninhibited. We’d been here for barely an hour and already bustiers were slipping lower, exposing more bosom. Flirtations were occurring everywhere. The tantalizing expectation of sex permeated the air like a musky scent.

Gliding through the hall, the queen presided over all of it, always the center of attention wherever she went. Her subjects flocked to her like honey bees to their own queen, creating more movement, more pulsing ebb and flow.

The walls, windows, and mirrors throbbed with the energy contained within, ever building. The queen drank it all in with a smile that perfectly blended approachability and untouchable godliness. Though she appeared carefree, I understood that every one of her actions was deliberate. A manipulation. She was a master at controlling her people.

She didn’t appear to need—or even want—the king.

Before my arrival in Embermere, I couldn’t have fathomed such a vacuous existence, in which every day’s goal seemed to be about nothing beyond political advancement. As much as I’d at times dreaded the doldrum routine of my life in Nightguard, at least I’d been achieving things. The dragonlings needed to be cared for, the shifters fed, and my training continued in such a way that I could see constant improvement, even if at times it took weeks or months to reveal itself. But this? A life of fake smiles and cutthroat social interactions? The queen could keep it all, and while she was at it, she could shove it right up her cruel ass.

Of course, beyond the stupid show I was forced to put on, going so far as to masquerade as two separate people, the queen wasn’t offering me a life at her court. She wasn’t offering me a life at all. Though I appeared to be joining the schedule of constant festivities, the queen had sentenced me to death. If she had her way, this would be my final night, and if not tonight, then the day after, or the one after that, depending on how long Zinnia managed to survive and pass on to the next bracket of the competition.

“What are you thinking about?” Rush asked. “You’ve got that look again, like you’re somewhere else.”

Though I’d gotten better at walking in sky-high heels, I always accepted his arm as we ambled slowly around the large room, stopping here and there to speak with someone or other, never anyone I wanted to talk with. As promised, Rush hadn’t left my side other than to allow me to take care of my personal needs, and even then he waited just beyond the closed door. When we slept, he insisted on leaving the door open between our rooms, and he’d dragged his bed over to the threshold so that he could tumble from his bed straight to my defense.

Days ago, when the queen spoke with him in private, after doing the same with me, she had to have ordered him to kill me. It was the obvious move. He was her precious favorite who followed her every order without question. He was the expected champion of the Gladius Probatio. He and his appointed bride would emerge as the final victors of the Fae Heir Trials. And yet, the fae drake, who was presumed by all to be the next male heir to the throne, protected me as if I were meant to be his queen.

It was ridiculous—and counterproductive.

My gaze accidentally skimmed across Dayana and her daughter Natania, and I hastened to look somewhere else, anywhere else, though their matching hair, in different tones of sky-blue tonight, were hard to miss.

“I’m thinking how I really can’t take another night of talking with those two,” I finally replied to Rush, guiding him by the arm in the opposite direction.

With a placid smile on his face—a mask he always wore in this setting, I’d come to discover—he resisted my pull. “If you run, they’ll only hunt you down all the harder. Trust me on that. I know. They’ll eventually find you wherever you go.”

The previous nights doing our rounds of the social chess board made it easy to believe him. Every mother with an eligible daughter spotted him the very moment he stepped foot in the hall, before even the announcer called out his name.

He leaned his lips toward my ear, vapid smile still in place. “The best way to handle them is head-on, and then try to cut it short.”

“But they’re beasts with the way they latch on to you and won’t let go. We’ll be stuck talking with them forever, just like last night.”

He sighed softly so that only I detected his dread. “At least it’ll be over soon enough. Once the trials are finished, there’ll be no point to any of them trying to get me to like their daughters. My fate will already be decided.”

“Again, that doesn’t sound like a better option.”

Eyes locked on Rush, Dayana and Natania were already sashaying their way toward us. Natania tugged her bodice down an inch so that her breasts swelled, threatening to spill out. Next she patted a small, blue crystal affixed to the corner of one eye to make sure it was still in place.

Looking straight at her, under his breath, Rush said, “At least I won’t have to do any more of this.”

“Yeah. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Most unladylike, I snorted. “You’ll just be having to make babies with someone you might not even like. Can you fathom having to have sex with that … every night? By dragonfire, even every month would be bad enough. Natania will eat you alive after you put your baby heir in her.”

Rush’s mask froze in place. For an instant, his moonlight eyes became feral, as if he were as desperate to escape his prison as I was mine.

But then the vultures arrived, positioning themselves in such a way that they were in full view of the queen, who sat on her throne now, a majestic sight in a golden gown that shone so brightly beneath the lights that I wondered if it might be made of real gold. It would be a logical choice given her penchant for opulence while her people beyond the walls of the palace grounds suffered so openly. The throne beside her was empty.

“There you are, Drake Rush Vega,” Dayana crooned while patting the dozens of tiny braids wrapping around her head in intricate, geometric patterns. Her goblins, whoever they were, probably had bulging muscles in their fingers from all the work she gave them.

“Good evening, Dowager Countess,” Rush said, dipping his head in her direction. “And Countess Natania.”

The countess trilled a vapid giggle that made me want to grab the nearest goblet—thick crystal and probably weighed a nice chunk—and smash her over the head with it. She batted chunky eyelashes, coated in indigo goop, at him. I cast glimpses around us, searching for the nearest goblet. A tall, gaunt male with golden hair down to his waist held one aloft, and he was within a lunge’s reach.

Natania giggled some more, unconcerned that there wasn’t a funny thing happening. I faced her, baring teeth while pretending to smile.

She hesitated, her laugh dying in her throat.

I couldn’t be certain, but it sounded like a faint chuckle rolled through Rush’s chest.

“Lady Elowyn,” Dayana said, her greeting stilted. “So very nice to see you again.” From the falsetto of her voice, it was clear she was about as happy to meet up with me as I was with her.

“Yes, here we are again,” I said with mock politeness. I shifted my weight into one hip, the one closest to Rush, which delivered me closer to him.

Mother and daughter noticed, their eyes narrowing only slightly, but thanks to the exaggerated strokes of their makeup, the shift was obvious. Had I anticipated how much the simple move would irritate them, I would have done it on purpose, but I’d done so to feel the dagger strapped to my thigh—not that I would stab either of them, at least not without provocation.

Natania cleared her throat, casting her mother a look; Dayana nodded her encouragement.

“How are you feeling about the opening event tomorrow?” Natania asked Rush. “I just know you’re going to do so well.” Her words were unreasonably breathy. Then again, maybe it was because she was pushing her arms against her torso so her boobs would hike even farther up.

Rush smiled, and before I could think about it, I found my elbow nudging him in the side. Brows raised in question, he cast a curious look at me, which the women followed, causing them to frown.

I shrugged and waited for Rush to answer Natania.

He chuffed and turned back toward her. “I feel good about the tournament, especially the fighting part. I’ve trained all my life to be prepared, and I know I’m up to the challenge. But ultimately, the result will be whatever’s destined.”

“You mean, whatever the queen wills,” I interjected.

“Yes,” he said. “They’re one and the same.”

Dayana cast a nervous glance toward the queen’s throne that I refused to follow. I wouldn’t give the queen the satisfaction of knowing how much she got to me. Based on the jittery cast to Dayana’s eyes afterward, the queen was watching us, all right.

“Well, I’ll be there in the stands cheering you on,” Natania said.

“Don’t be modest,” Dayana amended. “We won’t be in the stands. We’ll be seated in the sitting area reserved for favored fae. And you, my darling, will be Rush’s wife and the new crown princess.”

Rush’s bicep tensed invisibly beneath the thickness of his tunic, but I felt it against my arm.

“We’ll just have to wait to see how the magic of the land arranges things.” Rush’s smile was so brittle it might break. Neither woman seemed to notice.

“Oh, we don’t need to wait for luck,” Dayana said. “Natania’s everything a princess should be. Everyone knows that.”

After eyeing the gaunt man and his loosely held goblet again, I asked, “Has there been any news on who killed Lady Aleeza?”

Dayana blinked at me as if she were actually thinking, Lady Aleeza who? The surprise cleared her features as she dragged her fingers across the magenta folds of her skirt. “There’s been no new discovery. No one knows who killed her or the others.”

“I keep hearing about others. Were there many of them?”

“I keep forgetting you’re new to court.”

I doubted she forgot the fact for a single second in all her orchestrations. “Yes,” I said tightly. “How many have died while at court?”

“You mean recently?” Natania asked. “Or since when?”

Foreboding swept the length of my body. “Have there been that many?”

Dayana waved her hand in the air. “There haven’t been that many. And none of any great importance, other than the”—she flicked a look up at the throne before lowering her voice to a whisper—“than the prince heir, of course. His death was a horrific tragedy.”

Only she next swiped another eager look across Rush, all but saying aloud, His tragedy, our gain. Wisely, she kept her trap shut. I had no idea why the queen might like the annoying woman, but I had no doubt the queen would have her killed on the spot should she express some advantage gained from Saturn’s death.

“What will you wear tomorrow for the first fight?” Natania asked Rush.

Rush studied her, blinked. “My fighting garb in Amarantos’ colors, of course. Now if you lovely ladies will please excuse us, I must speak with the Drakes Hiroshi Asher, Ryder Link, and West Renato about tomorrow’s event.”

Natania’s hand shot out to touch his other arm. “Will you return to speak with me?” Again, she batted her goopy lashes. Again, I hoped they’d get stuck together.

“Please accept my apologies, but no. I must guard the Lady Elowyn, and I need my rest for tomorrow.”

“Then you should leave her here with us while you go talk with the drakes,” Dayana suggested. “We’ll take care of her, and you can have a break from her … company. It must wear on you so to have to help her around the court when she knows so little of our ways.”

“It’s been a privilege,” Rush said, shutting the hag up nicely. “I protect her upon the direct request of our monarchs.” Then, before either of them could add another stupid word, he dipped his head to them. “Countess, Dowager Countess, we take our leave.”

Dayana shot her hand out toward him. After another stiffening of his arm, he received it, kissing the woman’s knuckles delicately. He then did the same for Natania.

By the time we turned away from them, my jaw was tight, and I was resisting the urge to punch both of them in their ugly, blue-painted mouths.

“I have no idea how you do that every fucking night,” I grumbled to him as he pointed us toward Ryder, West, and Hiroshi, who stood at the opposite end of the hall, surrounded by females I was certain I didn’t want to speak with either.

Rush’s chuckle was warm. “You have quite the mouth on you.”

“You have no idea.” My maidenhood might still be intact, but every time I saw Rush, my mind went on its merry way—without my permission—to have all sorts of thoughts about which parts of his body I might like to trail my lips across. I didn’t want to think of him like that—ahem, enemy—but the way his clothes adhered to his muscles, and the way his eyes and lips suggested all sorts of trouble, the kind I very much wanted to get into, I couldn’t very well help myself. The man had an ass I could bounce pebbles off of. What woman could resist that?

Which was precisely my problem while in a nest of eligible females, all casting their nets around him as if he were a prize to be won.

As if they were on the opposite end of the city instead of the room, it took us another hour to reach West, Ryder, and Hiroshi. Along the way, we were stopped by an array of hopeful noblewomen and their parents. Despite their bawdy outfits, bright hair, and questionable accessory choices, they all blended together. Each of the eight fae clans had sent multiple representatives for the upcoming Fae Heir Trials, and all of them wanted a piece of Rush. I met a Coretta something or other, an Eliana, and a Malina, in addition to the aristos I’d met the previous nights. They all had enough names to ensure I wouldn’t remember any but the first, if I was lucky, and they all fawned over Rush as if he were a god of the dragons. The scabbard against my thigh itched constantly by the end of our venture through the vespers, urging me to draw it and put it to good use. But I didn’t know if I could rightfully blame them for being vacuous meat-suits when they’d been raised to believe that station is everything.

The only one of them Rush didn’t mind was a countess of Amarantos, Tula Verena Lark. She was his second cousin with no ambition to become heir to the throne. She was friendly and genuine enough, and when she laughed at how many women were throwing themselves at him, she got me to laugh too. That was, until she brought up Zinnia and how unlikely it was that she’d win tomorrow’s fight, no matter how good it was rumored she was.

“A woman fighting,” Tula said, shaking her head in disbelief as much as wonder. “‘Champion of the people.’ Can you imagine?” She laughed some more.

I didn’t. “Yes, I can,” I said flatly. “Women can be as good of fighters as men. They just need to be trained and lean on their advantages. Men are usually bigger and stronger, but we women can use our agility to be faster than them. If a woman’s smart about how she fights, she can beat almost any man.”

Tula gaped at me.

“That’s how Zinnia was able to hold her own in the sparring match against Rush. She was fast and she knew what she was doing.”

“She definitely did,” Rush said. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but she did. She might actually have a chance tomorrow.”

“No,” Tula said, chuckling. “No way. She’ll be dead before the day’s over. Though it’s magnanimous of Her Majesty to allow her to fight as representative of the fae.”

“Yeah, it’s so amazing of her,” I said, but my sarcasm was wasted on this woman. “Well, Rush, don’t we have to go?”

I hurried him through the final pleasantries before he and Tula could get to reminiscing as they’d done the night before about the times they’d shared as children, when they’d actually been allowed to do interesting things such as roam the forests, play pranks on each other, and adventure with the magical creatures within the Mirror World.

When we finally reached the drakes, I couldn’t bear the thought of another conversation, not even with the guys I’d grown to like well enough. Not even to discuss the upcoming fight tomorrow. I already knew all I needed to know about it. Contestants were pitted against each other “at random,” though I doubted the queen left anything to chance, and once they entered the ring, no one left until either they accepted defeat or were unable to continue, due to injury or death. I didn’t need to hear any more conjectures about the unlikelihood that Zinnia would see another day.

I had to believe I would.

I already knew I’d give every single part of me to the competition. Unlike everyone else, there was no doubt in my mind that I’d be fighting for my life. For my survival, and that of Xeno and Saffron. Possibly also of a hundred plus goblins.

I already knew all I needed to know about the Gladius Probatio. I’d give it my all, and I’d either win or I’d die. There was no in between.

To everyone else, Zinnia was some random fae chosen to fight to honor the queen and fae-kind. However the queen was doing it, she’d orchestrated an entire existence for Zinnia outside of me. From what I heard, she slept in the stables and spent her waking hours there, possibly training, the details I didn’t know.

But tomorrow, no matter what face and body I wore, it was I who had to find the way to survive the day. And the next. And then the next after that. Until I found a way out of this awful place.

After the greetings were finished, I leaned into Rush. “Will you take me to bed?”

I didn’t realize how that might sound until West hooted, and Ryder said, “Get it, man.”

22. NOTHING IS GUARANTEED AND EVERYTHING COMES WITH A PRICE

The return walk to my chambers was silent. Whether or not Rush was revisiting his friends’ reaction to my request that he take me to bed, I couldn’t tell from the stoic line of his jaw and stormy eyes. What I knew for certain was that I couldn’t stop thinking about that tantalizing possibility … until I did, leaning into Rush’s arm more heavily than before, my feet aching in the heels I’d worn for several hours too long.

The day was what had been too long. Every single one spent here was.

I’d been a captive of the crown for nearly two weeks and I was no closer to escaping my imprisonment. If anything, the longer I remained, the more leverage the queen gathered against me, the more the constant tension held my spine too tight, the harder I had to battle against a deep and overcoming exhaustion. If assassins could so easily get to Prince Heir Saturn and now the king, no one was safe. And I had no doubt that, on a whim, the queen might follow through on her threats to murder Xeno, Saffron, Pru, and many other innocents before I could stop her.

Never had I been more grateful to be a trained fighter. In a mirror world where I might be the only female who knew how to defend herself, it was my greatest advantage. But even with that, how was I supposed to fight a woman who could snap her fingers and thus command my body? Who could order Braque to cast spells to control my very mind?

By the time Rush led me into my chambers—at first keeping me close behind him while he scoured the space for concealed killers—I sagged onto the bench seat at the foot of my bed, more massive than Flint’s back in Nightguard. Though he could have demanded it, the grand dragon master had never had much use for superfluous fineries, though nearly every female dragon shifter had either spent time in his bed or had wanted to. He was the strongest specimen of dragon shifter, which was why the Dragon Mother had chosen him as leader of the dragon protectors. Every female in Nightguard sought to mate with him for the characteristics he would eventually pass on to their young—or perhaps it was simply because he was flat-out stunning to look at.

Returning sharply from memories of my life as a dragon attendant, still in a daze I shifted on the cushioned seat to watch the striking man I couldn’t seem to stop admiring despite the many cautions that warned me away. As Rush unclasped his weapons belt, I kicked off my heels and tucked my legs under my skirt. He withdrew a dagger and two of the slim throwing knives before setting the belt on the small night table next to his single bed in the antechamber to my bedroom. The dagger went beneath his pillow, the throwing knives on either side of the bed, wedged between the mattress and bedframe.

As I’d come to expect in my time at Court, Pru appeared seemingly out of thin air, scampering to my side already tsking as she retrieved my carelessly discarded heels and beckoning me to stand so she could help me undress.

I didn’t even have it in me to protest. Without a word, I did as she demanded, and while she untied the fastenings of my skirt and the dozens of ribbons holding together my bodice, I observed how Rush’s back muscles rippled when he removed his shirt. How the light in the swirling markings that wrapped around his upper body was fainter now, like a dim candle, its flame about to go out. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, eyes and hair the color of a mesmerizing moon, lips meant for kissing—not scowling as he was then.

Pru harrumphed, and before allowing me to step out of the confining garments, padded over to the door between him and me, intending to shut it.

“Leave it,” Rush rasped immediately.

“The Lady Elowyn’s undressing,” Pru answered primly while she continued to close the door.

Rush slapped a hand against it. “Then shut it only enough to protect her modesty. But it remains open. I must be able to reach her at all times, and quickly.”

And what if I don’t want my modesty protected? But I didn’t utter the thought aloud, not even in the faintest of whispers that only Pru might hear. I realized even then how foolish the sentiment was. With everything the queen and king had said, it was entirely possible—likely, even—that the queen had acquiesced to Rush being my bodyguard precisely because he was irresistible.

He was her preferred fae drake, and of course the scheming queen would use his looks to lure me in, to get me to lower my guard and become an even easier target for her manipulations.

That was sufficient of a reminder. I blinked repeatedly as if coming out of a fog. Then I scowled.

“That’s better,” Pru said under her breath. “Mistress must keep her wits about her.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d told me that, but I did hope it would be the last I needed the prompting. I wasn’t some idiot girl desperate to give her chastity over to this … evidently virile, extremely fit, gorgeous man who could almost certainly give me whatever pleasure I wanted…

…all night long.

I nibbled on my lower lip until I tasted the tartness of cranberries in whatever pigment Pru had rubbed onto my lips before my foray to the Hall of Mirrors. My purity was such a ridiculous consideration when survival was at stake. I refused to be the kind of woman who succumbed to temptation when that was a fast way to lose everything important to me—including my head.

“Close the door more,” I told Pru as I finally stepped out of the poufy layers of skirt and stood in bloomers that, while an unnecessarily frilly garment, at least I could move in them with ease.

Pru nodded, kicking the door with one of her dragon feet before laying the skirt on a piece of furniture seemingly designed solely for that purpose. She draped the many layers of tulle over a slim dowel of wood adorned with vine-like etchings, while Rush growled and shoved the door farther open—more so than it had been before.

I rolled my eyes. “If you’re hoping for a peepshow, you aren’t being subtle about it.”

“A peepshow,” he drew out, as if surprised at first. I heard his anger settle in as he snapped. “I’m your personal guard. Entrusted by the rulers of this great land to keep you alive and in one piece. How dare you think⁠—?”

“Whoa. Okay, okay.” I waved a calming hand in his general direction, which he could see plenty fine through the six-inch gap. “Got it. You aren’t interested in seeing me naked.”

Those silver eyes of his flared, like the fading embers of a fire stirred up by a gust of air. He jutted his jaw forward while staring hard at me. “Just hurry up and get ready for bed.” Each of his words was surly. “We need our sleep. The tournament starts tomorrow, and I’ll need every advantage I can get.”

“I thought you had the championship all but won already.”

His eyes flared again, a cool fire burning in them. “Nothing’s guaranteed in Embermere. Nothing. Everything comes with a price.”

“He’s right about that,” Pru commented softly as she unclasped a heavy necklace, studded with warm yellow gems, from my neck. She hopped down from the stool she’d drawn close to better reach me and walked the necklace over to my open wardrobe.

