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The entryway opened, as was the custom here, into a grand throne room with King Vern’s throne built of twisted wood and ivy climbing to the ceiling. Instead of pillars, trees lined the corridors, and lanterns hung from them. But while both my home and Bash’s broke off to stairways, King Vern’s spilled into a massive, circular room lined with seating. There was no roof. It was like an arena from back home, one I’d spent hours training in. The very sight of it made me purse my lips.
A man emerged from the crowd to our side. He wore the band of the kings and a beard of silver to match his stormy eyes.
“Bastian, I see you bring a guest.” His voice, deep as an ocean, carried a wave of interest.
Bash moved nearer to me. “Thea was eager to join me tonight,” he said.
I remembered to put on an adoring face for him. “Thank you for inviting me.”
So this was King Vern. His gaze rolled over me for a few seconds before smiling. “I would have made the feast grander, had I known we’d be honored by the presence of a Mortal Queen.” In true fae king nature, Vern’s beauty stood out. His arms were chiseled with muscle, his light skin flawless, and his smile charming enough to make my knees weak. My own flaws stood out in comparison. Yet, King Vern bowed his head at my presence as if it were I who shone.
Bash looked around. “I doubt that’s possible. You must have invited the entire realm.” Even to me, hardly knowing Bash, the dislike in his voice was clear.
King Vern drummed his fingers together. “I’m pleased with how many came. I have something quite special.”
It was only because of how close Bash stood that I felt him tense. I tucked my hand into his elbow. “We can’t wait to see it. Bash promised me you have some of the finest art here.”
King Vern spread out his arm. “Be my guest, my Queen.”
I pulled Bash away, noting King Vern didn’t stop watching us until we’d entered the throne room and were lost behind a sea of fae. The tension in Bash’s arm relaxed.
“That was risky,” he said. “Art is not common in our world, and Vern owns some of the only pieces. Any other king would have caught your lie.” His attention kept jumping from face to face, looking down every corridor and every opening between masses of fae. He wore a frown that deepened with each step.
“If you have somewhere else to be, I can go find my shadows now,” I said.
He finally glanced my way. “Not somewhere, someone. I’m looking for my sister, Troi.”
Wherever Troi was, Bash searched as if she were drowning and he was the only one who could save her. He cursed under his breath. “Where is she?”
Soft silks of dresses brushed my arms as fae mingled about us, but none of the faces matched someone who could be related to Bash. They all lacked that resplendent look in the eyes, the strong curve of his lips, the rounded jaw.
“I’d help you search if I knew what she looked like,” I said.
At that moment, four drumbeats called the room to attention. King Vern moved through the crowd, but he didn’t head for the throne. He stood at the entrance of the arena.
He raised a cup. “We have been blessed tonight. The finest archer in all our realm has graciously offered a show of his talent.”
He paused to allow the fae to cheer. Beside me, Bash stiffened. A shot of worry sparked through me.
King Vern held up his hand for quiet. “From that island”—he pointed through the sky to a smaller island positioned like a moon above—“Ian will fire his arrow, and it will hit its mark perfectly.”
Once more, the room clapped, this time more enthusiastically. I gawked at the distance.
Bash’s eyes closed for a moment as he whispered, “No.” When he reopened his eyes, they held fear.
The smile on King Vern’s face was more wicked than pleased. “I’ve recently come by a new possession that is of no value to me. But here, I have found a way to make her valuable.” Bash trembled beside me. “Ian will put his arrow through her heart.”
The room applauded for a third time, but much less enthusiastically. Whispers rustled through the crowd at whom he could mean.
A moment later, a door at the end of the circle room opened, and a girl with her hands bound stumbled into the light. Her skin was the same warm brown at Bash’s, and she had the same sharp nose shape of her mask. Without a doubt, she was his sister.
King Vern intended to kill her.
“Save her,” I choked.
“I can’t.” Bash’s breathing was uneven. “My father made a poor deal and lost my sister in return. It was fair, and the deal must be honored. She is now King Vern’s possession to do with as he pleases. And this is how he pleases.”
My eyes widened. “That can’t be right.”
