Page 91 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“Who raised it with her?” Ophelia asks.

“The prince.”

The prince. Grant shakes his head. Iagan, most likely. Lark would have mentioned it. From what he told me of Ronan, he might not have cared enough to.

But who weaved the spell? Iagan or the witch? If he did it, I can’t work out why. If she did—how would he not notice?

“Why would either of them want everyone to forget?” I ask.

Grant is pacing again. “Iagan would have strengthened the veil to keep people safe,” he says and shakes his head at my incredulous look. “No, I know. But he has the Hunt for a reason. He doesn’t trust the fae, and you know the stories. It used to be way easier for fae to cross over. Plus, it would make more sense for her to have done it. I dunno. Maybe. It’s a leap.”

“What is?”

“There aren’t two crowns. There are three.”

I lean back against the wall again. There it is. That’s the bit I’ve been missing. And Grant might think it’s a leap, but the sentence settles in my bones, ringing true. Two suns, one moon. A dais big enough for three thrones. A room with space for three tombs, so instead it rings wide and hollow.

“She was supposed to be the third,” I say, “and now she’s punishing the princes for it.”

Ophelia gapes at me. “You can’t know that.”

“Lark said no one has three children. No fae. They had Ronan, but he had a human soulbond, so they had Lark, and”—I glance at the fae, still watching us in astonishment, and swallow down another truth I know—“so does he. So they tried for Iagan.”

Grant snorts. “Yeah, his soulbond is human, too.”

“Ronan’s soulbond got him killed. I… She was never going to let me and Lark be together. Why else wouldn’t we find our way through the woods? Why else would the mirror fail?”

“She wants Iagan on the throne then?” Ophelia asks, but Grant shakes his head.

“I don’t think things are going well for him, romance-wise,” he says with a grimace. “Not that I know for sure. Obviously. But they’re not about to bond or anything.”

“This isn’t helpful,” Ophelia says. “I mean, it is, but it doesn’t help us get out of here.”

Grant focuses on the fae again. “You want a Seelie to rule, right?”

“I—Aodhan will rule. He will have a Seelie sit alongside him. You all know no—” His tongue trips over the word and Grant wraps his fingers around one of the bars. He’s already won.

“Three. Two suns, one moon. Two fae. One… something else. I bet she’s not entirely fae, not really. It’s about balance.”

I huff a laugh. “That’s the other thing, isn’t it? The Unseelie and Seelie thing.”

Grant nods like what I said makes perfect sense. “It’s arbitrary,” he says. “Not in how you’ve been treated, obviously, but in what you can do.” His magic flares and he tips his head to one side. “But you already know that.”

The fae freezes in place. The bluster returns, but it feels more forced than before. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, you—”

“You can shift. Transform. Whatever. They’d call you Unseelie, but you’ve been with the Seelie all your life.”

I sit frozen. Ophelia is just as still as I am, her eyes wide. Slowly, the fae nods. “My parents were Seelie,” he says, “and they told me to never—No one knows. No one.”

Lark is Seelie. I should have realised it when he told me the difference, and both his parents were Unseelie, except maybe one wasn’t and they kept that quiet, too. There’s no version of this where the king and queen weren’t involved. The witch isn’t fully fae. They were fated to rule together, but for whatever reason, the witch didn’t take a throne with them.

“If you want us to fix this, you need to help us out of here.”

The fae scowls, but as the seconds tick by, the expression on his face softens. “Even if I could—I do not have the key. Aodhan took it.”

“Took it?” Ophelia asks.

“He left. An hour ago. He is going to the castle.”