Absently, I ran my fingertips across my collarbones, the skin feeling odd now that the weight was gone. It took me a few seconds to notice that Rush’s stare followed their trail.

When I looked up, he snapped his gaze away and kicked off his boots with a grumpy frown. I broadcast a silent what? in his direction, but he was purposefully ignoring me. He slipped out of sight, and water trickled—him pouring the water from a waiting pitcher into a large basin. The water splashed, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing with it. Was he washing his face and mouth? Or perhaps was he rubbing wet hands across those nude, golden muscles?

Pru removed the pins from my hair with more force than was necessary. But she accomplished the task I believed she intended: I was no longer mooning over the last man in all of Embermere I should be craving. Whatever he was washing, I surely no longer cared.

Pru whipped the final pin from my hair, snagging some of the strands.

“Ow,” I yelped.

In the next second, the door was wrenched open so forcefully it banged against Rush’s bed. In he ran, eyes sharp, scanning the large chamber.

This time, Pru rolled her eyes. “She’s fine, Drake Rush. She’s just being a baby.”

It was one of the few things she could have said to distract me from the sight of him: bare chest and feet; his hair long and loose, free of its usual braids; in nothing but thin briefs that revealed much of his legs. His thighs were corded with muscle, his calves rounded with strength. He was a warrior, through and through.

Before I could better examine the man—and I fully intended to since apparently my sense of caution wasn’t loud enough despite my resolve of mere moments before—I snapped to face Pru so quickly that my neck cricked.

“I am not a baby,” I snarled. “You’re a brute.”

Pru shrugged without concern or even meeting the accusation burning through my eyes. She stashed the pins and earrings I’d worn in a drawer in the wardrobe before returning with a nightgown in her arms.

“If everything’s okay,” Rush said, “I’ll go back to my bed then.”

I renewed my glaring the dragonfire out of Pru, but the more I looked at her while she studiously avoided my eyes, the more I couldn’t help but notice how small she was in comparison to me. How drab the house dress she wore was when my clothing was bright and new. Her dress was the color of an oat sack and it hung on her with about as much grace. Her spindly legs were uncovered underneath; she didn’t even get a pair of stockings to keep them warm. Her hair, though tidy, lacked luster and shine. With her odd dragon feet, she looked like she belonged at the palace about as much as I did.

When she bumped the door closed a bit farther with her hip, then climbed up the stool once more, gesturing at me to raise my arms, I offered her a tender smile.

She narrowed her eyes at me in suspicion.

“Not all goblins work here at the palace, but do all goblins work for the Crown?” I asked.

Pru drew off my camisole and flung it to the floor in her haste, rapidly slipping the fresh nightgown over my head. “It’s our great honor to serve the will of the Crown,” she said in the stilted way that suggested the response was rehearsed.

“Yeah, okay, but do any of you … well, you know, do you have free will?”

Beyond my room, a bed creaked, presumably Rush’s weight settling, and then went quiet.

Pru stiffened for a moment before prompting me to unfasten the sheath and blade strapped to my thigh, pulling off my bloomers from beneath my ankle-length nightgown. “We use our will to serve the Crown.”

I fiddled with the fastenings of the weapons strap. “But is it a true choice?”

Pru busied herself brushing out the braids from my hair for so long that I didn’t think she’d answer. When she eventually did, it was so softly that she was pitching her voice so it wouldn’t carry to the other room.

“Few choices in Embermere are real ones, Mistress. We mostly do what we can to make the best of our lot in life.”

“Are there any of you who are free? Like, truly free?”

“In Faerie, definitely. In the Mirror World … probably not.” She dragged the soft bristles through my hair with the gentleness she’d denied me and the pins earlier.

“And the Mirror World is…”

This time she didn’t hesitate to fill in the opening I left for her.

“A place of punishment. Where we all pay for the sins of Her Majesty’s ancestor.” Her words were a biting accusation.

“What’s that mean?” I asked too loudly. More quietly: “Tell me more. Please. I need to know so I can figure out how to survive here.”

Pru tucked the brush into a pocket in her frock. She drew my untangled hair into her fingers and began to make quick work of a single plait that would hang down my back. “The queen’s ancestor was a second prince of the royal line—Prince Borromeo,” she clarified, giving Borromeo a bitter and inelegant pronunciation: borrow-me-oh. “He was a full elf, like they all were back then. This was a long time ago, three-thousand years or so, in the Golden Forest, where the royal line of the elves and fae still lives. I think they do, anyhow.”

“Why do you only think that?” I whispered. “Isn’t that something you’d know?”

“Not if we’re forbidden from ever again setting foot in the Golden Forest just because we’re the descendants of the servants who went with Borromeo.”

“Ah, I see,” I said, although I still wasn’t seeing much. Certainly not enough.

“Borromeo betrayed the fae people, and his father the king punished him by banishing him from Faerie and its Golden Forest forever. But since the Elf King Spiro loved his son dearly, he created a new portal world, one just for him and those the prince took with him. At first it looked just like the Golden Forest except mirrored. Everything was backward and upside down. Compasses pointed south instead of north, west instead of east, that kind of thing. But over time, things changed in their own unique ways. Unbound to the Golden Forest, I doubt Embermere or even the Wilds look much like what they once did. Goblin lore says that everything was beautiful at the start. Nature was pristine, colorful, vibrant, and happy. Even far away from the royal palace everything was harmonious. The animals lived among the fae.”

“Even the dragons?” I asked.

“Even them.”

“Is that why all the dragons died off? Because of this punishment? This mirror world?”

Pru patted my back indicating she was finished, and I turned toward her, nearly face to face for once with her atop the stool.

I frowned. “Though I guess dragons don’t just accidentally end up with their severed heads on top of pikes.”

“No, the dragons … that was the queen’s father, King Erasmus. That was a whole different story.”

I must have looked hopeful because she added, “And a story that will have to wait for another day, when you don’t have to be up soon for the tournament.”

“But you can’t leave me hanging like this,” I protested loudly enough to draw a response from Rush.

“Whatever it is, she can and she will. We need our rest. Every minute wasted now’s one we don’t get to sleep. I need to be as sharp as possible tomorrow.”

“We’re finished, Drake Rush,” Pru called across the length of the room.

At some point, Rush must have extinguished the light in the antechamber. It was too dark for me to make out anything from between the gap in the door.

“Good,” he said.

Pru climbed down the stool. I shot a hand to her arm before she could walk away. “What was the betrayal?” I whispered at her. “What could this Borromeo have done that was so awful his father would create an entire other world for him to go to and never return from?”

Pru studied my fingers circling her arm. My hand, though slender and not particularly large, wrapped around the entirety of her bicep with room left over.

“Not now, Mistress. Not today. Rush is right about you needing your rest.” She looked toward the ajar door and lowered her voice even further. “And he doesn’t even know you’ll be fighting too. I’ll be here to get you as soon as he’s gone.”

Relenting, I released her and nodded morosely. “You promise to tell me more when you can though?”

She simply stared at me during a slow cycle of breath. “I don’t make promises lightly, and I’ve already done more than any other goblin would. My granddoody would have a fit if he knew I’d made a blood oath with someone of royal blood.” Her already somber features grew more so; her mouth drooped.

I ran my fingers along my cotton gown, so thin as to be translucent in the light, studying it instead of her. “And you don’t want to make a promise to someone everyone thinks will die tomorrow in the tournament.”

“No, that’s not it. That would give me more reason to commit, not less. I’d be free in a day.”

Lips tight, I nodded blindly, and when Rush’s bed creaked, suggesting he was attempting to get comfortable and go to sleep, I plodded toward my own bed. Pru drew the covers, dragging them down from one side, and I climbed in without another word, holding the one knife I’d managed to gain to my chest.

“Sleep well, Mistress,” Pru said before walking across the room, extinguishing the glowing orb lights, and disappearing into the deep darkness that remained behind.

23. CAN’T ISN’T THE SAME AS WON’T

I had no notion of what time it was or how many more hours remained before I had to get up and face a day of fighting for my life in the wrong body. I was, however, all too aware of how vital it was that I rest. In fact, I was desperately aware of how crucial this night was.

And that was the problem.

My stupid mind wouldn’t shut the hell up and let me fall into a deep sleep, gloriously free of all the churning worries that did me no good to review.

It wasn’t like all the toiling led me any closer to a solution. Nope. I wasn’t a single step nearer to my escape.

And the more wasted minutes that ticked by, the more I agonized over what would happen to Xeno and Saffron now that they were here in Embermere somewhere if I were to die as everyone expected. Saffron was still a baby. No dragon deserved to have its head lopped off and impaled on a pike. A baby deserved that fate even less so.

Then I starkly realized I’d been a complete idiot for using the rare opportunity when Pru was inclined to share information talking about the damn Mirror World instead of my friends. The Mirror World wasn’t going anywhere, and what little knowledge I’d gained about it hadn’t helped. But if I’d thought to ask about Xeno and the dragonling, I probably would have learned something that could serve me in freeing them. Had Xeno completely recovered from a possibly fatal injury? Even dragon shifters could be killed if the person doing the killing knew what they were doing.

Snapping the covers off my body with a crisp crack, I grunted my frustration loudly. “Shit,” I seethed—then squealed.

Blinking rapidly to make sense of the shape looming over me in the darkness, I scrambled backward on the bed until I hit the massive headboard with my shoulders. “Get away from me,” I snarled as I reached for the dagger I’d stashed under my pillow. But I was sitting on my pillow, so it took me another moment to retrieve it while I lifted my bum.

By then, the figure had grown closer. Larger. More imposing. More dangerous.

Lunging forward rapidly, I slashed at it in a wide arc of my blade.

It jumped back, impossibly fast.

“What the hell, El?” Rush’s voice growled.

“Rush?”

“Of course. Who the fuck else would it be?” His voice was a rough rasp of irritation.

Which instantly ratcheted up my annoyance levels.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a freaking assassin trying to murder me. You know, like they did with my father and motherfreaking half-brother.” I hadn’t thought of Saturn in those terms before, but it hit me then that I’d lost a brother without ever having known him. “What are you doing?” I accused as I finally made out the faintest outline of Rush’s body—and the blade he still aimed in my direction. “And would you stop pointing that thing at me already?”

“I could say the same to you.”

“You could, but are you going to?” It was petty and I knew it; I didn’t care. I was more miffed with myself than him, but he was a better target. He was the duplicitous enemy in my midst, sent by the queen to spy on me and then kill me in the ring under the guise of fair competition.

I clutched the hilt of my dagger harder, refusing to put it down solely because he asked me to.

“What are you going to do, stab me?” Rush’s growly voice had grown deeper. “I’m your guard, remember?”

I ignored both his sarcasm and the fact that I’d largely forgotten he was sleeping in the next room over with the door open between us. The night had already been long, and he didn’t make any noise. In Nightguard, I’d shared a yurt with Zako up until his death. Unlike some of the shifters, whom I could hear through the thick fabric walls from several yurts away, he hadn’t snored like a saw making its way through a log, but he had snored, just more softly. I’d assumed all men did.

Rush slept as silently as the snow cats that prowled the mountains, searching for easy prey or the dragons’ leftovers.

Rush put down his dagger. Scowling at him even if he couldn’t see it in the dark, I did the same. But I kept mine at the ready, laying it on the bed while I waited for my heartbeat to slow.

He tossed his blade onto the foot of my bed and brought both hands to his hips, staring hard at me. The weight of his eyes—and aggravation—burned along my skin.

I tried to return the favor but that was when I really noticed that he was mostly naked. Other than his briefs, he was all flesh, all glorious muscles and golden skin. If only I could make out all the details now that I was in the mood to stare and not care … I scarcely made out shapes, lines and curves. What a shame.

“You’re cold,” he said. “You should get back under the covers and go to sleep.”

My nipples had indeed tightened, though I wasn’t as certain as he that it was from the cold. I’d been sweating a little while ago, my busy mind putting me through an unwilling workout.

“Maybe then we’ll both finally get some sleep,” he grumbled.

The defensive tension fled my muscles in an instant, replaced by leaden guilt.

I released my hold on the weapon, tucked my legs under the sheets, and ran fingertips along their outline. I guessed they might be silk, but I’d only ever heard the fabric described. Dragons and dragon shifters had little use for such things as silk. They’d probably had some for sale in the markets of Crestshine Lake, but not where Zako took me. The sheets here were a thousand times softer than the ones back home. I should have been melting into them, not tossing and turning.

At half the volume of before, I asked, “Have I kept you up?”

“Of course you have. You’ve been busier than a sneakle on a secret mission.”

I shifted on the bed, sighing. “What’s a sneakle?”

The heat of his stare settled on my face for several long moments. “You don’t know what a sneakle is?”

“Obviously not,” I retorted, content to be back in the company of my old friend, righteous indignation. Better than guilt by a mile. “Or I wouldn’t have asked you.”

Again, seconds drew out before he answered. “You’re sure to have seen sneakles around the palace.”

I waited.

He breathed in, then out. “They’re the cats. Changelings. They’re sneaky little devils who’ll steal the shirt right off your back and you’d never even notice until you went looking for it.”

“Oh,” I said lamely.

He took a couple of steps closer until his thighs hit the bed. My stare trailed across them, able to pick out a few more details thanks to his proximity. His skin looked hard and soft all at once. My fingers itched with the need to run across it. To explore what hung between his legs, a mystery I’d seen only at a distance—growing up among shifters, nudity was a common sight—and never touched.

He crossed his arms over his chest, causing his biceps to swell. “They for sure have sneakles in Forzantos. How do you not know about them?”

“I guess you could say I’ve been, ah, sheltered.”

“You ‘guess you could say?’” he repeated in a tone that suggested he wasn’t buying my line of dragonshit any more than I was.

“Yeah, I mean…” I trailed off.

I actually wanted to tell him the truth. Why wouldn’t I? Sure, he was no ally. But even so, he might still let information slip that could help me. If I relied on Pru’s good will and mood, it might be months before I got a whole picture of the true workings of this place.

I sat up straighter and leaned forward, drawn to all that skin of his on display as if it were a fragrant lily I wanted to sniff. “Look. Rush. I really want to tell you everything. Truly, I do.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I can’t.”

“‘Can’t’ isn’t the same as ‘won’t.'”

“Yeah, duh. I know.” I frowned, forcing myself to look away from the stretches of smooth muscles save for a few bumps and ridges that I guessed were scars. I had my fair share of them too.

“Listen to me carefully,” I said. “I really do want to tell you the truth about everything. But I can’t. Why don’t you think that through. You already know I was abducted and brought here against my will to start. I told you that the day we met.” He hadn’t lifted a finger to help me get out of here, submitting to the monarchs’ wishes over my own, treating my kidnapping like an everyday event. By dragonfire, around here, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

He appeared to be mulling all that over, his attention on the flesh of my bare arms growing warmer even in the near darkness of the room. It skimmed across my neck, my breasts, over my stomach, then lower still. At least my legs were tucked under the sheets.

I squirmed, then immediately wished I hadn’t, even in the dark. Dammit, I knew better. I could still hear Zako’s teachings echoing through my memory: Never reveal a weakness to your enemy, or you’ll give them a weapon to use against you. I could still make out the subtle accent in his voice. He sounded like no one else I’d ever met.

Somewhere along the line, the temptation that was Rush had become a weakness. One I could never allow him to discover. Had I known how my life would play out, I could have argued to Zako that my pristine celibacy that was so important to him was actually a liability. I wouldn’t be so naïve, so curious, so willing to throw caution to the wind, had I the kind of experience the female dragon shifters back at the encampment did. Rush would be just another man among many. I wouldn’t lean in his direction in response to a basic primal instinct to reproduce.

Refocusing on the immediate, I prompted, “Remember how I’d squeak all those times when I did try to tell you stuff…”

When he finally spoke, he rubbed at the scruff on his chin as he did. “You’re trying to tell me that … the queen had … who? Braque, probably … do a spell on you to keep you from revealing things to me?”

Yes! Aloud, I squealed like a newborn dragon chirping for its momma. “Fucking finally. Though, not just for you. I’m not allowed to—” Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeeeeaaaak. I rolled my eyes skyward and groaned.

“So are you not from Forzantos?”

Squeak. After, I tried shaking my head no instead, but my skull felt fused to my neck. Braque’s spell was a bit fickle, but when it made up its mind, boy, did it have some strength behind it.

But Rush didn’t need my answer. Sounding like his eyes and mouth were wide, he slid his dagger farther toward the center of the bed, bumping his hand into my shins through the sheets, and sat. “No wonder every time I tried to introduce you to someone from Forzantos you ran like a fluffy bunny rabbit with a target on its back.”

I tsked. “I did not run like a fluffy bunny rabbit. I deflected and evaded. You know, like a spy.” Something he probably knew a whole hell of a lot about…

I narrowed my eyes at his outline. “How do you know about Braque’s—” Spell to keep you from talking about things? It was all a mess of chirps of the most irritating kind. I growled, though Rush surely got the message. He was sharp enough.

He chose that moment to lean against the post at his back, carving out a bit more distance between us. Enough that I struggled to make out his expressions.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” he announced innocently. Too innocently.

“Oh, right. I just bet you don’t.”

“So how are you the king’s daughter, then?”

“Nope. Not happening. If you want to do this whole grill me with questions thing, you have to give as much as you take, buddy. An even exchange. Why does the queen have such a hold on you? What’s her leverage?”

His spine straightened, and I suspected every other part of him stiffened behind the shroud of poor lighting too. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Wrong. It’s very much my concern. She has you spying on me and reporting back to her.”

A sharp exhale slipped from his lips.

“Exactly,” I went on. “Though you shouldn’t be surprised I put it all together. I was there when the queen told you to keep her updated on what I do. You think I’m not paying attention? That I just forget what little’s said in front of me when I’m desperate for information?” When he didn’t comment, I pressed on. “Whatever reason you have for spying on innocent me is incredibly relevant. So … what’s she got on you?”

Sounding like he had to drag each word across an entire mountaintop to get it out, he said, “I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I lay on the sarcasm as thick as I could. “Your words, not mine.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not.”

“Yes, it is.” Stiff as a tree trunk, he snatched up his blade and rose from the bed.

“Double standard much?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Yeah, ya do. You’re not fooling me with your pretty and dumb act.”

His head swiveled in my direction. “You think I’m … ‘pretty?’”

“No,” I snarled. Good thing Braque at least didn’t interfere with my innate ability to lie. “Do you think I’m pretty?” I threw back at him as a quick diversion tactic.

“Yes,” he grumbled bitterly.

My chin jerked back in surprise. I grinned wickedly. “Exactly how pretty do you think I am?”

“I’m going back to bed,” he snarled as if he were a bear I’d woken from hibernation. “And you’d better let me get some fucking sleep already.”

“Or what?” I taunted, all previous sense of remorse at his lack of rest long gone.

“Or I’ll make you.”

I sat with that tantalizing threat during his entire angry march across my room. He smacked the door all the way open even though it hung ajar enough, making it crack against the wall behind it. Next he flopped onto his bed with a blatant lack of grace when I knew he possessed a fair deal of it. And then he tossed and turned noisily on the bed before yanking the covers over his body with enough irritation to make them audibly snap as mine had, starting this whole ordeal in the first place.

“Now, go the fuck to sleep,” he growled.

“What happened to your usual politeness and all that ‘Lady Elowyn’ stuff?”

“You’re not whom I thought you were.”

“Yeah, well neither are you.”

In fact, I was realizing I barely knew the man at all.

But I did know the one thing more important than any other.

He was my enemy.

A foe.

Someone I could never, ever trust.

24. RESTRAINT IS FROWNED UPON BY THE FAE

The sunrise was already lightening the sky outside my window when sleep finally claimed me. After all that tossing and turning, all that worrying and wondering, I fell out so deeply that Pru had to shake me awake.

“Mistress,” she whispered from too near my ear, her knobby fingers clutching my shoulder. “It’s time to get up. You must hur⁠—”

“If you tell me to hurry up right now, I’m gonna make a point of moving so slowly that it’ll drive you crazy.” Next I groaned, turned onto my side to dislodge her hand, and took the covers with me.

The goblin only leaned farther over the bed, her words as close as before. “But Mistress must hurry.”

I growled into my pillow.

“She’s already in the body of Zinnia,” Pru went on. “If anyone should walk in, they’ll see her like this.”

“That’s the queen’s problem, not mine. I never wanted to lie to anyone. Better that it all gets exposed. Easier for me.”

