Page 6
It was absurd that she hadn’t managed to sleep earlier, after so many days and nights spent wide awake, dealing with crises. By rights, she should have fallen into bed the moment she had the Golden Beacon safely in her clutches and then slept as peacefully as a dryad in winter. Instead, once her initial enchantment upon him had faded, she’d paced her lodge for hours with skin that prickled as if it were being poked by invisible needles, waiting for him to finally wake up.
No, worse: worrying about why he hadn’t.
Ugh!
Ailana didn’t know everything. She couldn’t. Even Lorelei didn’t understand the storm of feelings that had overcome her yesterday as she’d stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her closest allies and watched the godsblessed Golden Beacon, after seven full years of private sparring, victories, and defeats, calmly announce that he would be passing on every detail of their meeting to the Emperor Lorelei despised … and then following Otto’s selfish, greedy orders, however misguided they might be and regardless of his own personal feelings on the matter.
It was unbearable. That was all she had known, with a burning conviction that had overruled all logical objections. It was wrong to hear him say that. She owed her loyalty to her fellow queens, not to her enemy’s high general—but she still had to save him from his own misguided sense of duty, no matter what either of her allies thought of her methods. Even if her quest was irrational—impossible!—she had to try to turn him off that dark path in time, before he could do anything truly unforgivable …
… And even if she didn’t understand why she had to do it, she knew her instincts almost always led her in the right direction.
Unfortunately, when the buzzing swarm of worries and schemes in her head finally subsided enough to allow her to slide into sleep in the shelter of her private green cocoon, her dreaming mind transported her directly back to the moment when she had first discovered that her instincts couldn’t always be trusted.
If Lorelei’s instincts were always right, she would have known to hide when her father first arrived in the fae realm. But she had been raised in her mother’s court, the cossetted mortal daughter of Efaelen’s immortal fae queen, and at ten years of age, she hadn’t yet been included in any political councils.
It didn’t even occur to her that she might be in danger when she heard the leaves around her start whispering the news.
“The King of Balravia … the King of Balravia has come…”
This was wonderful news! Lorelei had always wanted to meet her father, who lived far away in the mortal realm, cut off by an aetheric veil from the neighboring fae realm where she and her mother lived. He had never been able to visit her before because mortals couldn’t cross through that veil on their own, but he must have finally found a friend to help him now—and she already knew that he would adore her when they met, just as her mother always had.
She would love him so much, too! She would show him all of her best magical skills, and he would look at her with pride and be thrilled to have such a remarkable daughter.
She danced her way to her mother’s private rooms, so wrapped up in her own delightful plans that she was barely even aware of the raised voices shouting beyond her mother’s door.
“If you think the nation will accept some flighty fae—”
“You cannot alter the magical contract—”
“Then I’ll deal with her myself!”
The last words were bellowed by an unfamiliar male voice. The door was locked, but that was no matter: Everyone said Lorelei’s skill at creating portals was truly remarkable for her age. She certainly couldn’t wait long enough to knock before her grand entrance!
She appeared in a shower of lovely silver sparkles an instant later, beaming with anticipation, before a tall, dark-haired and -bearded human man with eyes the same bright shade of blue as hers. Those almost-familiar eyes widened in recognition as he saw her … and then his face contorted into something ugly and unfamiliar as he lifted his gaze to look past her. “I’ll just take care of the matter now, shall I? And then we’ll see about your precious magical contract!”
Lorelei barely heard her mother’s wordless shout behind her as her father’s big, hard fingers closed around her throat and squeezed.
The next few moments were a nightmare of shock and pain and confusion. Alarms shrieked through the air, her mother’s ancient green magic lashed past her, and as Lorelei’s gaze blurred and then went black, every clawed and sharp-toothed guard in the court descended around them.
When she finally came to herself once more, she was lying cradled on her mother’s lap with her mother’s handmaidens gathered around them, every fae and dryad and hag murmuring unhappily over her.
“Mama?” Lorelei croaked.
Her throat hurt too much to say any more, but the single word was enough. Her mother’s face tipped forward, her fathomless green eyes burning with intensity. “Shhh, my darling. Rest your voice until you’ve recovered.”
“That man—!” Her mother’s oldest and dearest handmaiden muttered the words as she smeared cooling salve across Lorelei’s bruises. “I swear, if we were allowed to lay claws on him, I would wring his neck, and then—!”
“We are not.” Her mother’s voice was colder than Lorelei had ever heard it. “Rest assured, he will never be allowed to forget this moment. But I count myself to blame, as well. I have indulged myself for far too long.”
As she looked back down at Lorelei, her body stiffened, soft comfort hardening into unyielding determination. “It’s become too easy for him to forget the promises he made when we signed our marriage contract. I was selfish, keeping you here so long to myself. I cannot indulge in that luxury any longer.”
Wait. Panic began to beat against Lorelei’s throbbing throat. She couldn’t mean …
“We’ll wait until you’ve fully recovered,” said her mother, “but then it will be time, my love, to finally take your place where you belong, in the mortal realm. No one in Balravia will ever again be allowed to forget that you are the rightful heir to your father’s throne.”
“But—!” The word was an anguished croak as Lorelei suddenly struggled in her mother’s arms.
They tightened firmly around her. “The goddess Sylvana Herself, mother of the trees and flowers, guided me to this point, my child. This is what must happen—what always had to happen, if the fae were to have any chance of survival in the decades and centuries ahead. Balravia must have you upon its throne to fight for our people’s future in the mortal realm. She saw that truth and shared it with me.”
