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“We have work to do. I must be clever enough to escape the fae, but sneaky enough that they’ll never even notice.”
She walked quickly into the palace. It stood just as it did now, but with rows of mirrors along the white walls leading to the staircase. She, just as I, ruled the west side. There’d been no sighting of the High Queen of the East.
Dhalia paused in front of one of the mirrors long enough for me to get my first taste of her. Dark hair with a mix of caramel hung down her back, the tips curling by her elbows. Her seven earrings were white, as were the bands around her upper arms and the rings in her nose. The crown tattoo on her forehead matched mine exactly.
She turned away as the last detail shook me.
When I’d chosen my mask, the ambassador claimed he’d never served a Mortal Queen who chose a black mask. But he’d lied. I saw him at her Choosing Ceremony, and I was not the first queen to choose a black mask. She wore one too.
As if that detail was the last I was allowed to gleam from this vision, I was sucked away from her body and thrust back into my own, back on the floor by the fire with the wool at my knees and the painting gripped in my fingers.
I took a few steady breaths before setting down the painting and burying my head into my hands. The disheartening snippets didn’t show me anything useful. Whoever sent these was playing a cruel game. At the end, I could only pray the answers would come soon.
But wait. I had gotten some interesting facts. Dhalia had planned to run away with Morten to the mortal realm. The three ambassadors were the only ones capable of passing through the realms, and he was not one. The details of that plan intrigued me, but if they’d discarded it, I would never know what they were.
And Dhalia thought she’d never be safe in her own realm. That one scared me. If I hoped to survive just as she had, then I’d be following her path.
But that would mean I’d never get home. Because Dhalia never left the fae realm.
King Brock rearranged the stars themselves to form a road leading to his home island, and chariots lined up to glide over the celestial pathway, one by one, settling down on the foothills of his quaint home. It wasn’t as lavish as others with curtains of diamonds or pillars of marble with tigers nestled on cushions. Instead, his was more like a glorified townhome overlooking a busy street with brick roads, shops, and swooping banners of all colors.
Talen and I watched from afar, biding our time to make our grand entrance.
The only sign this was a king’s home was the grand pavilion on the roof, built as if from light beams and nothing more. Its glow lit up the island.
“He built that for his wife.” Talen seemed as taken with the sight as I was. “It’s all she’s ever asked of him, but he would grant her the realm if she wanted.” I longed to meet this wife of his to see if she was as spectacular as I envisioned. Talen spoke as if he heard my thoughts. “Even kings are powerless before great women.” He focused on the home as the number of arriving chariots dwindled. But while his face was impossible to read, I had no doubt Odette’s image was planted inside.
“We women are not as powerful against the male’s pull as we like to claim,” I remarked.
That broke his trance. “Tonight you will be. Tonight you will appear to defy one king’s command over your isolation, tempt a second king to your side, and I suspect summon blinding jealousy out of a third.”
Bash’s chariot arrived. It was twice as large as most others, and the navy cloak he was so fond of caught the breeze. I watched his figure the entire time until he landed and waltzed into the townhome as if he owned the place.
Talen’s focus never left mine. “Remember your plan.”
I stood straight. “I remember.” I checked myself once more, adjusting the way the gown fit to my waist and the alignment of the three gold bands around my right arm. I’d left my hair in its natural curls but had allowed Odette to heat an iron rod to wrap a few stray strands around—just the unruly ones that hadn’t gotten the message about how important tonight was.
Odette was here somewhere, waiting for our arrival. She’d been tasked with keeping as many fae in the foyer as possible to witness my early release from isolation.
I placed a hand on Talen’s arm. “Is that Gaia?”
He followed my gaze and nodded. “She’s good friends with Brock’s wife and likely came at her bidding. I don’t expect her to speak to anyone else though.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
Talen’s voice dropped. “She was like you in her first few months. Motivated. Cunning. She and the previous queen, Ivory, often worked together to trap the fae in deals. But also like you, she got trapped in a few of her own. One such happened just before you came.” With each word, pity crept into his tone. “She lost a deal and was ordered not to speak to her family upon returning for your Choosing Ceremony. She couldn’t even look at them. Her humiliation upon losing such a deal must have been great, but I suspect her pain was far worse. After that, she changed.”
I remembered how her eyes glazed over her family even as they reached for her, called to her, begged her to notice them. She appeared so put together, so queenlike. Beautiful, even next to the stunning ambassadors. Much less mortal and more like a fae. I hadn’t seen the pain cleaved deep into her heart and how it must have chipped at her with each moment, until she’d come back broken.
Games can be addicting and the high of tricking the fae almost irresistible, until it steals something you weren’t willing to give. Gaia knew that well.
I couldn’t imagine. Her family’s pain would have been massive as well with their daughter ignoring them, and the weight of that knowledge would be a heavier burden to bear. The unwanted image of Malcom came to mind, tears streaming down his cheeks as he said my name and I didn’t reply. As he held out his tiny hands for me just to have me turn my nose away. Yet she’d bore that burden.
“Tonight, nothing goes wrong for us. Your appearance is the only move we need to make.”
I sucked in breath. “I can appear.”
“Good. Then let’s begin.”