I flipped onto my back and opened my eyes, yelping like a piglet once I did.

Pru’s dark, imploring, pupil-less eyes were a foot from mine, big and wide, drawing every bit of my attention to them. I scrambled away from her until my head bumped the headboard.

“Holy dragonfire, Pru! Ya ever hear o’ personal space?”

She blinked somberly. “No.”

“For shit’s sake,” I muttered, wide awake now. I rubbed a hand over my face, glancing toward the very much closed door between my bedroom and the antechamber. “Where’s Rush?”

“Gone. The king’s personal royal guards await just outside. His Majesty insisted they protect Mistress.”

Sitting up to lean against the headboard, I scanned the shape of my body beneath the covers: shorter, bulkier legs that were thankfully still powerful. I sighed loudly, heavy on the suffering. Not only was I to fight in trials that were stacked against me, but the queen had—likely very intentionally—done what she could to remove my innate advantages.

“Mistress must hurry,” Pru prompted, eliciting a full-fledged growl from me.

It didn’t appear to rattle her in the least, so I snapped at her, “And knock off all this third-person ‘mistress’ shit. It’s weirding me out.”

Pru took a few steps backward from the bed, her large, flat dragon feet padding softly first on the area rug and then the smooth, wooden floor. “Yes, of course, if that’s what Mistress desires.” Then she crossed to the clothing perch she’d already covered with what I’d wear for the opening fight.

I stared at her for a minute, relieved to find her fiddling with a dense top and bottoms that appeared to be made from some kind of protective hide. “Wait a minute. Are you messing with me right now?”

She peeked over her shoulder at me and snickered.

I felt my eyes go wide as hers had been just moments ago. “Pru,” I breathed, “did you just … make a joke … and laugh?”

“No, I most certainly did not, Mistress. And if you tell anyone I did, I’ll deny it to my final death.”

I couldn’t help a chuckle of my own. “Fair enough. You keep my secrets, I’ll keep yours.” I scooted to the edge of the bed and swung down my legs. “Not that you’ve been given much of a choice. The threat of beheading isn’t exactly the foundation of objective decision-making.”

Her fingers abandoned my clothes to flutter seemingly aimlessly and with a fair amount of panic. She looked at the ceiling, the walls, and then the corners between them.

She all but ran toward me, glancing over her shoulder a couple of times despite the short distance from where she stood to the bed. When she spoke, her voice was little more than an exhale. “You shouldn’t talk like that. Not here, not anywhere within the palace walls. You must remember: there are eyes and ears everywhere, and they all report back to”—she looked behind her at empty space once more—“the queen.”

Then, loudly, addressing our invisible audience, Pru announced, “It’s time to get you dressed, Mistress. You don’t want to be late.”

But the blood had done a good job of draining from my face. It took a few beats, but Pru noticed.

She drew to my bedside again, extending her fingers as if wanting to comfort me and then thinking better of it, dropping her hands to her sides, where they caused her lump of a dreary frock to billow. “Are you … all right?”

I nodded then immediately changed gears, shaking my head so hard that my hair, Zinnia’s unfamiliar copper, thrashed in front of my face. “I … I forgot, and I…” I too scoured the room for these hidden spies—only I had no idea what I was looking for. The room appeared safe—yet another one of the palace’s many illusions apparently, something I absolutely needed to remember. My volume dropped to a dying gasp. “I told Rush I was under a spell not to tell him or anyone else where I’m really from. I told him in this room, and I wasn’t being particularly quiet, dammit.”

Pru’s normally ashen skin blanched. “How did you manage that?”

I frowned. “Persistence and, well, a whole lot of undignified squeaking.”

Pru waggled her jaw back and forth, staring blankly in my general direction. Eventually she said, “That shouldn’t have been possible. And Rush should have known better.”

“I’m not sure Rush was thinking straight.”

She shook her head, her limp hair sliding listlessly around her scrawny shoulders. “I’m not surprised. He’s taken with you.”

My heartbeat stuttered. “What?”

“We don’t have time for this.” Pru waved me out of bed and toward the bathing room. “We must hurry, or it’ll be⁠—”

“Off with our heads. Yes, yes, I know.”

Pru waved her hand over a spigot nestled in a deep basin and water flowed freely. “Today you’ll be at risk of losing your head from all sorts of directions.”

With one foot inside the smaller room, I stilled. “You’re kidding again, right? They don’t actually cut off heads in this tournament.” I laughed, a vacuous, nervous chime. “I mean, I know people die in the fighting because that’s what I’ve been told, but nobody’s chopping off body parts … right?”

She grabbed my wrist and tugged me forward, gathering my hair and bending me over the bowl, where she proceeded to wash my face as if I were a young, incompetent child. So fast were my thoughts running in conflicting directions that I let her.

“There’s never before been a tournament to determine the next fae heirs in the Mirror World. But the few times over our shared history that they did take place in the Golden Forest, a great many lost their heads. Restraint is frowned upon by the fae. Mistress, you need to go in there, sword swinging, and bring down your opponent before they have the opportunity to cut you open. Here. Rinse your mouth.”

I obeyed. “I’ve never … I mean, I’ve never killed anyone before.”

“Then you’d better come to terms now with making today your first kill. If you don’t, you won’t live to regret your hesitance. There’s no one who’ll protect you once you enter the fighting ring. They’re not allowed. You’ll have no Rush, no royal guards, no one and nothing but yourself.”

I gulped before reminding myself forcefully, I am enough. Since Zako died it had been just me. Sure, Xeno had been there, but I couldn’t rely on him the way I had Zako—even if the man had obviously lied to me during all our time together.

I scowled fiercely, part determination, part anger. If I had to kill someone I didn’t want to in order to survive, so be it. That wasn’t on me but on this darkly twisted system I’d been dragged into. If I weren’t here, people would still lose their heads. It was just that someone else would be holding the weapons that took them.

I was winning today.

I was doing it for me and no one else.

25. SAVAGERY AND VICTORY, A LONG CONVOLUTED GAME

Pru popped open a moveable panel from the inside of an ancient tree trunk and stepped out of the goblin-carved tunnel. I hurried to follow.

“That was not ideal right before a fight,” I grumbled as I stood, both hands to my lower back, waiting for my spine to straighten before bending back in a stretch. “I’m so over scrabbling through these tunnels instead of walking like a normal person. I think I lost two inches with how long it took to get here, and that’s on top of however much shorter Zinnia already is than me.”

Excited voices, whinnies, and a general din wafted across the rich air of mid-morning, though their source wasn’t yet in sight. It was my first time outside since the king’s attempted assassination, when the queen’s distress had caused the land that surrounded the palace to be overtaken by what resembled a blight in mere instants. Things were returned to normal now, or at least to however “normal” anything in Embermere could be. The grass, bushes, and trees were brightly verdant, and flowers blossomed in all directions, casting the land in a magical tint that did nothing to soothe the constant, roiling unease that consumed my gut. The sky was a clear, vibrant blue, and the clouds overhead were obviously enchanted, dense fluffs of white morphing rapidly from a unicorn that rose onto its hind legs, horn piercing the sky; to a frog, which hopped three times before vanishing; to a dragon that was as large as the great Dragon Mother, consuming enough of the sky to conceal the sun for a few moments.

My appreciation soured as a cloud warrior materialized to decapitate the beast in one swift slice of his sword.

I was still scowling at the puff of murder when it transformed into an innocuous bird whose beak opened as if in pleasant song before it flew away, its body dissolving entirely in a few flutters of its wings.

“Where the hell even are we?” I demanded of Pru as she began walking up a shallow mound covered in tiny lilacs. As I followed, I stomped on one on purpose, no longer in the mood to appreciate anything.

“We’re on the opposite side of the grounds,” Pru said, apparently unperturbed by the fact that their entire society was cool with celebrating the killing of dragons, beasts I’d been raised to all but worship. “The queen had the arena built here after the death of the prince heir. She was still grieving when the walls went up.”

“How very fucking great of her,” I snarled. Each of my steps clanked hollowly. My armor, which was indeed some kind of hide, but of plant instead of animal origin—from the wompa tree—was draped with sheaths, all empty except for my stolen dagger. I intended to arm myself to the teeth once we reached the arena. “You’ve gotta tell me already, Pru. No one can spy on us out here.” I hoped. “What’s the deal with all this dragon killing? Why would anyone want to chop off their heads? They’re magnificent beasts. Crazy powerful and still graceful. They’re, like, magic embodied.”

The goblin didn’t slow her rapid pace. Even though Zinnia’s legs were still several times longer than Pru’s, I had to hustle to keep up.

“I told you already,” the goblin called over her shoulder. “It was the queen’s father, King Erasmus the Bloody.”

“‘The Bloody?’ Why am I not surprised?”

“Before him, dragons were revered in Embermere, and especially in the Wilds, where they were an uncommon sight.”

Though I was loathe to interrupt her once she got going, I had to ask. “What exactly are the Wilds?”

“Untamed lands that surround the territories of the fae clans. You don’t want to go there. It’s savage.”

“It’s savage here.” She didn’t deny it. “You know, Pru, everyone thinks I’m gonna die today. Can’t you at least spill all the beans at once so I can go knowing about the place that killed me?”

She glanced at me as she crested the hillock. “I thought you were planning on winning.”

“Of course I am. But that’s not the point.”

“Winning’s always the point. Fae life’s a long, convoluted game.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

She shrugged and stopped walking, staring down at the sight below. “Regardless, it is.”

I joined her at the top and whistled. “Damn, the coliseum’s massive.”

It lacked the abundance of glass the palace boasted, but it was nearly as grandiose. Perhaps as large as the entire encampment at Nightguard, it rose from the ground in a vast oval. Its walls were wood beneath vines that had ascended their entire length in what seemed like too short a time for the extent of their growth. They, too, flowered—in a raucous show of reds, yellows, oranges, and whites—in on the pretense that what was to take place behind them wasn’t more sinister than any death I’d seen dealt in Nightguard, where protectors only killed others in self-defense or in the line of duty.

The walls—and vines—climbed several stories. One end swelled in a single rounded turret, a boil on the ass of this massive stadium, a giant sky-blue flag flying proudly to match the many smaller similar banners dotting the top crenelation.

“The queen doesn’t do anything halfway,” Pru commented idly, evidently numb to the terror of her everyday existence.

My mouth tugged downward. “I can see that.”

“We’d better hurry.”

My cheek spasmed at her overuse of the word.

She resumed walking. “Guards will be wondering where you are.”

“You told the king’s guards you were taking me through the tunnels?”

“Of course not. They believe you’re still in your rooms. Other guards wait for you—Zinnia—at the arena.”

I pursed my lips. So many lies. “What excuse were the king’s guards given for my not attending the Gladius Probatio when everyone else is?”

“I don’t know for sure. I’d guess they were told you weren’t feeling well.”

“Of course. Why would anyone here tell the truth? That would be freaking absurd.”

Her shoulders rose and dropped in a silent sigh. “It would be nice.”

“Yeah, I know. I was being sarcastic.”

“We goblins aren’t allowed to be that. Not at court.”

“Shocker.” When it didn’t seem as if she would speak on her own, I pressed, “And why will ‘Zinnia’ have guards when she’s a commoner?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. Because she—you—are a representative of the fae people in general, not of the ruling nobility of the fae clans. Not everyone’s happy about that.”

I walked alongside her. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, the many nobles who traveled to compete in the Gladius Probatio aren’t thrilled by the distraction.”

“Distraction. Because they don’t see me as a threat.”

She shrugged again, and I was struck by how slight she was beneath her dingy dress.

“Good. Let them keep thinking that,” I said. “I’m used to being underestimated.”

“I know the feeling.”

We were drawing closer to a bevy of horses and fancy carriages, parked off to one side of the gigantic structure. With a renewed sense of urgency, I asked, “So, the dragons. If they were once revered, what did the bloody king do to change that?”

“He condemned them for stealing away his brother.”

“What? And that was it?”

Pru nodded but without the kind of heaviness I would anticipate from such conversation. “What the fae Crown says, goes. We must obey.”

The breath was lodged in my throat; I had to push out the words. “And they just … killed all of them?”

“Every last one of them.”

“Did the dragons even steal the brother?”

“It doesn’t matter whether they did or not.”

“Of course it does,” I snarled.

“Not in Embermere it doesn’t. Even if the king had no good reason, it wouldn’t have mattered. We still would have had to kill them all.”

Righteous rage simmered in my gut, like a pot about to boil over. “I take it you’ve never seen a live dragon.”

“No, I haven’t, but how did you know that?”

“Because you wouldn’t be talking about their annihilation like it’s the damn weather, not if you’d seen them. Not if you knew what they’re like.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Her words were soft now.

I gathered my resolve and my sudden desire to avenge the shit out of the dragons, straightening my shoulders. “All right. Tell me whatever else you can about what today will look like.”

After sharing relatively inane details that probably wouldn’t help me much while competing, Pru clammed up tighter than a stick shoved up the queen’s unholy ass. She didn’t have to warn me this time. All eyes were on me as early as when we passed the steeds, which were mostly none like I’d ever encountered before. A few of them indeed looked like ordinary horses, much like the ones Dougal and his abducting crew had employed when they’d taken me. But most of them were … I couldn’t tell precisely what. Most lacked fur, instead covered in what I would have sworn were dragon scales if they weren’t on the wrong animal. The coats ranged from a pure, pearlescent white to a violet so deep and rich it was indigo. There were crimson scales and emerald-colored ones, a cheery pink and sunshine yellow. I couldn’t help but stare.

One draped in the most beautiful multi-colored scales in hues of the sea—like the merfolk in another of my favorite stories, The Sirens of Loch Plume—snorted haughtily at me, jerking its proud nose into the air far above me. The animal stood taller than any horse I’d ever seen, the dip of its back higher than my head.

I tsked back at the vain beast. For a society that despises dragons, they sure have a lot of remnants of them. The horses, the goblins, the royal crest…

When I entered a tunnel wide enough for the creatures and the carriages they drew, I forgot all about their scales—and lost sight of Pru, who seemed to vanish into the walls themselves.

No, Good luck or, Kick fae-drake ass, or even, I hope you survive the day.

Okay, so I hadn’t exactly thought she was my friend, but maybe that she at least was invested in whether I lived or died? Yes. Definitely.

I shoved down the sharp reminder of how alone I was, and how very much rode on my foreign shoulders. For the first time in what felt like ages, I purposefully reached for memories of Zako, wishing he were here to encourage me.

Zako, at least, didn’t disappoint. His elegant accent swept through the clamor of the crowd to swim through my mind.

You care about your opponent’s thoughts for one reason only: to anticipate their moves. Read them like the books you so enjoy devouring. But don’t waste your energy on what they might think of you. That’s their purview, never yours. It matters only that you believe in yourself. That you taste your victory. Anything else is a distraction. Now, close your eyes and see yourself delivering the victory blow.

Despite the fact that my master’s corpse was ashes traveling on winds, I did as he said. Stopped right where I stood as fae drifted past me, and allowed my eyes to close.

I pushed away the crowd’s rowdiness, the individual shouts that stood out from the cacophony, and drew all my attention inward. To my heartbeat.

Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.

Then to my breath.

I waited until both were as calm as if I’d just woken from a deep and rejuvenating sleep.

Then I envisioned myself in this new body. Lunging with grace, side-stepping with ease, fast as the very dragons I’d grown up with. As adept as Grand Dragon Master Flint himself. I pictured that same strength and agility, that power, and I saw myself deliver the winning strike to a muscular chest covered in armor like mine, the head and rest of the body faded out.

When the ease of my movements and my victory had settled within every part of me like a long-held truth, I allowed my eyes to drift open slowly, gradually⁠—

Someone plodded into me from behind, jerking my right shoulder forward. I stumbled a couple of steps before catching myself.

The brute and his companions laughed heartily, throwing their heads back as they did, saying loudly enough that they’d be sure I heard, “That’s her. Zinnia. The dead woman walking.”

It didn’t help that Braque gave me starkly copper-hued hair, a tone so bright and dazzling I hadn’t seen it on any other fae thus far. Even with my hair wrapped around my head in dozens of tiny braids, I was as recognizable as the queen herself.

I struggled to hold my calm indifference.

The nebulous sensation of my win.

The knowledge of my skill in this odd body.

My fight had already begun…

“Zinnia?” someone asked in a tiny voice.

I looked down. A goblin smaller even than Pru, with black-scaled feet, tugged at one of my empty scabbards to draw my attention.

“Yes?” Its ashen face and knobby nose were so much like Pru’s.

“Her Great Majesty the Queen Talisa Zafira Tatiana of Embermere has a message for you.” The goblin extended a scroll toward me. It was sealed with the royal crest: two dragons, back-to-back, in a perfect mirror of each other. The wax was chunky and bulbous, the hue a perfect match to fresh-pumping blood. The seal at its center looked nothing short of ominous.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” the goblin whispered conspiratorially, as if even this admission could land them in trouble. “It’s a generous message of encouragement. Her Great Majesty the Queen Talisa Zafi⁠—”

“Yes?” I interjected.

Pink suffused the goblin’s cheeks. “Well, Her Majesty’s rooting for you. She wants you to win.” The goblin looked to all sides before leaning in as close as they could without actually touching me, rising on to their tiptoes. “I am too.”

Before I could thank them, the goblin handed over the scroll and bustled down the ample hallway.

I slid a finger beneath the wax seal, breaking it, and unrolled the sky-blue parchment. In a flowery scrawl that would have been lovely if not for the words it spelled out in a red as bloody as the wax, I read the queen’s “encouragement” silently.

Remember I hold a sword not only to your throat but also to that of your Nightguard friends and disgusting dragon, and to that of the goblin who serves you, the entirety of her lineage, and every friend she has ever had, and to Reed and his family and friends too.

Do not let me down or you’ll live to regret it … and die soon thereafter. I’ll stick your head on a pike next to your precious dragons.

I had the briefest of moments to assume the one and only way not to let her down was to lose the Gladius Probatio, likely losing my head as well in the process, before the parchment caught fire. Seemingly nothing had ignited it, and yet it burned so quickly that I had to drop it to the ground at my booted feet to avoid being burned.

When I looked up, I saw no one watching me. However, I suspected someone was—probably several someones—and with that unsettling feeling like an arrow pressed to the center of my back, I marched into the arena.

Toward my destiny.

Or my doom.

Only the day would tell.

26. TAKE ME TO THE WEAPONS

Two guards decked out in pristine mustard-yellow tunics and matching fluffy plumes atop their caps—but no armor—skidded to a stop alongside me as I prepared to emerge from the tunnel and into the arena at large.

They were out of breath, the large feathers atop their heads bobbing from their previous efforts in finding me, I presumed. With wide wild eyes, they stared continually at each other as often as they did me. With their attitudes and single short swords that hung at their sides, they were unlikely to defend me from much of anything.

I said to them by way of greeting, “Cutting it a bit close there, huh?”

But then I barely heard their similar responses of “Too close” as I took in my first real view of the arena—and the extent of the faes’ magic.

Zako had been the only other fae, full-blooded or half like me, at Nightguard. I’d seen him use his magic thousands of times but always for minor tasks. On the coldest nights he’d warm our yurt by a few extra degrees, remove stains from our clothing or bedding, and encourage a single lily—black as night with fuchsia speckles and scented like a dream—to bloom for me from a seed every single year on my birthday, though the frigid mountains were as far from a lily’s usual climate as could be.

Occasionally, rarely even, a witch by the name of Clara, with flaming red hair and so much power that even I could sense it, would ride into Nightguard on the back of a dragon. No dragon protector, not even Flint, dared ride the beasts they had such a healthy respect for. But no one objected to Clara’s mode of transport. No one interfered with the magic she cast on the settlement, grateful for it instead. It was due to her that I didn’t freeze into a human-shaped icicle on day one.

Despite her visits, though I’d sneak peeks at her as she worked, extra fascinated when she didn’t appear to use spells to perform her magic, and despite all the enchantments I’d seen at work at the palace already, I found myself wholly unprepared for all that the coliseum housed. I slowed to a stop, hardly hearing the guards’ promptings to continue on.

The center of the arena was open, a wide area that no doubt would see all the fighting, its surface a model, I guessed, of Embermere. Far from smooth, it undulated in what appeared to be miniature hills and mountains, ravines and gullies. Even what might have been raging rivers at their actual size were so diminished in the field as to be no wider than my wrist. Green dusted the ridges and valleys, though more often, a wide range of browns coated the topography like icing.

Though I couldn’t help but admire the spellwork, all it meant to me then was that I’d have to watch my footing as closely as my opponent.

Waterfalls gushed downward along every inside wall with so much force that they should have roared. Instead, they whispered, and their waters were swallowed up without consequence by the ground.

Large crystalline orbs as tall as me were displayed on pedestals at nine different points around the arena, and within each rose an entire miniature city. The only one I recognized was Embermere and the royal palace at its center, leading me to presume that the others might be the territories of the eight fae clans. Frogs as massive as the spheres sat to either side of them, apparently guarding their contents. Each frog boasted flesh of a different color, bright as any flower garden I’d ever seen.

Above the continually pounding waterfalls, row upon row of seating circled the upper levels of the coliseum, save for within the round turret, where I imagined the monarchs would soon assemble beneath flags emblazoned with the royal crest. Two thrones occupied the majority of the viewing platform, and I couldn’t but notice how one of them sat just a little bit more forward than the other. No doubt, the queen would claim that throne, the king forever in her shadow.

Every possible seat in the bleachers was claimed, a vast array of fae and creatures bouncing excitedly, chattering and shouting at each other from across the stands. The bawdy costumes the courtiers wore to evening events at the palace were notably absent, revealing the true nature—and astonishing variety—of the fae people. All had pointed ears, but some were sharp crests, others a mere subtle bump amid an otherwise round ear—more like mine. The majority in the stands were full-sized, but several were larger still, and many half that and smaller by far. Hair ranged from dark as tar to pale as rainless clouds, from the green of marshes to the blues of the seas, to the burnt oranges and umbers of fields of grain, and even to the hues of the flowers that blossomed untended throughout nature. Here at last were others with a copper hue similar to Zinnia’s. There were lilacs, vibrant reds, magentas, sunflower yellows, and coral. For as varied as was their hair, flat and straight and shockingly curly too, their faces were even more so, their bodies a testament of enduring diversity. Skin colors ran the gamut of possibilities nearly as much as the hair, though the vast majority had skin that was somewhere on the scale from a pale peach to a smooth brown, darker still until some had flesh the rich alluring color of chocolate. And then most were smooth, but some were covered in thin fur in some parts like their ears. Others had tails sticking out from beneath britches and dresses. A few nearby had noses that resembled and twitched like a fox’s. Others had too many rows of needle-sharp teeth amid faces with eyes too large.

Whatever the spectators looked like, there was no mistaking their shared enthusiasm for the trials to come. When the first noticed my arrival, they passed the message along, and as fast as a raging fire, myriad curious eyes landed on me.

One of the guards alongside me stepped closer. “Come on. No time to waste ogling. You should already be with the others.”

The second leaned in, his plume pointing toward my face. “We have to get you where you belong before Her Majesty arrives.”

I peered out across the crowd, squinting into the sun that was rapidly climbing higher. “Take me to the weapons, then.”

I followed as they, with their swords clanking uselessly at their sides in such a careless manner that I doubted they knew much about how to use them, led me past a smooth inner wall, covered in vines and blooming roses, to a dugout area, where there were already at least fifty others.

Every single one of them, even their attendants, were male, and all attention scanned me the moment I arrived. Mine skimmed across the fighters too, the handful of their friends or family visiting, and several goblins, to find Rush. Even among what I presumed were some of the strongest and most worthy of the fae, he stood out. Tall, brawny, swift, agile … a warrior at the very pinnacle of the food chain.

His moonlight hair undulated with small plaits, all pulled back into a single larger braid that rested against his armor. His eyes, so light they seemed to glow, brightened when they saw me, though his brows were bunched like jags of lightning.

With every one of the many sheaths strapped to his body filled, he smiled welcomingly and approached. “Zinnia.” He dipped his head toward me. “We were beginning to wonder if you’d changed your mind.”

I returned the smile, allowing my gaze to travel across several tables of weapons, all picked through now but still infinitely better than the practically nothing I currently had. “And why would I do that?” I asked since I couldn’t speak the truth and explain that I couldn’t do that no matter how much I might wish to run away from Embermere and never, ever look back.

Though it would be a great shame not to share in this man’s company again. That alone, and the inexplicable pull I felt toward him, was almost reason to stay.

Almost.

“Because you have no chance of winning,” replied Lennox, the copper-haired man I’d seen at the Hall of Mirrors but not been introduced to. Without his fineries and orange-tinted lips, lashes, and brows, I hadn’t recognized him at first.

I turned my smile toward him, allowing it to grow cold. “Then you have nothing to fear with me competing.”

He scoffed loudly, looking to either side of him to confirm no one but me thought him capable of something so outlandish as fear. And yet I recognized it, guarded but there, swirling in his hard brown eyes.

“I’m not afraid,” he announced with another chortle. “It is you who should be afraid.”

“You say that because you think I don’t know how to fight?”

After another look at the others, he nodded. “Obviously. We’ve trained most of our lives for an event such as this. You haven’t. You couldn’t have.”

I took a step toward him, the guards remaining put. “You know what they say about making assumptions where I’m from?”

Another chuckle. “The same as they do in every other part of Embermere, I presume.”

“Then you presume wrong.”

He waited, swinging an arm into a shoulder stretch and bouncing lightly on his feet. “Well? Are you gonna tell us or not?”

I tilted my head to the side, eyeing him up and down. His physique was nearly as well developed as Rush’s. In fact, all the competitors gathered here were extremely fit and lithe, except for the one. Half-sized yet stout, he was ignoring me, sharpening a massive ax that was too heavy for me to wield.

I brought my attention back to Lennox. “Not. I have better things to do, like warm up.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Sure. Go ahead and get used to backing down. You’ll need the skill in the arena.”

“Leave her alone, Lennox,” Rush said as he, Hiroshi, Ryder, and West loosely surrounded me, pushing my useless guards even farther into the background.

Lennox held up large, callused hands. “Whatever, guys. You wanna have her back, you go for it. But she hasn’t earned her place here like we have.”

“You know nothing about me, my history, or what I’m capable of,” I said before anyone else could comment, injecting the strength of my conviction into the simple statement. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you in the ring.” Then I winked at him and sauntered over to the tables lined up behind him to choose my weapons.

I picked up a mace and tested its heft. “And, Lennox?” I said without looking.

“Yeah?”

“Do go ahead and believe I’m a helpless, defenseless little woman.” My tone was mocking. “I love proving people wrong.”

I set down the mace and picked up a morning star instead. I hoped not to have to use the spiked ball on a chain, but if any of these men tried to kill me, they’d find me ready for them.

Lennox laughed openly. “Yeah, whatever, girl.” A few others joined in.

I ignored them, buckling a second weapons belt to my hips and beginning to load it. Lennox and some others congregated, stretching their bodies and talking softly, glancing at me repeatedly. Rush and his friends stood off to another side, huddled closely, conferring intently. Apparently in agreement, Rush called me over.

Forehead bunched in question, I approached. “What is it? I’ve gotta get ready.”

Rush’s eyes bore into mine. “Withdraw from the trials.”

I stiffened. “I can’t do that.”

Hiroshi faced me, bright gray eyes imploring. “You can and you should. Make public your thanks to the queen for her grace and magnanimity in allowing you to represent the fae people, and then announce your withdrawal. You can do it after the opening announcement, before the Gladius Probatio officially commences. While you still can.”

“Everyone will understand,” West added. One of the few fae with hair trimmed to above his chin, today he wore it dark and combed back from his face, a shimmering protection along his scalp.

Shorter than the four of them by at least a head, I tilted my chin upward. “And what, exactly, will they understand?”

“That you value your life,” Rush said. “Everyone else here plans to kill you if they can. Well, maybe not the dwarf. He’s a wild card.”

I joined them in glancing at the fighter who was half their height, though not really all that much shorter than me in this body. Noticing our attention, he snarled, baring teeth in our direction, then returned to sharpening his ax.

I shrugged. “The idea of these trials is apparently to kill each other.”

“It shouldn’t be though,” Rush said.

“Yeah, but it is. So what’s the difference?”

“That they’re all skilled enough to follow through on their threats,” Ryder said, his fingers flicking back and forth over the pommel of a sword.

“And I’m equal to their skill.”

“You say that without having seen them fight?” Hiroshi asked while Ryder scoffed, sounding angry.

“That’s brash ignorance, Zinnia,” he said. “Save yourself instead of your pride.”

Slowly, I pinned Ryder in a glare. “I assure you, Ryder, this isn’t about my pride. I haven’t made the rules. I’m just forced to play by them.”

Ryder’s jaw hardened. “This is no game.”

I tsked, slapping a hand through the air. “Don’t you think I know that?” I took the time to stare each of them in the eye. “Look, I promise you, I don’t like this any more than you do, and I have more vested interest in living than either one of you do in seeing me live.”

“Just because we don’t know you well doesn’t mean we want to see you harmed,” West said.

“Which is what distinguishes you lot from the gigantic pricks over there. I’m going to fight no matter what you say. I have to. So you’d be better off telling me what weaknesses any of them have.”

When they all hesitated, I gave Rush a come on look. “You know I can fight. You’ve seen me.”

He frowned, then said, “It’s true. You’re as skilled with a blade as most men I’ve met, and surely more so than any woman I’ve ever known.”

“Okay. So there. Stop fretting.”

Rush’s eyes went from glowing moonlight to stormy winter skies. “These aren’t just any men. They’re warriors. They’ve had the privilege of their stations since birth, preparing them for just such a challenge. They’re going to try to kill you.” He scanned behind us before adding much more softly, “They have their orders.”

My nostrils flared before I noticed and forced them back to resting. Resolve hardening to iron, I snarled, “They aren’t the only ones here with orders. Don’t think I don’t know it.”

The tempest in his eyes churned like a whirlpool.

“I have no reason to trust any of you either,” I added, in case they hadn’t gotten the message.

“None of us want to hurt you,” Rush said.

West, Ryder, and Hiroshi nodded their agreement.

“But our interest in winning isn’t strictly personal,” Rush explained. “If any one of us wins, then the Mirror World will have a much stronger chance of survival.”

“Than under the queen?” I asked.

None of them would answer.

“I see.” Patting myself to ensure I had enough weapons, I began rolling my neck and shoulders. “So what’s that dude Lennox’s weakness?”

When no one hurried to reply to this either, I gave them all a tsk and scowled.

“He favors his left side,” Rush answered before I could protest more. “And he gives away his next strike. He looks in the direction a moment before he moves.”

Apparently resigned to help me however they could regardless of my refusal to bow out, Rush and his friends took turns providing intel on each of my competitors.

Was it too much to hope that I might have found allies after all?

27. THE GLADIUS PROBATIO

Nine fae, all human-sized, svelte, and hauntingly beautiful, dressed in some sort of silver fabric from head to toe that flowed and shimmered like water, glided across the expanse of the arena with a grace and perfection of posture that suggested they wore crowns and were trailed by long, flowing trains. They had neither crown nor train but had obviously practiced their arrival. Their steps fell in unison, a mesmerizing show of coordinated movement.

One by one, they came to stand in front of the nine crystalline spheres, the giant frogs still sentries to either side of the globes, and raised horns of varying sorts. Even before they blew them, a hush had settled throughout their audience.

In order, the fae raised their instruments and sounded a loud, extended note. The first played a conch shell, another some sort of twisted antler, and yet another what looked like a hollow branch of some plant. I didn’t recognize the rest until the representative who stood in front of the miniature replica of Embermere raised her device. The woman’s shoulders were strong and proud.

They shouldn’t have been.

My blood chilled to ice. Even from the other side of the arena I could tell what she cradled in both hands: a dragon snout—very much unattached from the rest of the dragon’s body. Presumably, she would blow through its closed mouth to create “music” through the open back of what should have been the creature’s head.

The scales that wrapped the nose like sheets of vibrant gold hadn’t faded since the dragon’s death. Some despicable magic had to be involved, for the vibrancy of their flesh was supposed to fade along with their life force.

Worse, the scales were a yellow so rich and saturated they reminded me of Saffron.

“Y’all right there, lassie?” asked a gruff, crusty voice.

I glanced at the dwarf. His eyes were a startling green. From amid a thick beard and bushy hair just as dark, they almost glowed.

“That depends,” I answered.

His squat, square forehead crinkled. “On what?”

“On where that dragon horn came from.”

By dragonfire, if the queen had killed Saffron and made him into a fucking horn…

My teeth gritted so intensely they squeaked as they rubbed against each other.

I expected the dwarf to ask more questions, but he didn’t. He simply leaned against his ax, its head pressing into the ground, and watched.

By the time the queen emerged from the tunnel that led into the arena, the horns and spectators had quieted to a reverent—or perchance terrified—hush while my blood very nearly bubbled. I scanned my surroundings for any sign of Pru, any goblin at all to question, but spotted none.

I needed to find Saffron.

And then strangle the queen.

Not necessarily in that order.

A gossamer train was pinned artfully to the long, flowing hair at her nape, to trail several body lengths behind her. Despite the unevenness of the open field at the center of the coliseum, she crossed it with effortless elegance, as if her steps merely skimmed the ground. A crown rested atop her head but also extended downward, dangling around her face like a chandelier, one made of shiny yellow gold and red gemstones. Her dress was an immaculate, pearlescent white, and as she crossed the rugged landscape beneath her feet, not a speck of dirt or grass green affixed itself to her attire.

Again, it had to be magic. The woman clearly had too much of it.

Regardless, I suspected she’d still bleed as red as those rubies she wore if I managed to slice her throat. She wasn’t coated in dragon scales.

The king walked next to her. Besides his uncommon pallor, due to what I guessed was a prolonged recovery from the poisoning, even his regal crown that sparkled as it caught the sunlight couldn’t detract from her magnificence. His matching white suit only managed to fade in the shadow she cast.

A small retinue followed them. Many of them were guards; most were courtiers. Immediately behind the queen I recognized Braque and Ivar, and Dashiell, who flicked constant glimpses at the king as if he half expected him to drop dead right in front of him.

The queen smiled beatifically at her people, who gushed and murmured their admiration.

My blood simmered even more.

The monarchs climbed separate spiral staircases to either side of the viewing balcony, moving slowly to make a show of it. When the queen finally sat the fuck down, I felt primed to burst, and began to actually look forward to this fight she’d forced me into. I’d picture my opponents wearing her face.

Her entourage settled in their waiting seats behind her as Ivar slid a stool in front of his precious majesty at the base of her throne.

It was a dragon’s head.

My breath struggled, undecided between catching or releasing. Conflicted relief swept through me—it wasn’t Saffron. But it was still a dragon.

The head was massive, that of a full-grown adult, though perhaps one of the smaller breeds, and coated in emerald scales that shimmered in the sunlight—something most spectators would see since the platform had no railing or wall to detract from the sight of her.

“Whatever’s gettin’ to ya now, don’t let it,” the dwarf said. His gaze was set straight ahead as if he weren’t talking to me at all. “Whatever skills fae been sayin’ ya got, you’re still gonna need a lot to go your way if ya plan on walkin’ outta here at the end of the day.”

I bristled but didn’t respond.

“Save it for the fighting. That’s when you’ll need it,” he added.

Not in the mood, I grunted, drawing Rush’s curious stare. He sat on a bench off to the side, surrounded by West, Ryder, and Hiroshi, tenser than I’d seen him recently. When I met his eyes, he offered me a weak yet still friendly smile.

Forgetting I was in Zinnia’s body, I smiled back at him and winked.

He startled, drawing his friends’ notice. I hurried to look away.

“They’ll be gettin’ started now,” the dwarf continued. “A few announcements, the queen’ll give her blessing and all that, and then we’ll fight till we bleed in ‘er honor.”

He was brash, brazen, and unconcerned about whom overheard him. I turned to face him full body.

“What?” he asked. “Ya got your mouth hangin’ open like you seen a dragon.” He chuckled darkly, like a rattling thunderstorm rolling in. “Well, a live one, anyway.” He clicked his tongue and frowned.

“Since I got here, you’re the only one I’ve heard speak his thoughts openly.”

“Ach, not sure ‘bout that. Seems like all the fae at court like to gab till their jaws ‘bout fall off.” He jutted out his own jaw and scratched at his beard. “Though they do pass wind in both directions.”

I barked out a laugh, surprising both myself and those around us. Wiping away the mirth, I rolled my shoulders and neck to keep loose.

Moments later, a half unicorn, half Pegasus—a unisus, I supposed—walked into the arena, clip-clopping all alone, following the same path the queen had across the uneven ground. It walked the wide ridge of a flat-topped mountain range and stopped in the center of the ring to look up at the queen, who nodded.

The unisus cleared its throat in a loud hehehe, sounding much like a horse, then opened its mouth … and sounded nothing like one.

“People and creatures of the fae lands, of Embermere and the Wilds, of all the Mirror World, on behalf of Her Majesty Queen Talisa Zafira Tatiana and His Majesty King Consort Oren Amadeo, I welcome you to our first ever Fae Heir Trials.”

The unisus’ greeting projected loudly in an even, masculine tone. Cheers rose to greet it. Though I looked for signs of it, no one else appeared shocked to hear the creature speak.

His face ended in an elegant, short beard that billowed softly below his mouth. His pelt was a white as pure as the freshly fallen snow I’d lived in year-round in Nightguard. His mane, tail, and wings, currently held flat to his back, were an iridescent rainbow whose exact color I couldn’t quite determine, seeming to change with every tilt of my head. His wings were more like those of a dragonfly than a bird’s, and I couldn’t help but wonder how they held his weight in flight or if they might be merely decorative. His haunches were strong, his flank and legs muscled, his feet draped in fluffy white hair.

I wanted to stare at him all day.

“As you all already know,” the magical faerie creature went on, “the reason necessitating the Fae Heir Trials is a most dastardly and lamentable one. We as a whole have deeply mourned the unexpected and highly unjust passing of our great Prince Heir Saturn. May his memory live among us forever, and may his essence continue its peaceful voyage on to the Etherlands.”

A chorus erupted on all sides of me, and even the taciturn dwarf joined the others in chanting, “May his memory live forever! May his essence voyage to the Etherlands!” The words rang out concisely despite the many numbers calling them out, telling me the saying was a familiar one to everyone but me.

The unisus’ nostrils broadened, and a puff of rainbow light erupted from them in a cloud as he seethed, “And may his murderers be found and delivered to the swiftest of justice. May their heads roll and their blood soak the ground.” He slammed a massive hoof beneath him with so much force that a crack raced down a ravine with the speed of a lightning strike, tearing open the earth in a hand-wide gap.

The call was repeated, but the uniformity was absent now, coming off as a jumble.

The magnificent creature tossed his head—and shimmering mane—and composed himself. “Now, the rules that will govern the Fae Heir Trials follow. Every competitor will fight once and only once per day until disqualified, and only one winner will advance after each match. The winner of each round will be determined by whomever is left standing. Submission is an option, however, and should any party wish to be a coward, they may toss their weapons to the ground and bow before our queen, asking for her merciful acceptance of their surrender. Otherwise, there are no rules for the Gladius Probatio. Every competitor may use whatever advantage and tools they wish to win and advance to the next portion of the tournament.”

My heart stuttered, making me rub absently at my chest while I registered one horrific fact I hadn’t considered before.

Magic.

Everyone else here was surely full-blooded fae and had magic.

I had none.

Why hadn’t anyone mentioned that to me before? Oh, that’s right. Because no one’s looking out for me and it’s a given that everyone has this power that’s such a part of everyday life here in Embermere.

The unisus with the decidedly bad news continued while I rubbed at my chest and the nearly painful panic that was threatening to take over.

“Fifty-five competitors will be participating in the Gladius Probatio. The pairings for the fights of each day will be assigned at random. The winner of day one will advance to day two for another impartially assigned match, and then on we go until only one man’s left standing.”

I scowled, dropping my hands to check my weapons. Could they not even pretend they believed I had a chance, dammit?

“Once the winner of the Gladius Probatio has been determined, the queen and king shall give their blessings, and the Nuptialis Probatio will begin after a three-day rest and recovery period for the fae people.”

A smattering of applause brought on a pause.

“I’ll outline the rules that will govern the Nuptialis Probatio when the time for it arrives, and the same for the Regius Probatio and Magicus Probatio. There shall be a three-day interim immediately following the conclusion of each. By the end of the Fae Heir Trials, there will be just one pair of heirs standing. They will eventually become our new queen and king.”

More clapping.

“Our brave competitors for the Gladius Probatio are—contestants, please join me out in the arena as I call your name—Rush Vega, drake of Amarantos.”

Celebration erupted in the stands as Rush sauntered across the uneven terrain. He wore his confidence like a cloak as he turned to take up his position next to the announcer. Several females shouted out their willingness to bed him and bear his children as he looked on, dignified and stoic.

I wished I were out there already so I could figure out which women made those lecherous offers so I could later punch them in the stomach.

“Hiroshi Asher, drake of Bendisantos.”

Polite applause followed as Hiroshi walked out into the ring.

“Ryder Link, drake of Magiarantos.”

More subdued clapping. No other competitor received the recognition Rush did.

“West Renato, drake of Encarantos.”

On and on went the list. There were multiple representatives from each fae clan. One was clearly the favored, usually the drake, the others were mandrakes, counts, viscounts, scales, and even some hopeful lords.

When the unisus arrived at my supposed clan, I paid close attention. “Lennox Heath, drake of Forzantos.”

From the opposite end of the dugout, surrounded by his cronies, this Lennox pinned a nasty and heated glower on me. Of course he had to be from Forzantos.

“The true heir of Forzantos,” he spat in my general direction before stalking out into the open.

The unisus went on to enumerate an additional five aristos from the clan before adding, “And in an extraordinary show of our great queen’s generous magnanimity, we have Zinnia of Etherantos. She comes to us with no special pedigree to represent the less fortunate commoners among the fae.”

The hooting, hollering, and applause that followed was nearly as thunderous as what Rush had received—though no one offered to bed me.

Hmmmm, might the fae be disgruntled with the precious queen’s heavy-handedness and cruelty? Methinks, yes. My smile that blossomed was genuine. If I could win as the faes’ representative, I could perhaps knock Her Mightiness down a peg or two.

I zoned back into the unisus’ announcements just in time to learn the dwarf’s name.

“And last but certainly not least despite his stature, Roan Drum, count of Potesantos.”

The announcer waited until Roan Drum joined the long lines of us to either side of him before looking at the queen, who once more nodded her approval at him.

The unisus threw back his head and shouted, “The Fae Heir Trials have officially begun! Fighters of the Gladius Probatio, may your ancestors cheer you on from the Etherlands, and may you draw first blood!”

The fae in the stands rose to their feet to celebrate the sentiment, stomping out their thunderous approval. I mimicked my fellow fighters in shifting toward large letters that erupted in the air to either end of the oval-shaped coliseum. With hundreds of twinkling stars, the lights spelled out the order of today’s fights.

In pulsing white I read, Lennox Heath versus Zinnia.

“Yesssss,” Lennox hissed from behind me.

I wouldn’t even need to picture the queen’s face on him to want to bring him down.

28. BLOODLUST AND HEAD GAMES

The uneven terrain of the coliseum smoothed out as dozens of dancers emerged from behind sheets of rushing water to swarm the open ring. They appeared to be fairies, of myriad sizes, slender and lithe, dressed in tight clothing that revealed the curves of their muscles, with gauzy skirts and scarves to sweep behind them—along with diaphanous wings—every time they swayed.

Surging as one, they performed a highly choreographed routine that was as much pulses of movement as it was a series of individual steps. Streamers of brilliant colors trailed behind them much like smoke—another feat of magic, no doubt—at one point making it seem as if they were a mass of writhing serpents slithering out from compact, dense mist, the dancers wrapped and coiled around each other, their limbs entwined.

The audience was enraptured, a constant chorus of oohs and aahs falling from its collective lips. I was impressed as well but fell short of being mesmerized. I couldn’t stop feeling Lennox’s sneer creeping over my body, as if his fingers trailed my skin, reaching for my throat. Every time I caved and jerked a glare his way, I discovered his arrogance wrapped around him like a tight, impenetrable cape.

The desire to rip it off him became a physical need.

I’d get my chance.

After the performance concluded and the dancers disappeared once more behind walls of water, the giant frogs leapt from beside the spheres they guarded, aligned themselves in front of them, and settled in for the matches that were to come.

Next, the announcer trotted back out to the center of the ring and announced the first fight of the day. Again, the unisus’ voice rang out loudly, augmented, I imagined, by yet another enchantment. Nearly every aspect of the event seemed effortlessly governed by more magic than I’d ever seen used at one time—and I’d been raised around dragons.

The first bout was between West and a count of Leantos. West was the clear crowd favorite. The same fae who’d oohed and aahed over the dancers, giving the impression they were a cultured group capable of appreciating the finer points of art, transformed into something else entirely. In brutal fashion, they exposed the darker side of the fae, making me fear they weren’t as different from their queen as I’d hoped.

With cries as violent as the exchanging of blows in the arena below them, they demanded bloodshed. They begged for death. They soaked up the violence as if it were an ambrosia feeding them eternal life.

Unease burrowed beneath my skin. I scratched at it as if it were a physical itch, but no matter what I did, it remained. I’d been warned the competition would be violent. But no one had told me the fae themselves were the ones who demanded it. The frenzied energy of the masses was a dangerous force capable of swaying tides and sweeping everything before them in a crushing wave.

West’s skill as a fighter was immediately apparent. But so was his opponent’s. The ground beneath their boots once more an obstacle field of pitfalls, they skirted across the vast space exchanging strikes and parries with the kind of ease that implied they’d had a sword stuffed into their pudgy grip the very moment they could heft its weight. When the exchanging of clanging blows became too even, West spun, sheathing his blade as he did, and dove in a tumble—while he snatched up a wicked spear from the ground. Its point was sharp and deadly.

In response, the count of Leantos tossed his sword to the ground, where it landed, point wedged up, in a gulley that was deep even in the miniature reproduction, becoming yet another danger they’d have to watch out for. He drew nunchucks, and, in shockingly few whips of them, managed to snag West’s spear and yank it from his grip.

My breath and pulse pounded in a discordant tune.

A few weapons later, West proved to be the better of the two.

He had his opponent flat on his back on the ground, a knee to his chest, a dagger pressed to his throat, drawing a trickle of blood.

The crowd demanded more.

Some chanted “Cut him,” others “Let him live,” and a disturbing majority: “Kill him!”

West looked up into the stands, studying his fellow fae for several moments, long enough that I feared he’d behead an unarmed and already defeated man.

The intoning grew louder, more insistent, and the one call overpowered the others. The spectators had decided. They wanted the count of one of their clans dead.

Rush, Hiroshi, and Ryder’s stares were intent, pinned on their friend. West glanced at them, but not in the direction of the queen.

That single inaction spoke loudly. I suspected West knew that if he looked to the queen for guidance she’d order him to give the crowd what it wanted.

Eventually, West said something to the other man, withdrew his blade, and offered the count a hand up.

Many in the crowd cheered. More booed and jeered.

Regretfully, I added a new concern to my expanding list. Not only did I need to survive, but now I had to find a way not to end the men I defeated.

Killing in self-defense was one thing, murder entirely another.

Five more matches took place before one of Lennox’s buddies succumbed to the pressure of the mob. From my place in the dugout, I couldn’t see the queen. But Lennox’s crony swung around the other man, choking him, and pressing the point of a blade beneath his chin—and sought out the queen.

Whatever she did led him to release his chokehold in the same instant as he dragged the knife across his opponent’s throat. The other man’s eyes had been too big with his struggle. Moments later they dimmed, and even from where I stood many feet away, I noticed the light leaving him as blood pumped down his chest in gushing spurts.

The crowd clapped and stomped its feet in the stands. It sounded like a herd of massive dragons was directly above us.

Though I didn’t look like myself, I sought out Rush. He met my stare immediately, and within the silvery depths of his eyes I found a similar distress to my own.

Panic swelled, thickening my throat, and I wished for Zako to be there with me like I hadn’t since he died. I would have forgiven the man who’d been like a father to me all his lies in exchange for just one piece of calming, lasting advice, for a comforting pat on the back that assured me I wasn’t to face all this madness alone. I would have given nearly anything for one of his rare hugs.

A hand landed on my shoulder, drawing me abruptly out of my longing for Zako, and I jumped away from the touch like a startled rabbit.

It was Rush.

Lennox and his friends laughed heartily while the winner from the ring sauntered over to join them, spattered in the defeated man’s blood.

“Don’t think about them,” came Rush’s voice from behind. It was soothing and even.

I faced him as if he were my salvation, a raft in a stormy sea.

He lowered his voice so others wouldn’t overhear. “Keep focused on your own moves, on anticipating what Lennox will do next. He’ll try to play head games with you. Don’t let him. You know how to fight, you showed me that. Lennox thinks he’ll have your head within the opening minute.”

I gulped. Did he have to remind me what was at stake? How easily my head could roll? If I didn’t stay on my toes, sharp, fast, and responsive, Lennox would swoop in—and he’d show me no mercy.

Rush’s shoulders rose and deflated with a heavy exhale. “Look, you might not come back from this. But you have more of a chance than anyone’s giving you. Lennox is an arrogant asshole. Use that against him. Play into his expectations of you and then attack when he’s least expecting it.”

I nodded, not finding a better response. My throat was dry, my skin still itchy, and I suddenly had to pee when there was no time for that.

I was up next.

Rush squeezed my shoulder for a few seconds before dropping his hand. Even in this foreign body, even through armor, my skin responded to his touch, desiring more of it.

“Fights aren’t won with a sword or spear or even that nasty morning star you’ve got there.” He studied my weapons belt before tapping his temple. “They’re won here. Keep Lennox out of your head, mind your focus, and move like I’ve seen you do, and you can beat him. I know you can, Zinnia.”

“Thanks.” I smiled meagerly when I really felt like throwing my arms around his neck and crushing him to my chest for stoking the flames of my hope.

His responding smile was sexy and beautiful, and akin to the sun parting the clouds. “I’ll see you after your fight. And whatever you do, don’t look at the queen when you have Lennox pinned down.” Eyes on me, he seemed to be expecting me to ask why.

“I won’t.”

He studied me keenly, his stare probably seeing more than I realized, and then nodded at me and backed away just as my fight was called.

Full of swagger, Lennox sauntered out into the arena, doing a little two-step over a diminutive mountain range.

“Give ‘im hellfire, lassie,” Roan croaked from somewhere behind me.

I didn’t even look. I nodded while staring fixedly at Lennox’s retreating form.

I’d trained all my life for this moment. Every frozen early morning and frigid late night of exercises. Each time I’d run up the Nightguard Mountains, my thighs burning as if they were actually on fire. Every moment spent with my blades, stretching and strengthening, learning to control my body and mind. My thoughts and reactions. My emotions.

My fear.

Absolutely every moment of my life before now distilled into this.

Into surviving.

Into saving my friends.

Into victory.

With my thoughts clamped down like a steel trap, I walked out onto the battlefield.

29. HOW QUICKLY THE TIDES TURN

For the first minutes of our duel, Lennox paid attention to the audience’s reactions to his theatrics as much as he did me. Arms wide out to either side, he dodged and danced around my advances, laughing when I missed him, eliciting a similar—yet more raucous—reaction from our observers.

Though I gripped sharp sai daggers in either hand, he didn’t draw against me, silently speaking volumes about what he assumed of my skills with the weapons.

Sufficiently warmed up, I took advantage of his showmanship to allow the panic and thumping nerves to fade into the steady rhythm of my heartbeat, to get used to moving around atop the uneven ground with its shallow depressions. Whatever topography the landscape imitated, it did so at such a vast scale that entire lakes were mere puddles. Navigating the dips and undulations wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared.

When Lennox brought his hands in front of his face and chest in loose fists, weaving and bobbing animatedly, throwing lightning-fast punches my way that I dodged just in time, those in the bleachers howled with amusement.

I tuned it out. My vision narrowed so that all I registered was the conceited buffoon in front of me: his mouth half open in mockery, his brows and eyes dancing in taunting delight; his muscles loose and at the ready despite his performance, their lines strong through his armor.

Continuing to circle around him at the pace he set, I sucked in a deep, long, calming breath. I let it out, just as slowly, just as evenly.

Then I lunged at him, fast enough to test his reactions, but not so quickly that he’d become aware how very real of a threat I was.

My blades didn’t come close to nicking him. Yet his eyes went wide as he yanked his chest out of the way.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, is it?” he asked, loudly enough that those in the lower stands might hear him.

Obviously, I thought. Only a prick like him would make a game out of our fight when the lifeblood of another still darkened the earth beneath our boots.

Before he could zone in to me as I had him, I attacked in a flurry of weaving blades, slashing as I twisted at the waist, pressing forward, pushing him back until he stumbled and hastened to draw his own blades.

Too late.

As he whipped throwing knives in my direction, I dove out of the way, spinning back around him.

I pressed the tip of one blade to the base of his skull, the other to the base of his spine, where I tucked the metal beneath the hem of his shirt. In both places I pushed hard enough to draw blood. It dripped down the shirt of his armor, down the waist of his pants in single, stark lines.

A startled hush claimed the onlookers. I dared not seek out a single one of them, not even Rush.

“You think you can take me down, you fucking cunt?” Lennox snarled at me, this time so no one else could hear.

Without easing the pressure in my blades by so much as a hair, I lowered my lips to his ear. “I’m not a fan of that word, but if it’s gonna be used, then you’re the fucking cunt here, not me.”

I kicked my boot into the back of his knee. He buckled and dropped heavily, his kneecaps cracking atop boulders the size of quail eggs. He groaned in pain.

I sliced at the back of his neck and waist just enough to sting, eliciting a hiss.

“You don’t deserve to win,” he said, his stare rigidly pointed ahead so as not to tempt me to cut him farther. “I’m a rightful drake of the fae clans. You’re no one. You’re nothing. I wouldn’t even deign to piss on you if you were set ablaze and it’d put out the flames. Whatever your suffering, it isn’t enough.”

I struck, biting his earlobe hard enough to draw blood.

He swallowed down his cry of pain while the onlookers gasped, followed by a smattering of applause.

I spat out his blood. “It’s you who isn’t deserving. You don’t deserve my respect, and you sure as shit don’t deserve the throne. You’re not a leader.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A lone shout swept across the stunned audience: “Kill him!”

At that, he visibly clenched.

“Oh, how quickly the tides turn,” I said.

“But … you’re a nobody.”

“That may well be, but at least I’m not the one getting my ass handed to me in plain view of the entire court of Embermere.”

I sensed it before my thoughts caught up to whatever warning I was feeling, and on instinct alone I stepped to the side, jerking away even my blades from his body an instant before he pulsed a band of power dark as night from the length of his spine.

The very instant it was free of his body, I yanked his breastplate away from his chest and plunged a blade up under his ribcage, stopping a single hair from slicing his heart.

The wave of his magic crashed into a waterfall at the end of the coliseum, smashing a hole into the wall large enough for both of us to walk through.

The crowd squealed as guards ran toward the new opening.

Lennox didn’t so much as breathe wrong.

“You can tell how close I am to cutting your heart, can’t you? How death’s already creeping into your veins? How near you are to me silencing your foulness forever?”

His throat bobbed, his skin a beautiful and creamy brown, his features pleasant and alluring, even, when they weren’t contorted with his prejudices. It all seemed wasted on someone like him. How could someone as pretty as he be so fetid inside?

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered so faintly that even with my face close to his I could scarcely make out the words.

“What? I didn’t quite hear you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For … whatever you want me to be sorry for.”

I snorted. “How about for trying to kill me just now with that magic of yours?”

“You were going to kill me first,” he exclaimed before silencing quickly, as if suddenly reminded that these might be his final moments.

I tsked. “I wasn’t going to kill you. I’ve never killed anyone.” Immediately regretting that admission, I hurried on before he could categorize it as a weakness. “If I’d wanted to kill you, I would’ve. I wouldn’t have drawn just a trickle of blood.”

His breathing was stilted around my blade in his chest. “You’ve done more than that now.” He peered down at the metal protruding from beneath his armor.

“Yeah, and that’s on you. You did your best to kill me after mocking me, making everyone think I’m a joke, and I’m just … almost killing you.”

“Then take your knife out.”

I examined him. Real fear glimmered in those rich brown eyes.

“I would, Lennox, but you’re truly a shit person, and you and I both know it.”

Ignoring Rush’s advice, I sought out the queen.

She was already looking at me. Even from down where I was, I could make out the simmering rage in those sky-blue eyes. Beside and slightly behind her, the king was even more pasty than before, his complexion wan.

With a displeased tilt to her lips, she nodded at me.

It was the kill order, and those in the audience who could see her recognized it as such. They picked up the call, “Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.”

I returned my attention to Lennox. A trail of sweat dripped across one sideburn, where it tangled in the short hairs to dwindle to nothing.

“You don’t have to kill me,” he beseeched. “I’ll change.”

“No, you won’t.”

He glared up at me, his eyes blazing as anger replaced the fear. “Then kill me already and be done with it.” He sneered, his upper lip curling. “At least then I won’t have to look at your ugly fucking pig face anymore. You’re no one. Even if you kill me, everyone will forget who you are by tomorrow.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m the faes’ champion. They just don’t know it yet.”

I slid the blade slightly to the right—in the wrong direction to puncture his heart, but he didn’t seem to realize that. He sucked in a breath and held it.

“May your essence bypass the Etherlands and burn by dragon fire for all eternity.” Then I slid out my blade.

He was gaping and gawping—probably trying to decide whether I’d just killed him or not—when I pushed him forward. He fell onto his face, not even bringing his hands out to catch his fall.

Confused commotion spread across the stands with the speed of the dragon fire I’d just invoked, while everyone tried to figure out whether I’d indeed killed the man. He surely deserved that end far more than the man who died here today.

Not feeling like I’d won anything, I cleaned my blades on Lennox’s pants and stalked toward the fighter area. Before I disappeared from view, I glanced up at the viewing stand and the royals who occupied it.

The queen’s eyes were as hard as her jaw, and her jaw looked like it could hew granite.

I smiled up at her. Her eyes narrowed. Don’t like to be disobeyed, do you?

The king looked like he was about to have a heart attack. Even from a couple of stories below him I could tell he was sweating. Dashiell hovered around him like a nervous hummingbird.

When I dipped into the dugout, Roan grunted at me. “D’ya kill ‘im, lassie?”

I debated whether to answer. He’d see soon enough for himself. Lennox would overcome his shock and find his feet. But Rush’s eyes were on me, as were those of West, Ryder, and Hiroshi.

Looking straight at Rush, I replied, “I didn’t. But a part of me wishes I had.”

When attendants ran out into the ring to aid Lennox, his friends didn’t move to help them, as if concerned about being associated with his humiliating defeat.

The aides did some swirly movements with their fingers, and Lennox, who’d rolled to lie flat on his back, rose into the air. His body hovered, his hair trailing beneath him, as the healers guided him through a wall of water and out of sight.

I sank heavily onto a bench, feeling as if I’d fought an ogre and only won by the skin of my teeth.

30. TWO CAN PLAY THIS GAME

As the day of Gladius Probatio matches wore on, dread settled deeper and more heavily in my gut. By dinnertime, when Pru insisted I must attend the festivities in the Hall of Mirrors or the queen would have my head, the apprehension felt like a stone the size of a bread loaf, leaving me no appetite—not for the fancy food or drink, and especially not for the frenzied gossip that tumbled from courtiers’ brightly painted lips, reminding me of the constant buzzing of bees or the hissing of snakes, depending on who the speaker was.

The day had been … eventful. After my win, the spectators became agitated. Roughly, they could be divided into two groups. They were either beside themselves with excitement that both a “commoner,” and a female at that, could defeat one of the court’s champions, or they were possessed by a mixture of the opposing emotions: disgust, disappointment, ire, and most alarmingly, a determination to right what they viewed as an upset to the natural order of things.

No one had to warn me to watch my back. My adversaries were no longer limited to those who fought me openly in the tournament.

Perhaps in response to the crowd’s growing unrest, the Gladius Probatio bouts became more violent and gruesome. A competitor lost a hand first, then another his head. The amputation appeared to be an accident, two fighters going at each other without restraint. But the beheading? That had been one of Lennox’s allies, and he’d done the deed in response to the queen’s nod of doom. He’d swiped off the loser’s head when the man was on his knees and no longer a threat.

Watching that head roll across the miniature rugged terrain, its long hair truncated by the blade, had stunned and disturbed me. The insides of the dead man’s neck, a gory mess of dark red tissue and bright cords, looked like vines. His features had frozen open in horrified acceptance.

The uproar from the crowd that followed was more celebration than anything else, though there could be no denying the accompanying bloodlust. Rush and his friends at least appeared sickened as well.

But what really sent the spectators into a tizzy happened after Rush, Ryder, and Hiroshi all won their fights—sans limb removal. A visdrake from the fae clan of Magiarantos, who’d defeated his opponent to advance to tomorrow’s round of the competition, standing in the middle of the arena a victor…

Drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and let it fly⁠—

Directly up at the queen in her viewing balcony.

He would have hit his target too if it hadn’t been for Ivar, who reacted as fast as any seasoned warrior or guard could have hoped to, diving in front of his monarch⁠—

And taking the arrow meant for her.

Before the astonished audience could tell whether Ivar lived or died, royal guards swarmed the queen and whisked her away, not even a hint of her bejeweled crown peeking from among them.

A couple of guards stationed around the king in his forest-green colors stood closer to him, attempting to protect him with their brawn, but it took an entire eight minutes before sufficient men returned to the balcony to escort him out—presumably after the queen had already been delivered to safety.

If the kingdom of Embermere didn’t recognize the disparity between its rulers, it should have then. It was, in truth, a queendom.

The entourage also scattered until Braque, Finnian, and Sandor alone remained in the balcony, huddled around Ivar. Much as he’d done with me, Finnian broke the arrow in half, eliciting a cry of pain from Ivar that signaled to all of us that he was alive, and then removed one piece of the arrow from his back, the other through his chest.

With the setup of the platform, nothing was hidden from those of us in the ring. When Rush, Ryder, Hiroshi, West, and Roan rushed into the arena to tackle the assassin to the ground, I followed. I wasn’t interested in apprehending a man who’d had the balls to do what I’d been dreaming of. No, I went to watch. To search for opportunities, for weaknesses. And because I’d hoped the assassin’s aim had been true.

Regardless of the fact that it was becoming more and more evident by the day that the fae clans weren’t pleased with her reign, the outer lands suffered while the palace and its pristine grounds flourished, the queen showed up for the party that evening—she had balls too. It was supposed to celebrate the completion of the opening day of the Fae Heir Trials. Ivar was notably absent, but the king was at her side, his eyes both troubled and vacuous. When I attempted to meet them, he didn’t even seem to notice.

The lavish trays of meats, nuts, cheeses, fruits, chocolates, pastries, and other unknown delicacies alone could have fed the poor in the outskirts of Embermere for an entire month. Wine and juices flowed in literal fountains, proving the queen wasn’t concerned with waste—or her people.

After weeks here, I was finally beginning to understand. Discontent rippled beneath the carefully polished surface the queen displayed for her public.

When Pru popped up in my bedchamber after the party to help me prepare for sleep, I grilled her about Xeno and Saffron. She still didn’t know much. I was left to presume they were prisoner in Embermere somewhere, and that they still lived.

It was more urgent than ever that I get them out of there. The Royal Court was unstable, like a house of cards stacked perilously high, moments from toppling down and raining chaos on everyone in its path.

I flopped onto my back, once more losing sleep to an endless loop of concerns that weren’t serving me better than sleep would. My muscles were sore from the tension of the fight. I had bruises where Lennox had landed a few blows—proof that what happened to me in Zinnia’s body transferred over to my real form. But of course I should have already been certain of that. The queen was forcing me into the ring as Zinnia for no other reason than hoping I’d die. It would spare her from revealing that the “Lady Elowyn” wasn’t actually a distant relative of the king who could leave the palace and fade into obscurity and from memory, but actually his bastard child, the true heir to the throne, without need for the trials and all their artifice and violence.

I rolled onto my stomach and slipped my arm under my pillow. Groggy, I accidentally smacked the handle of my dagger. It slid across the silky sheets as if it were gliding over ice—and flew onto the floor, smacking the rug beside my bed with a loud thud.

I groaned, then remembered that Rush was, as usual, sleeping in the single bed wedged beside the open door between our chambers.

“Rush, it’s o—” Too late. He was already there, leaning over my bed, sword in hand. “Okay,” I finished lamely.

Flicking only a hurried glimpse at me, he stationed himself at my bedside, an imposing figure of muscle and brawn, scanning the dark room for the intruder.

“Careful—” I started.

“Where? Where is he?”

I barely managed to keep myself from rolling my eyes. If there were an assassin in my room here to kill me, they could very well be a woman. If I could get away with it without bringing about harm to anyone else, I’d kill the queen in a heartbeat.

“What I was trying to say,” I started, then the twirling scrolls and vines that wrapped Rush’s exposed torso began to glow, and I couldn’t stop myself from staring. “Wow. They’re pretty.”

Rush flicked a look at me over his shoulder while keeping his sword aloft, ready for an attack.

“Your tattoos,” I clarified.

Thanks to the soft light of whatever magic danced across his tanned skin, I could make out the scrunching of his brows.

I scooted toward the edge of the bed, reaching a hand toward him. “I’m safe. We’re safe. No one else is here.”

He looked from me again toward the rest of the room, especially the darkest corners. “Then what was that noise?”

After a moment’s hesitation, I rested my fingers on his side. A shiver rolled through me at the touch of his skin. He slept in nothing but shorts that exposed most of his thighs.

“Rush, it’s okay. I promise. I dropped my dagger onto the floor, that’s all.”

His muscles relaxed, losing some of their tension. I studied their ridges intently. You know, to make sure he was all right and not unduly stressed on my account.

After studying the dim chamber for a full sixty seconds and sensing no movement, he finally faced me. “You’re sure?”

“Completely.”

He dropped his sword to his side, where he allowed it to hang loosely. His moonlight hair hung full and loose down his back, those matching silver eyes alert despite the hour.

Dressed in his fighting armor, Rush was freaking glorious. Mostly naked, he was even more so.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” I said softly. “It was an accident.”

He placed his sword on my bedside table and bent to retrieve my dagger, which had slid beneath it. I leaned my head over the side to catch the working of his leg muscles and found my attention snagging on the protrusion in his briefs. For an entire heartbeat I had a great view of his backside and his impressive meaty-ness.

My throat went dry even as I began to salivate. I blamed my unreasonable reaction on my romantic inexperience.

He rose to place my dagger next to his sword, and I jerked my head back onto my pillow, went rigid as a board, and folded my hands over my stomach as if I were perhaps dead … when every nerve ending in my body was coming alive.

I released a gush of air and only then realized I’d been holding my breath … and that Rush was looking down at me appearing … amused?

His eyes twinkled beneath his shadowed brow, which waggled. One side of his full lips quirked into a lopsided smile. Yep, amused.

“What?” I barked, crossing my legs at the ankles beneath the sheets in one direction, then immediately reversing them to go the other way.

He didn’t answer until I looked him in the face again.

“You’re very … interesting, you know that?” he said.

I scowled. “I’m not ‘interesting.’ Okay, never mind, I totally am interesting, but I’m also intriguing and alluring and intelligent and … and pretty, according to you!” I also sounded like an idiot rambling on the way I was, sputtering nonsense. One hint of what he was packing and I apparently turned into a blubbering moron.

Zako shouldn’t have insisted I remain a maiden! Somewhere along the line, the curiosity and desire that ate away at me had become a weakness capable of throwing me off my game just as it was doing now.

There were so many dragon shifters who would have bedded me if I’d wanted, Xeno prime among them. Then I wouldn’t find myself here, drooling over the darkly twisted queen’s number one spy.

I latched on to that reminder as if it were my eluding sanity.

Rush is spying on me. No matter what he says, he’ll kill me in the ring if I give him the chance. The queen will order him to. He’s the enemy. The enemy! Do you hear me, Elowyn?

Rush leaned over the bed to inspect me. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seem … flushed … or something.”

His hair slid around his broad shoulders to frame his gorgeous face, to tease across his pecs; his lips puckered while he considered me; scruff darkened his square jaw…

Alarm, alarm, alarm! He’s the enemy. He’s a spy for the putrid queen!

“I’m fine,” I squeaked up at him. “I was just thinking … I was, um, thinking, ah, that you should get in bed with me right now.”

He yanked his head back, his forehead scrunching like the pretty flowered fan Dowager Countess Dayana had haughtily waved in front of her painted mug all damn evening.

“You want me to … climb into bed with you?” he clarified.

I tsked and waved a hand frantically in the air between us. “Not like that, you dirty minded man. Just because…” Yeah, Elowyn, how exactly did you mean it? “Because … you need your sleep and you can’t be getting up all night long to check on me. You’ll need all your focus to be ready to fight tomorrow. That starts with a great night’s sleep.”

He snorted and dragged his eyes up and down my body. Even though most of it was covered by bedding, I felt my chest blush. “Yeah, well, I gave up on this legendary ‘great night’ of sleep when I was ordered to guard you.” His gaze came to rest on my mouth. “You don’t make anything easy.”

I harrumphed and slid up to rest my back against the headboard. “And why should I make anything easy for you or anyone else here at the palace? For dragonfire, I’ve been—” abducted, and I’m being held against my will, forced to fight and ordered even to kill! But the rest of what I had to say made me sound like the dolphins in The Sirens of Loch Plume.

Regardless, comprehension enlarged his eyes. He was smart enough to put it all together with what I’d already managed to tell him before and despite Braque’s spell. At least, he should be sharp enough to piece together what was going on.

I uncrossed my arms and stared up at him. “Look. Rush. You need your sleep. I need my sleep. And this bed’s big enough for the both of us to be in without even touching. What’s the big deal?”

“It’s not appropriate.” But his eyes heated, doing their best to blaze a hole into the other side of my skull. Or perhaps to burn the clothing right off my body.

I flushed all over again. “Who says it’s not appropriate?”

“The entire court would if they knew. Certainly the queen and king, who ordered me to guard you, wouldn’t approve.” He lowered his voice though no one was there to overhear us. “For fuck’s sake, Elowyn, you’re the king’s daughter. His daughter. Can you imagine what he’d do to me if he found out I slept with you?”

I scoffed. “I don’t imagine he’d do much of anything. I hardly ever see him, and that’s with me trying. I’ve been doing everything I can think of to get to him, and no one, you included, will let me. I still have no idea who my mother is, dammit. Don’t I deserve to know?” The queen had been running highly effective interference since my visit to the king’s bedside that she cut short.

I sighed heavily. “Come on, Rush. We’ll just be sleeping. Sleeping, nothing more. It’s not like you’re going to take my virginity and then steal away in the night with it.”

The moment the admission slipped from my lips, I wished I could reel it back in and swallow it, and if not that, swallow my tongue and spare myself from the humiliation. Why had I said that? There was no need, and yet … it had tumbled out just the same.

My cheeks were hot enough that they might burst into flame, but I pretended not to notice. Maybe if I played it cool he wouldn’t recognize that I’d just told him something so personal and private that the last person who should know it was the queen’s freaking agent!

I heard awkward laughter ring in the suddenly still air, and it took me an entire cycle of breath to realize I was the one trilling like a stupid lunatic.

Gingerly, he sat on the bed. My frantic thoughts couldn’t decide whether to panic or to focus on the fact that the only thing separating his naked wand of manhood from my sheets was a thin layer of fabric, so my mind raced in both directions simultaneously.

He placed what was meant to be a calming hand on my shoulder, but it only set my heart thumping more.

“You look…” he started, then stopped. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Of course I am,” I answered too quickly and too high-pitched. You’re a skilled warrior, for sunshine’s sake. Get yourself together, El.

He chuckled—he actually laughed at me. “You don’t look okay.”

“Oh, yeah? Nice thing to say to a lady after she just admitted to you she’s never had sex before. I told you”—because I’ve lost control of my mouth and it’s going all on its own, paying me back for all the times I forced it to say nice things I didn’t mean—“because you’re supposed to guard me, and that means protecting me in all ways, which means you need to know everything important about me.”

I slammed my mouth shut just to halt the verbal vomit.

His features softened as he squeezed the hand that still rested on my shoulder, doing its best to burn straight through the thin cotton of my nightgown. “I can do my job without knowing such deeply personal things about you.” I opened my mouth. “But I’m glad you told me. It’s nice to learn more about you. I must admit, I’ve been … intensely curious about you since I first laid eyes on you. I’ve never met anyone else quite like you.”

I snorted, most unladylike, then shook my head at myself. “I’ll bet.”

He threw his head back, a deep, joyful rumble of laughter spilling out of him. When he was finished, he studied me, still grinning. “Oh, Elowyn. I do like you. It’s so refreshing to have someone actually speak their mind around here, where everyone else treats life like a game, every move to be weighed and considered first.”

I shrugged off his hand and crossed my arms over my chest. “So glad to be ‘refreshing.’” I didn’t realize my arms were pressing up my breasts until his stare landed on them—and stayed.

Subtly, I lifted my arms, which shoved my boobs farther up.

He licked his lips, and I didn’t even think he noticed he did it.

“I’m up here, Rush.”

He snapped his gaze to mine fast enough to get a pop out of his neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Save it. This is all about us getting rest—nothing more—you especially, since you’re the fighter here.” I frowned. I despised keeping my true identity secret, especially from him. “All I’m suggesting is that you sleep next to me so you’ll be right here if I need you. And since apparently assassination attempts are a regular thing, it’s probably the only way you’ll get a sound night’s sleep.”

“I could sleep on the floor next to you…”

“You could, and you might end up with a sore back, right when you need it least.” I adjusted to better face him. “I’m pretty sure my maidenhood’s safe sleeping in the same bed as you.”

He nodded absently. “Do you…?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you … want more?”

“More what?”

He shrugged and considered me from under dark lashes. “You know.”

“No, I don’t know. You’ll have to explain it to me.”

“Do you want to, I don’t know, become, ah…” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. “Romantic with me?”

It was my turn to laugh. “Thanks for spelling it out for me. I really wasn’t getting it,” I deadpanned.

His jaw dropped open, and he pushed me playfully. I fell back against the bed, still laughing. From where I lay, I said, “Hey, two can play this game.”

Before I was ready for it, his face appeared over mine, his arms caging me in on either side.

My breathing became shallow as I barely dared move.

“Are you sure you want to play with me?” he asked, his voice a grumbling purr of seduction I’d never heard before. It made me squirm, though I tried to be discreet about it after, and probably failed miserably based on how his smile stretched like a sneakle who’d snagged a pastry without being caught.

“Nope, no games,” I wheezed. “Just sleep. Only sleep.”

If Rush offered to take my virginity, at this rate I’d probably self-combust and save us both the awkwardness.

He chuckled but this time didn’t look away, his mirth rolling through his chest, so close to mine, that I felt it. “Then move over, pretty Elowyn. Let’s get some sleep.”

31. THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Once Rush settled onto the bed beside me—his sword within easy reach on the table next to him, my dagger back beneath my pillow—I decided it was my worst idea yet. No part of his body came close to touching mine in the huge bed, but I was practically vibrating off the mattress. He was so close, so warm, and so incredibly beautiful.

The forbidden fruit was within reach, and I wanted to taste it more than I could remember ever wanting anything. I wanted to bite into him and let the juices run down my chin with abandon, as if he were a perfectly ripe, wonderfully succulent mango straight off the tree like I’d had as a rare treat on my visits to Crestshine Lake with Zako.

I was drawn to Rush in a way that transcended the many cautionary reminders of his allegiance to the queen and all that might mean to me and those who were relying on me to get them out of Embermere alive. I was cursing myself for inviting him into my bed—after all, he wasn’t the only one who needed rest to be at their best for tomorrow’s fight.

But then his breathing grew deep and steady like a metronome, or perhaps like the lullabies the sirens of Loch Plume sang to their babes, the steady sound lulled me into the deepest sleep I’d had since my abduction and imprisonment at the palace…

Until I awoke sometime later, disoriented in the continuing night but cozy and warm … wrapped up in his body.

As I came to alertness and registered our positions, I went rigid, all previous ease vanishing. My head rested on his outstretched arm, the other wrapped around my waist, his large hand cupping a breast. In his sleep, he’d even slipped a leg between mine. My ankle-length nightgown was hiked up, exposing my thighs.

I didn’t dare so much as twitch for fear of waking him, though I wasn’t sure what I was most concerned about: him realizing we were entangled like lovers … or him withdrawing his touch. This closeness was something I’d never had, and I understood with sudden intensity that I wanted it with desperation.

And yet … it couldn’t be with him.

I should wake him and throw his body off mine. I should run as far away from him as I could get.

My traitorous body had a mind of its own, however. Before I could get a handle on my instincts, I found myself nestling farther into his hold, tilting my face in his direction so that the steadiness of his breath fluttered the hair around my face, so that his lush, extremely kissable lips were close enough that if I wanted to … I could press mine to his. I wondered what he tasted like. It wouldn’t be mango, but surely it was something infinitely better.

“Mmmmm,” he moaned, rubbed his cheek atop his pillow, and squeezed my breast. Then he pressed a soft kiss to my brow⁠—

Before his eyes flew open. “Elowyn,” he breathed.

It would have been too dim to make out their swirling moonlit depths if not for how his tattoos warmed and glowed, softly illuminating his face.

My mouth stretched into an unexpected smile as I took in the conflicting emotions whirling across his gaze.

A conflict so much like my own.

Our mouths were inches apart.

I faced him fully and slid the rest of the way toward him, until I dislodged his hand from my breast only to press both swells against his chest. His thigh touched the thin cotton of my underwear, an unworthy barrier between him and my center, and I tightened my legs around his, telling him silently that I didn’t want him to retreat.

That I wanted him.

Tentative, reaching for a boldness I wanted desperately to have but wasn’t sure could actually be mine, I inched my mouth toward his.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his question a whisper too gentle to interrupt if this were a dream.

No. By dragonfire, no.

My smile wavered, but I was unwilling to trust my voice.

He crushed his lips to mine with an intensity that stole my breath, merged it with his, and pulled me under into a sensation akin to a dream, where I was a woman who could do whatever she wanted, with whomever she wanted—where no one depended on me for anything important and I didn’t need to battle daily for survival.

His hands ran up and down my back—squeezing, touching, apparently doing his best to consume me—along my butt, my thighs, and then up into my hair, where his fingers tangled and tugged.

I groaned, which seemed only to inflame him more.

His fingers strong against my scalp, he pulled my mouth against his so that we shared every breath. His lips were soft, full, and devouring.

And I wanted more.

When his tongue slipped between his lips to part mine, I all too readily invited him in. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him back as if I intended to consume him.

I was groaning, moaning, and panting, pulling him against me with the realization of how easily he and I could become one.

Certainty settled into me, weightless. I needed him inside me. To set my virginity ablaze, and I wanted him to be the one to light the match. Though I’d never done something like this before, never been this close to a man, I ground my hot center against his thigh. A guttural moan escaped from between our lips that caused him to respond in kind.

His kiss became even more fevered, more ferocious, more … voracious. His hands tugged on my hair, dug into my back, and squeezed my ass hard enough to make me squeal as he yanked my core against his thigh as if he were actually thrusting inside me.

“More,” I begged on a ragged breath.

He growled and devoured my mouth, lapping up my kisses, sucking on my tongue.

When that still wasn’t enough, he grumbled like a vicious dragon, slid his leg out from between mine, and slung it around my hips instead.

Suddenly, his erection pushed against me, eliciting a moan more wanton from me than I’d known myself capable of. He spun me flat onto my back and leaned his arms to either side of my head, caging me beneath him. As he kissed me more, robbing me of my sanity, or perhaps finally gifting me with it, he settled his legs between mine.

When he pressed his shaft against my pulsing heat, I groaned loudly enough that if the walls truly had ears, they’d be perking up and paying attention. Whatever’s going on there is goooo-oood.

When he ground the length of his dick against me, I wrapped my legs around his hips, allowing my nightgown to slide down to my waist, slapped my hands to his ass, and tugged him against me.

He growled, a long, sinful grumble that made me want him with an intense madness I’d never experienced before.

“Rush, please,” I whimpered. If I died with him filling me, I’d die happy, unconcerned by the queen and her endlessly cruel machinations.

But my request made him still. He held himself up, his biceps bulging from the effort of holding his weight above me.

“What are you waiting for?” I croaked, pulling his ass toward me again.

He resisted.

I allowed my hands to drop to my sides in exasperation, bouncing against the mattress. “What?”

“This isn’t … this isn’t right.”

“Why not?” Unreasonable anger filled me at his sudden prudence. “Because you’re freaking watching my every move for the queen?”

His jaw tightened, and he pulled his face farther away from mine. I instantly wanted to retract my words but didn’t.

“No, that’s not what I was thinking,” he eventually said.

“Then what?” I arched my hips so that we were again perfectly lined up, rubbing my wetness against the stiffy doing its best to pop out of his briefs. “You obviously want me.”

He tsked, annoyed. “Of course I want you. I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you. I’d be an idiot not to.”

“Then why are you being an idiot right now?”

“Because you’re a virgin.”

Abrupt tension rolled through me, like a stream of dragon fire, only it cooled me. Hard as the rock of a mountain, I gritted out, “So?”

“So … your innocence is something precious. Losing it should be something special. Your first time should be slow and amazing and…”

“And what?” I grunted, irked beyond reason to have my maidenhood referred to as “innocence.” I wasn’t innocent. I just hadn’t had a dick inside me yet!

He began to pull away from me, and as much as a part of me wanted to tug him against me and keep him there forever—or at least until he gave me what I wanted—the greater part of me refused to do anything to stop him.

He lay on his side and pulled me against him.

I tensed.

He rose onto an elbow, cradling his head. His eyes were serious when they met mine. “Your first time should be with someone you love.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide what my ‘first time’ should be like?”

“Of course, but I’m part of this too, and I have to feel right about what I’m doing.”

“Oh, because you feel awesome about spying on me, huh?”

His eyes hardened, and his tattoos flared, lighting up with the luminosity of a crescent moon for several moments before muting. “I don’t feel good about that. And if you think I would, you don’t know me at all. More reason not to do this.”

He sank onto his back and I instantly missed his closeness.

I made myself soften my tone, though the stubborn, proud part of me didn’t want to. “‘This?’ Rush, I want to do this. I want to feel you inside me.”

For several beats, he was silent. Then, “You bring this up about me spying, but you have no idea what it’s like. It’s bad enough I have to do it. I can’t take advantage of you on top of it all.”

I chortled. “Um, pretty sure you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. I thought I made myself overly clear as to what I want.”

“What you think you want,” he corrected.

“And what about what you want? If you want me, why can’t you let yourself have me?”

“My life hasn’t been about what I want for a very long time.”

My heart squeezed, and I dragged a hand across my nightgown, pulling it partially down my legs. “Why do you spy on me?” I asked gently.

“Because I have to.”

I waited for more of an explanation before realizing I’d receive none. “Tell me, what does the queen have on you?”

There was a long beat of quiet during which the first of the birds greeted the predawn beyond my windows.

“Something I can never, ever betray,” he finally replied.

“So you’ll just betray me?” I asked in a whisper.

“I’ll do what I must.”

We lay there without another word while our bodies cooled, and reason overcame passion. Until he again pulled me against him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and snuggling me to his chest. “I’m sorry, Elowyn. Truly, I am.”

“It’s okay,” I said, though it wasn’t what I thought at all.

“Let’s get some sleep. Dawn will be here soon, and I have to fight.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “So do I.”

Only he interpreted it to mean in general, as a lady of the court.

He patted my shoulder. “It won’t always be this way.”

“That a promise?”

He sighed heavily. “No.”

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

Then, for no better reason than I wanted whatever this was to come to an end, I made myself go to sleep, and for once, my mind and body obeyed.

32. THE FORTUNE OF DRAGONS

Something shook me. Groggily, I ordered myself to open my eyes but nothing happened. I was too comfortable to wake up.

“Mistress. Mistress, it’s time to get up.”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” I mumbled in the general direction of the speaker, tucking myself farther into the heat of my bed.

“Mistress.” The address was sharper, more urgent. “You’ve got to get moving or it’ll be off with our heads.”

I peeked open one eye, stared straight up into Pru’s knobby face, and yelped … waking the man at my side.

He pulled me closer so that my head leaned against his chest and shoulder. They were smooth, hard, and warm.

Rush.

It all came back to me in a barreling wave. The combustible heat between us. The feel of his scorching skin beneath my fingertips. And how he’d pulled back when I’d practically begged him to keep going, claiming protection of my “innocence.”

At that fresh reminder, I attempted to pull away from him, but his hold only tightened.

“Not yet,” he murmured.

“Yes, yet,” said the bossy goblin who’d responded to my shriek of alarm by invading my personal space even more. Her face framed the entirety of my view when I looked up, meaning she was getting an eyeful of mostly naked man.

“Pru,” I started, alertness arriving swiftly now. “Can’t you see I could use a little privacy?”

“No, I don’t see that. I do see two people who should know better though.”

I groaned, and not how I had just a few hours before. “Not you too.”

“Oh? So the drake showed some good sense.”

“Of course I did,” Rush said without opening his eyes.

Pru snorted her disbelief. “You’re supposed to be guarding her, yet here I am, close enough to have a poisoned blade at her throat, and you without any way to stop me.”

Now Rush looked at her. “I heard your large feet coming up the tunnel before you even pushed open the panel in the wall. I heard you spotting us together in bed, muttering under your breath some words I’ll not repeat for Elowyn’s sake, then you pattering across the floor to wake her. You stood at the side of the bed for a good thirty seconds staring at us before you reached for her.”

Pru didn’t respond, making me think he’d described her actions precisely.

“If I’d wanted to have a blade at your throat, I could have done so before you figured out what was happening.”

Pru harrumphed. “Her Majesty will be most displeased if she learns⁠—”

I pushed up onto my elbows, my hair, allowed to be loose in the privacy of my chambers, scrawling across his shoulder. “The queen isn’t going to learn a thing. You understand me, Pru? You don’t tell her anything about this. Nothing.”

“I’ll have to tell her if she asks, or she’ll have my head.”

“She won’t ask. So you don’t offer up any information, okay?”

Pru stepped back and went over to open the curtains, allowing in streams of early morning light.

“Pru…” I pressed.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I won’t say a thing unless Her Majesty asks me.”

“Unless she asks you directly,” I amended.

“Right.” But Pru was now busying herself fluffing cushions on the chaise.

“I’m serious, Pru.”

“Not serious enough,” she said as she threw open the doors to the armoire, pulling open drawers as she grabbed my undergarments.

Rush pushed up onto an arm and studied me. “I must go.”

Half of me wanted to look away, the other half to climb on top of him. I forced myself to meet his steady stare. “I know.”

“Will you come by to wish me the fortune of dragons before my match today?”

“Uh, the dragons haven’t had much good fortune here.”

He shrugged. “It’s just an old saying. Will you come by then? You didn’t yesterday…”

I grinned coyly. “Were you looking for me?”

His lips quirked into a timid smile. “Of course I was.”

My responding smile was sad, resigned. “I’d love to come by to wish you good luck before your fight, but perhaps I should do so here.”

“And why not there?”

“It can get hectic before the event, and I wouldn’t want you to miss seeing me.” When I’m in the wrong body.

“I could never miss seeing you. Your beauty draws my eye from clear across a room.” Said eyes twinkled.

Delight swept the length of my spine. “Good. So then I shouldn’t be there to distract you.” His mouth already open to protest, I hurried to say, “Now, I have no doubt you’ll kick some major opponent ass out there today, so you don’t need luck, but I wish you the very best of fortune anyway. And speaking of asses, get yours out of this bed. It’s time to get moving.”

“Yes, milady,” he said, pressing a quick peck to my lips.

The soft touch of his mouth against mine was enough to tease me, to remind me of all I wanted and couldn’t have.

I sat up to watch as he, unabashedly, grabbed his sword and sauntered across the room in just his briefs through the open door to the antechamber and out of sight.

I was still staring at the now empty threshold when Pru appeared at my side and hissed under her breath: “Mistress should stop mooning. There’s no time for it. Not today. Not with the upcoming fight.”

It was the reminder I needed. Nodding roughly, I stepped out of bed and toward the bathing room.

Speaking softly, Pru followed. “Her Majesty didn’t like how Mistress refused her order to dispatch with Drake Lennox yesterday.”

A weight tightened my chest. Mid-step, I spun around to look down at her. “Are Xeno and Saffron still safe?”

“As far as I know. I’ve heard no news.”

The weight lightened slightly. “No news is good news, right?”

“In this case, definitely. But if Mistress wins again today⁠—”

Once more, I stuttered to a halt to stare at her. “If? Where’s your allegiance, Pru?”

“To the monarch who decides whether my head stays attached to my body or not.”

“Fair enough,” I grumbled, reaching the bathing chamber and waiting while Pru adjusted the water temperature.

“Mistress should remember where Drake Rush’s allegiances lie too.” She stared at me meaningfully.

“I know. Not with me.”

“That’s right. Not with you, even if he does share your bed.”

I began to explain myself, decided I had no reason to, and remained silent instead. Then, “What does the queen have on him?”

“I don’t know, Mistress, but whatever it is, it’s big.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I grumbled.

“Mistress has eye crusties.”

I gasped, eyes wide enough to match her large ones. “And Rush saw me like this?” I groaned, mortified.

“He didn’t seem to mind.” Pru busied herself adding fresh flower petals to my bathwater; they were a lovely periwinkle blue. With her back to me, she said with a chuckle: “Besides, I was just kidding.”

Mouth hanging fully open, I gaped at her while blinking wildly. “Oh. You. Did. Not.”

“I did,” she said, too content with herself. “Mistress is teaching Pru many things.”

“Isn’t that just dandy?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“I was being sarcastic,” I said darkly.

“I wasn’t.” Pru turned and beamed up at me, hands clasped in front of her.

I couldn’t help but laugh at how pleased she was with herself. “Pru, I might just make a friend out of you after all.” I stripped off my nightgown and placed it in her waiting hand.

She blinked furiously, tucked her head down demurely, and barely breathed, “A friend … I’ve never had one of those before.”

“Then it’s about time.”

When I stepped into the water I shifted my thoughts away from Pru, away from the infuriatingly gorgeous spy-man I couldn’t seem to keep my grubby hands and lady parts from reaching for, to the day ahead. If I was going to make it to the night, I had to have every one of my wits about me.

In the ring—and at court—there were no rules and nothing prohibited. Everyone fought dirty.

It was high time I did the same.

33. A MESSAGE RECEIVED, A MESSAGE DELIVERED

Since the Gladius Probatio had begun with an uneven number of contestants, the second day of fighting opened with the final match of the first bracket. It set a grim tone for the remaining matches scheduled for the day. Though it had been completely unnecessary, the man defenseless and on his knees, the queen had ordered the loser of the bout beheaded. The same of Lennox’s friends who’d slit his opponent’s throat the day before—an asshole by the name of Junius, I’d learned—had carried out the queen’s command without hesitation. The unlucky man’s head didn’t come off with the first attempt. But three arcing strikes later the detached head had thudded to the ground, the dead man’s body falling on top of it.

The crowd that had been so bloodthirsty and vocal about its desire for violence the day before hadn’t reacted the same way to the queen’s blatant abuse of power. There’d been shocked cries of alarm and aghast mutterings. Very few celebrated the gory spectacle.

Perhaps those who’d traveled far and wide, from the outskirts of Embermere and its neighboring fae clans, some possibly even from the Wilds beyond, had been unaware just how cold and uncaring their queen was. I now better understood why the queen had so easily agreed that her husband’s secret bastard child should compete in the fighting portion of the trials, which no other female, drakess or otherwise, entered.

In her mind, there was no chance I’d ever become a successor to her throne.

Before I could fully recover from the shock of more death, of seeing Lennox, who though disqualified was in the dugout, celebrate his friend as if the victory had been the great and honorable feat of a distinguished warrior, the unisus announced the second round of fighting was to begin momentarily. My name flashed alongside the other unlucky sods who’d be fighting today, the letters bright and happy as they hovered in the air, as if marking a joyous occasion. That discordancy disturbed me as much as anything else.

The arena was different today. The rugged contours, presumably representing someplace in the Mirror World, had been replaced with a vast field of grass and vibrant flowers, all the deep and beautiful crimson of freshly pumping blood. The gushing waterfalls, which had concealed many of the walls in the coliseum, were now a constant rain shower of small, dazzling, clear crystals. The nine large spheres remained, lined up along one side of the oval ring, but the giant frogs no longer bookended them. Instead, each pair of frogs stood butt to butt, supporting one of the spheres across their joined backs. The many flags and banners continued to ripple crisply with the colors of the royals of Embermere.

It seemed that to the queen this was all an elaborate show. A performance. What did that make all the unnecessary pain and death? A show of her power perhaps? I feared so.

A hand tapped me on the shoulder and I jumped, jerking around while drawing a pair of blades from my belt. I had the shiny metal at Reed’s throat before I registered that he was a friend—or at least he’d been as kind to me as anyone else I’d met in my time at court.

His kind eyes were as round as full moons as he gaped at me, completely unmoving.

“Whoa there, lassie,” Roan Drum called out as he drew to my side, his gait relaxed despite my posture. He leaned on his ax. “Keep the fight for the ring where it belongs. Reed here ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

I exhaled slowly and withdrew my blades.

Reed’s throat bobbed. I heard him swallow down his fear.

“Sorry about that,” I told him, offering him a sheepish smile. “I’m kind of on edge, and you surprised me.”

Roan Drum barked, part laughter, part grit. “I’m guessin’ that’ll be the last time Reed sneaks up on ya.”

Reed swallowed loudly again, brushing his usual mess of unkempt braids away from his face. “Sorry, Zinnia. I didn’t mean to scare ya. I just wanted to, you know, wish you a dragon’s fortune before your fight today. I wanted to yesterday too, but there were too many of you down here then, so I waited.”

My smile grew. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” I placed a friendly hand on his arm and he jerked.

Roan Drum chuckled again, drifting away from us.

“I really am sorry for scaring you,” I told Reed.

“No worries. You didn’t.” His cheeks immediately flushed. He dipped his face down. “Okay, you scared the piss out of me, but I get it. I’d be on edge too if I had to…” His attention swept out to the field of flowers … and the patch of bright blood in its center.

“Yeah,” I muttered, lowering my voice. “I really wish I didn’t have to be part of all this. It’s really awful.”

He nodded before finally dragging his gaze from the arena back to me. “You’ll be careful?” Then he laughed darkly. “I just … I really want you to make it through this alive.”

“Me too, Reed. Me too. Thanks a lot. I’ll come visit you once this is all over.”

“That’d be great. I’d really like that. I don’t have many friends here.” But his eyes and the sorrow of his tone told me he didn’t have any friends at all, and worse, he didn’t think I’d survive long enough to become one.

I stared at him until he met my eyes. “I will come see you, and we will become good friends.”

His face lightened by a fraction. “I hope so, Zinnia. I really do. Kick some major butt out there.”

I smiled, attempting to appear more confident than I was. “You know I will.”

The last thing I saw of him was the wave of fear for me that flashed across his gaze before he walked out of the dugout.

“At attention,” someone called out sharply, and every one of the remaining competitors—and Lennox—stood tall.

A few moments later, Ivar emerged from the dim hallway that connected the dugout to a relieving station, a room where the injured and dead were taken, and eventually to the lower rung of the stands. It must connect to the royal viewing balcony as well. He moved more stiffly than usual, but otherwise appeared to have suffered no long-term injury from taking an arrow for his precious queen.

“Her Majesty the Queen Talisa Zafira Tatiana and His Majesty the King Consort Oren Amadeo of Embermere,” he announced.

Royal guards, all wearing the blue tunics indicating they were the queen’s personal guards, streamed in ahead of the monarchs. After the latest assassination attempt, a swarm of them had surrounded her constantly as she’d gone about her activities as usual.

The queen glided into view, the king a couple of steps behind her, Braque and Dashiell at his back, another handful of guards bringing up the rear. In honor of the festivities, her crown consisted of jagged, sharp points, all stretching upward, her usual delicate chains of gemstones that framed her face noticeably absent. Her crown was a shiny, white gold, and the inlaid jewels like the flowers: the color of blood.

“Your Majesties,” the fighters expressed in a collective gush, bowing to the pair of them. Even the surly dwarf dipped his head low. Jaw tight, I forced myself to do the same. Even with my father looking on, the queen wouldn’t hesitate to take my head prematurely.

With a slight and gracious dip of her own head, the queen said, “You’re the bravest warriors of our lands.”

Seems like you wouldn’t want to needlessly kill them off then, wouldn’t it?

“Raised from birth for this honor,” she continued. “To fight for your queen and king. To compete so that the crown has the very strongest and best as its newest heirs.”

She scanned her attentive audience, her features carefully composed into beatific sovereignty—until they reached me. Those blue eyes of hers hardened to stone when they skipped across my face.

My father, however, seemed to stare at me and me alone. Even though I looked nothing like his daughter in this current form.

The queen went on. “The winner of the Gladius Probatio will earn the right to pair with the most worthy female in our Mirror World, and to apprentice beneath me and the king. Assuming that after the Gladius Probatio our champion also proves his worth in the following trials, of course, one of you here will eventually become our new monarch.”

Once again, she scanned the men gathered, this time carefully skipping over me, pausing long enough on Rush that no one could miss the favoritism.

The queen smiled, and the gesture was too genuine, too true … and entirely too wicked. My guard went up for no reason beyond that.

And then I felt a presence behind me. I went to turn to face this potential threat, but before I could more than twist a fraction, the queen snapped her fingers while holding everyone else’s attention.

I couldn’t move. I screamed inside my head, crying out my panic, my alarm, my sense of righteous injustice … but not a peep came out, not even one of the annoying squeaks of Braque’s spell.

The queen’s smile widened as she finally turned toward her husband, linking her arm through his, and faced him away from me.

“We came down here to wish you all the good fortune of the dragons,” the queen announced to everyone else.

The body behind me pressed against me, and then came Lennox’s voice directly in my ear. As much as anything else, I wanted to pull away from it. From him.

I couldn’t do a damn thing.

“This is from the queen,” he seethed across the shell of my ear while the other fighters expressed their thanks to their magnanimous queen. “She warned you. Now you’re going to die, you fucking cunt, and if you don’t want everyone you care about dying with you, you’re gonna do it quietly like a good little bitch.”

“Make me proud out there today,” the queen said.

Lennox yanked my armor up in the back and shoved a slim blade into one of my organs. The pain was enough to make my eyes water despite the queen’s hold over me.

When the king’s stare landed back on me, followed by Rush’s, Lennox had already stepped away, stashing his blade out of sight.

My body wanted to crumble and curl in on itself, to mourn the deep damage done in a fleeting, senseless instant. My mind and heart wanted to fight, to scream at the top of my lungs about the injustice of this world, of this life—to murder the queen bitch while she was still in my sights, while I still had a chance. While breath coursed through me.

But her enchantment held, keeping me upright and rigid, until she, my oblivious father, and her entourage of lackeys, returned from whence they came.

Her power finally released me. My knees buckled.

Lennox, back in a conspiratorial huddle of his friends, smirked at me. I stumbled and fell, throwing out a hand to catch myself.

I did. On Rush’s thigh. He’d already been in motion, heading my way.

He caught me, dragging my weight upward. And suddenly Roan Drum, West, Ryder, and Hiroshi were at my other side, helping me over to sag onto a bench.

“What happened?” Rush asked urgently. “Are you all right?”

“You know what happened,” Roan snarled, accusatory eyes blazing in Lennox’s direction from beneath shaggy eyebrows.

As one, Rush, West, Ryder, and Hiroshi turned to follow the path of his glare.

“Hey, guys,” Lennox said, sounding fucking cheery. “What’s up?”

“You know what’s up, you bastard,” Roan grumbled.

Lennox straightened from his perch on another bench and rose, leaning back against it. “No, I surely don’t. And I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that.”

“I don’t care what you⁠—”

“Roan,” Rush warned quietly. “That won’t accomplish anything.”

Roan snapped his glare on Rush instead. “Sure it will. We need to put him in his place.”

“Yes, we do,” Rush continued, just as softly, scarcely a whisper. “But he’s already been defeated, and if we want anything to change in the Mirror World, one of us has got to be the next heir. If we leave the victory to one of them, King Erasmus’ darkness will only grow. It’ll finish consuming the Mirror World. It has to be one of us, and if we give the queen any reason to disqualify us, she will.”

“Not you she won’t.”

“Yes, even me. She knows I hate being her puppet.”

“And yet you are,” Roan growled.

“Not by choice,” Rush snarled back.

“We always have a choice.”

Ryder pressed forward, stare intense, a hand to Roan’s shoulder, stopping the dwarf from doing whatever he was planning. “Rush is right,” he breathed, clearly attempting to keep the ears everywhere that Pru warned me about from eavesdropping. “No matter what, we need to make sure one of us is the winner of this fucking thing.”

Roan shrugged off Ryder’s hand and threw his free one in the air, the other tightening around the handle of his ax. Then he pointed at me. “You know she’s been hurt. And you know that was on the queen’s orders. She was never gonna let a commoner win. We can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Rush’s eyes narrowed as if in thought, or perhaps anger. “Keep your voice down. And no, we can’t.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“Let me think for a moment.”

“We don’t have a moment.”

As if the queen were privy to their conversation, and by dragonfire she might be despite their care, the unisus called out right then, in a loud, clear voice, “It’s time for our next fight: two contestants from the Etherantos clan. Visdrake Russet Sterling will fight the faes’ champion, Zinnia!” When the announcer paused, the spectators applauded. “These are the last two contenders from Etherantos, so if that’s your territory, get loud. Now let’s hear it for Russet and Zinnia!”

The audience hollered out their support, most, from what I could tell, for me. But my focus was wobbly, my breathing accelerated yet shallow.

“Fuck,” Rush grunted. “Bad timing, Azariah.”

“He can’t help it,” Hiroshi said absently, as if his thoughts were somewhere else, hopefully on my problem since I had no idea what to do about it. All I knew was that Lennox had injured me badly. He’d been fully aware of what he was doing, stabbing me through the lower back in just the right place to inflict maximum damage with the least amount of evidence. Merely a single trickle of my blood soaked the waist of my armor.

“Azariah has no more free will than the rest of us do,” Hiroshi finished.

“It’s wrong. It’s all so wrong,” Roan mumbled.

West stepped forward. “Which is why we must win.”

It took more effort than I thought I had in me, but I pushed to standing, staggered, leaned heavily on the bench, and held myself up. Rush’s arm shot out to help steady me.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What’s it look like?”

“Like you’re about to collapse and save Russet the effort of killing you.”

“Feels about right.” My sight was glazed; everything was taking on the glassy tint of a dream.

I took one careful step, waited to make sure I truly could stand on my own, then took another away from Rush’s support.

“You can’t be serious,” Ryder said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I might be dead already, but at least I can die not taking everyone else with me.”

Rush’s hand clamped on my shoulder, spinning me toward him. The world whizzed past me, back and forth, before settling into a somewhat blurry scene.

“Please don’t do this,” he implored. “You can withdraw.”

My smile was devastatingly sad. I’d been snatched from my home for this. While I’d been no more than an unsuspecting guest in Nightguard, not really belonging, doing the dragon shifters’ bidding, at least I’d been safe. At least I wasn’t getting stabbed in the back while my murderers grinned on.

“I can’t withdraw.”

“You can. She won’t order you killed for that.”

I looked up at Rush, pushing the substance of my heart into my eyes, hoping he’d understand. “I have to fight or she’ll kill people I care about. And that might include you, so let me go.”

His brow creased. “Me?”

“You, Rush. I wish we’d had time to get to know each other better. I would’ve liked that.”

He blinked at me in confusion, seeing only Zinnia.

Before he or anyone else could convince me not to do the only thing left for me to do, I stumbled forward, gained strength and resolve with a few more steps, then walked out onto the arena with my chin held a little higher than before.

For Xeno and for Saffron.

For Pru and for every goblin slave who deserves so much better.

Maybe even for Rush.

He might be my enemy, and there might be nothing real between us, but in the right circumstances and with enough time, had we ended up in an arranged marriage together perhaps, we might have grown to love each other. To overcome the differences the queen wedged between us.

A commotion of murmurs circled the bleachers. I guessed I wasn’t looking as strong as I was hoping I did.

When Russet positioned himself across from me and drew his sword, I grabbed two throwing knives and gripped them as hard as I could.

My fortitude was quickly waning, and I wanted to at least take this one bastard out before I went. The queen would still honor her part of the deal—I hoped—and spare my friends, and I’d leave the Mirror World an infinitesimally better place, short one cruel fae of so many.

“Fight,” called Azariah, the unisus, who was apparently as much a victim of the queen’s brutal whims as I.

Russet raised his sword and a cocky smile, swaggering toward me.

I lifted my blade to my shoulder and threw it as I’d practiced so many thousands of times.

The blade fell short.

I was falling short.

I dropped the other blade without trying to throw it, crumbling to my knees.

Russet was close now. Too close. The evil gleam in his stare told me exactly how he planned to dispatch me.

I wanted to have some important thought as my final one in this life, but all I could think about was how I’d die in the wrong skin. How I wouldn’t even have the honor of dying as the person I really was.

Life was fucked up.

No one would even know I’d died. “Lady Elowyn” would simply disappear from court. The queen would fabricate another lie to explain my sudden absence. And Rush and I would never get to complete what we’d started.

The enemies would never become lovers.

I’d die alone, unrecognized, and unsung.

I hoped the Etherlands were better than this shithole.

My blood drained. My strength waned. Whatever organ was pierced was necessary for life.

This was it.

My final moments. My last breaths.

I sucked in as deep an inhale as I could but no longer smelled anything.

Nothing at all.

The air around me felt cold, brittle. Insubstantial. I was disconnected from my surroundings already. Half here, half gone.

The din of the crowd silenced until there was nothing but me, an incongruous field of flowers, and a hope for some sort of existence beyond the pointlessness of death. The pointlessness of life too.

I was falling forward. My arms were sluggish as I dragged them from beside my body to catch myself.

One hand didn’t do as I wished, but the other pressed against the grass beneath me. I sagged around it.

And then…

Then a power streamed into me so fast, so intense, so … great, that my body buzzed and seized. I convulsed, rattling the sparks of thoughts trying to coalesce, to make sense of this madness.

Whatever it was, I couldn’t contain it. It was too much for my already empty shell as it gushed into me, seeking to fill me.

I could hear only whooshing until Azariah’s voice finally made its way through the chaos that was transforming me into … something.

“It’s … what … by a dragon’s veins! That’s not Zinnia. That’s a … a royal!”

READ THE NEXT BOOK

Continue the adventure with Elowyn and Rush in FAE CHAMPION, the next book in the Royals of Embermere series.

FAE CHAMPION

Book Two of Royals of Embermere

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SNEAK PEEK OF FAE CHAMPION

CHAPTER ONE: Saved by the Skin of its Teeth, Chomp, Chomp

I strained against a force like that of a thousand gales while every set of eyes in the queen’s fancy coliseum fixed on me. I couldn’t seek any of them out, not even Rush’s, not even those who had the potential to be allies, those also discontent with the queen’s rule. Their collective attention seared my skin just the same, like a bad case of both windburn and frostbite combined—there had to be some magic pointed at me.

And yet it barely compared to what was taking place on the inside. My certainty that whatever power was barreling through me like a dragon stampede was bolstering my fading life force—not taking it all the more swiftly—was wavering. Every part of my body vibrated, a terrifying sign that I was perhaps moments away from shattering into pieces. My teeth chattered as they hadn’t since the ice storms of Nightguard, and my eyeballs ached as I imagined they would instants before bursting like overripe fruit.

Every internal organ squeezed simultaneously. Each rasping inhale was an expression of agony, each stuttering exhale a hope I’d somehow get one more—all while I pleaded to escape the pain. Even if it meant leaving my body forever, in that horrific moment I’d fucking do it—if only I knew how.

Despite my desperation, I couldn’t withdraw from the source of my torment. Couldn’t pull either of my hands away from the earth beneath them. Though I tried, my muscles wouldn’t obey, and my palms splayed and flattened to connect with the ground in as many places as possible.

Based on Azariah’s earlier pronouncement, the glamor that encased me in Zinnia’s form must have vanished entirely. But though that must also mean I was myself again, and I had years of devoted training in this body at my disposal, I found myself a victim of invisible forces I couldn’t see.

Couldn’t resist.

Couldn’t stop.

I’d studied and practiced all my life not to ever be this helpless.

Zako was failing me again. Nothing he’d taught me had prepared me for this, for much of anything I’d encountered in this cursed mirror world.

Azariah, that elegant, magical creature who was part unicorn and part Pegasus—and also the announcer of the Gladius Probatio—stammered, “My fellow fae … this is e-entirely unexpected. B-but you know our queen. Only the best, ah, entertainment for her subjects.”

Of all the things to be able to make out, his voice shouldn’t be one of them. Until I could decide whether I was to live or die, I should be allowed moments without the reminder that I was her prisoner. The stab wound through my back was no longer salient. It now thumped in tune with my heartbeat along with the rest of my painful parts.

A commotion near the dugout was loud enough to breach the daze that encased me, and Azariah called out again, this time his voice crisp, loud enough to be heard over whatever unrest was happening to my right: “The contestant might be an unforeseen royal, but our queen is ever fair and won’t show Zinnia any favoritism. The Fae Heir Trials have begun. The magical contract is already in motion and cannot be stopped. The match will proceed according to the rules, and things aren’t looking good for our newfound royal.”

Boots wove toward me through the delicate stalks of blood-red flowers. They were a shiny black, an incongruous detail when I was fighting for my survival.

My survival.

This was Russet Sterling, I urgently recalled, visdrake of Etherantos and friend to Lennox Heath, the asshole to whom I’d shown mercy the day before, and who’d returned only to shank me in the back when no one was looking. Russet Sterling would slice off my head even without the queen’s command, which would inevitably arrive.

The many weapons still strapped to my person were too far away, impossible to reach, even more so to wield. They hung, heavy and useless, from my waist and back. But my two slim throwing knives were on the ground close by, gleaming behind the verdant grass and vibrant flowers.

Silver glimmered in the sunshine as Russet pointed a sword in the direction of my face.

I tried to lunge for my knives, but my hands remained glued to the land of the fae, from which the queen drew power while also fueling it—in what must be a putrid cycle, since it involved her. She must even now be using the land itself to make me an immobile target for her next assassin, who competed under the guise of fairness.

She’d mastered the arts of deception and artifice. When it came to her, nothing was quite as it seemed.

Russet positioned himself alongside me. His sword shone as he clutched it with both hands and raised it above his head.

I didn’t need to be fully aware of my surroundings to understand this would be a killing blow. He intended to behead me—the queen’s preferred way to dispatch with inconveniences.

Cries of alarm wafted over to me while I once more attempted to reach for my weapons, to roll out of the way, to knock his feet out from under him, to do anything at all to defend myself.

Still, my hands remained fused to the earth.

Killed by dirt, I thought bitterly. That’s gotta be a new one.

I thrashed a bit, my body scarcely obeying my commands. I couldn’t just wait for my death on my hands and knees. If the queen refused me a noble death, then I’d secure it my own way, dammit.

No part of my body moved the way I wanted. I squirmed a little, spiking new waves of near-blinding pain. With my hair up in braids by command of the murderous queen, my neck was bared to Russet.

A guttural cry filled with rage and despair wove through my senses. I suspected it was Rush. But he and I hadn’t been quite anything. We’d been strangers pitted against each other on the queen’s invisible chessboard, and he hadn’t allowed me in. I was out of chances to see if my enemy’s agent might choose a different move next time.

Air I shouldn’t be able to feel undulated in my direction. Instantly, I realized what it was.

The sign of a death blow on its way.

This was really it. Whatever power I’d hoped was trying to save me, whatever I’d wanted to feel from the earth beneath me, was only my vain imaginings.

I willed myself to have an important thought as my last, and if not that, to feel a blissful calm that would usher me to the gates of the Etherlands, where I would kick Zako’s ass for all his lies and useless preparation.

Instead, a singular resolve overtook the agony that had consumed me. No, I screamed past the whooshing in my head. Not like this. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck no. Not a pawn in a stupid game. Not without purpose. Not for a nasty queen who doesn’t deserve a single drop of the blood she sheds.

Startled gasps abruptly brought me back to my surroundings.

Too much time had passed. Had Russet decided to spare me?

My muscles still strung tight, as if the power of an entire lightning bolt continued to charge them, I dragged my gaze upward.

Russet’s sword was posed above his head, his face red with stunted effort. Sweat trickled down his brow as he strained to bring down the blade.

So it wasn’t mercy.

It was magic.

Someone or something was gifting me a reprieve—the land again, perhaps—though I suspected it’d be short. The queen would soon realize her emissary was struggling to deliver her message and would intervene.

Gaze pinned on Russet, I reached for any of my weapons. Daggers, a morning star, a sword, any of them would do.

The corded muscles of his forearms bulged with his efforts to vanquish the invisible barrier preventing his attack. His biceps groaned against his armor. His lips trembled from effort.

The sharp metal descended a hand’s length toward my head, as if it were grinding through stubborn stone.

My fingers didn’t move even a fraction of that.

I could cry. I could scream.

I didn’t, determined to win against this cruel magic that teased me with its power all while offering me up as a sacrifice to an unworthy queen.

By now, if my father the king were going to do anything to help me, he would have done it already. If Rush were to be more than the queen’s lackey, he would have run to my aid.

Russet’s sword lowered another bit. At this rate, when the blade finally did connect with my neck, it wouldn’t sever my head. He’d have to hack at it as I’d witnessed done just yesterday, never guessing I would share in that gruesome fate mere hours later.

I struggled to protect myself. All I managed was the fierce, internal cry of a warrior: Defend! Dammit, defend! The words didn’t even slip from my quivering lips.

The crash of distant broken glass sparked an eruption of startled screams. Moments later, Azariah’s voice, augmented to carry, exclaimed: “Oh dear ancestors of the Etherlands … it’s a dragon.” That one word I’d heard a million times in Nightguard shook with his fear. “No, not a dragon. A dragon head. Save yourselves!”

Panic swept through the stands above me.

A dragon head? Where the sunshine would a dragon head be coming from?

My eyes widened despite the ache in my eyeballs. True enough, a dragon head zoomed toward Russet and me with the kind of speed that suggested this wasn’t just a severed head but part of the full, magnificent creature capable of incredible grace and agility in flight.

Russet whirled toward the greater danger, bringing his sword up to meet the threat.

A streak of faded scales, the beast’s head didn’t slow as its wickedly sharp maw opened wide. The visdrake of Etherantos shrieked like a young child and scrambled backward until he bumped into my shoulder. Even to prevent him from toppling on top of me, I couldn’t get my body to move beyond stretching my head to the side.

But Russet didn’t fall—at least, not yet.

Up close, the dragon’s dark eyes were black as night, its teeth as sharp as the weapon Russet clutched uselessly, its nostrils snorting smoke instead of the fire it’d have when the head was attached to the body of a live dragon.

That jaw wrapped around Russet’s head even as the man thrashed. Row after row of spiky teeth clamped down on his neck.

Bewildered, I stared as Russet’s body stood on its feet for several seconds, blood pumping from the raw stub of his neck, spurt after arcing spurt. Bones crunched loudly enough to reach the stunned spectators. Just as noisily, the beast swallowed, and Russet’s head … disappeared.

Logic suggested there was nowhere for the visdrake to go when the dragon wasn’t attached to the rest of its body, but the only place Russet’s face—mouth open in a silent scream, eyes gaping wide, forehead scrunched into lines of terror—remained, was in a looping image in my mind.

Russet’s body crumpled into a heap, glancing off my back before sliding to the ground along with his sword.

The dragon head dissolved into a pile of ash. An otherworldly breeze picked up its remains, and the ash sprinkled across me and Russet’s corpse.

All at once, the pain overwhelming me dulled, the force preventing my moving eased, and the thumping through my ears transformed into a sharp ring.

At last sliding my palms free, I collapsed to the ground. Russet’s blood seeped across my neck, beneath my armor, and into the woven strands of my hair, slick and already growing sticky.

I lay there, waiting for life to begin making sense.

~ Order Fae Champion ~

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About Magic Awakens:

In nineteenth century Norland, magic is forbidden, punishable by death. But it’s coming for Clara…

Clara was born into the nobility at a time when rank and power are more valuable than the bonds of family. Her parents have plans for her, all involving her arranged marriage to a suitor selected for her. Every step of her path is meant to end with her walking down an aisle then popping out heirs, to eventually begin the cycle anew.

She cringes at the thought of her destiny, but does all she can to accept the fate her parents have chosen for her. Except then, for the first time in her life, something unexpected happens.

Clara falls gravely ill, and none of the usual methods can save her. With their daughter on the brink of death, when her future alliance is already settled, her desperate father finally calls on a mysterious man whose expertise is in the banned arts. It’s a dangerous move, one that threatens all her parents have built, but her only hope of survival.

Under his secret care, though, an unforeseen side effect develops. Magic awakens in Clara, gifting her with a second chance. Her entire life, she has resisted the lure of magic, doing what has been expected of her. Nothing has prepared her to deny the temptation of the only man willing to save her ... from herself.

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When the Moon Shines

When the Sun Burns

When the Lightning Strikes

When the Sky Falls

When the Dust Settles

Rocky Mountain Pack

Wolf Bonds

Wolf Lies

Wolf Honor

Wolf Destinies

Smoky Mountain Pack

Forged Wolf

Beta Wolf

Blood Wolf

Witches of Gales Haven

Perfect Pending

Magical Mayhem

Charmed Caper

Smexy Shenanigans

Homecoming Hijinks

Pesky Potions

Mischievous Manor

Magical Creatures Academy

Night Shifter

Lion Shifter

Mage Shifter

Power Streak

Power Pendant

Power Shifter

Power Strike

Sirangel

Siren Magic

Angel Magic

Fusion Magic

Magical Arts Academy

First Spell

Winged Pursuit

Unexpected Agents

Improbable Ally

Questionable Rescue

Sorcerers’ Web

Ghostly Return

Transformations

Castle’s Curse

Spirited Escape

Dragon’s Fury

Magic Ignites

Powers Unleashed

Witching World

Magic Awakens

The Five-Petal Knot

The Merqueen

The Ginger Cat

The Scarlet Dragon

Spirit of the Spell

Mermagic

Light Warriors

Beyond Sedona

Beyond Prophecy

Beyond Amber

Beyond Arnaka

PLANET ORIGINS UNIVERSE

Dragon Force

Invisible Born

Invisible Bound

Invisible Rider

Planet Origins

Planet Origins

Original Elements

Holographic Princess

Purple Worlds

Mowab Rider

Planet Sand

Holographic Convergence

OTHER WORLDS

Supernatural Bounty Hunter

(co-authored with Leia Stone)

Magic Bite

Magic Sight

Magic Touch

STANDALONES

Whispers of Pachamama

Daughter of the Wind

The Unkillable Killer

Huntress of the Unseen

~ ROMANCE BOOKS ~

Remembering Him

A Betrayal of Time

For a complete list of every single one of my published books—more than 70!—please visit my website: https://www.luciaashta.com.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d write no matter what, because telling stories is a passion, but the following people make creating worlds (and life) a joy. I’m eternally grateful for the support of my beloved, James, and my three daughters, Catia, Sonia, and Nadia. They’ve always believed in me, even before I published a single word. They help me see the magic in the world around me, and more importantly, within.

I’m thankful for every single one of you who’ve reached out to tell me that one of my stories touched you in one way or another, made you laugh or cry, or kept you up long past your bedtime. You’ve given me additional reason to keep writing.

My heartfelt thanks also go to my beta reader team, advance reader team, and reader group. Your constant enthusiasm for my books makes every moment spent on my stories all that much more rewarding. You’re the best!

A humongous thanks also to the people who work behind the scenes with me to get my books ready for publication. Writing is a solitary endeavor, but once I complete a story, I rely on editors to aid me in polishing it, on designers to provide a cover that makes you stop and want to read, and assistants to help me do all the things so I can free up more time for writing. And those are just some of the lovely people I call helpers and, in many cases, also friends.

And finally, I’m incredibly grateful to get to call so many fellow authors my friends. Behind the scenes, we rally each other. We support one another with happy congratulations at our successes and a hand up when we’re down. Specifically, big bear hugs—rawr—to Leia Stone, Jaymin Eve, and Sophie Davis. Huge love!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lucía Ashta is the Amazon top-20 bestselling author of young adult and adult fantasy and paranormal fiction, including the series Smoky Mountain Pack, Witches of Gales Haven, Magical Creatures Academy, Witching World, and Six Shooter and a Shifter.

When Lucía isn't writing, she's reading, painting, or adventuring. Magical fantasy is her favorite, but the romance and quirky characters are what keep her hooked on books.

A former attorney and architect, she’s an Argentinian-American author who lives in North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains with her husband and three daughters. She published her first story (about an unusual Cockatoo) at the age of eight and has been (more or less) at it ever since.

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Fae Heir

Book One in the Royals of Embermere series

Copyright © 2023 by Lucía Ashta

www.LuciaAshta.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Fay Lane

Editing by Ocean’s Edge Editing

Proofreading by Geesey Editorial Services