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“Yes?” I stepped back so I could see both the king and Kent at the same time.

“How confident are you that Nerio is the king’s son?”

Not the question I had been expecting, but I would follow Kent’s lead.

I studied the king’s features. Handsome as fae were, the king had maintained a certain level of attractiveness as he had aged. He appeared to be in his late forties by human standards, despite being nearly three centuries old. But having been around fae now for a few weeks, I could see that he had aged faster than most fae of similar ages.

There were signs of softness in the king’s form and fine lines about his eyes. Also, a heaviness of exhaustion stooped his form ever so slightly. Something that I had not noted about either Lord Greyson or Lord Piro, who were only slightly younger than the king. Perhaps it was the weight of the curse on him.

But then I wasn’t supposed to be evaluating his attractiveness. I turned to study Nerio’s profile and then back to the king’s, and finally at Kent.

“I see no evidence that Nerio is the king’s son. Nerio appears to take after his mother in appearance.”

“Agreed.” Kent took a deep breath. “What about me?”

I frowned as I double-checked my gut response. “I am sorry to say that the two of you are almost carbon copies of each other, except for some minor aspects like coloring.”

“Harpy.” The king growled.

“As I feared.” Kent met his father’s gaze directly.

This brought the king’s head up in offense, anger tight in every line of his body. “Ungrateful brat!”

“Ungrateful?” Rage simmered beneath Kent’s control, but externally, his whole being grew still. “What, pray tell, am I being ungrateful for? Being abandoned? The fact my mother had to raise me alone—in exile—because you murdered an entire tribe of naiads in your efforts to erase her and your bond with her? That I grew up fatherless?”

Not waiting for an answer, Kent shook his head.

The fae king’s fury buffeted Kent’s magic defenses. “I let you live! I knew she escaped, and I didn’t pursue her further!” Crazed emotions turned the king’s eyes wild as he gathered anger-fueled power about him.

Taking advantage of Kent’s coverage of our defenses, I opened up my magical senses and purposefully reached for my elven power as I had been learning to do for three days now. Emotions and intentions flooded through me, and I let them wash over me.

It felt as though time slowed. Breathing deeply, I sorted through the onslaught with great care, tracing each intention back to the correct person. Nerio’s confusion and Sicilia’s manipulation were easy to see as she tugged at his arm.

Kent’s determination glowed like a sun in my magic-enhanced vision. I could trace his power directly back to its source—no, sources. Kent glowed golden beside me, with traces of living green woven through the middle like vines or roots from another source. I followed the lines back until they disappeared into the ground itself. He was tapped into the Wild Wood’s very being, the pulse at its heart.

But when I turned my attention to the king, he dimly glowed like a disconnected island among the interconnected web of relationships around me. Nothing connected the king to his realm. Strange. I reached out and touched the king’s magic. A weak fizzle met my senses.

“What is going on here?” Lord Greyson announced his arrival with a roar. His power, dark and demanding, overwhelmed me, forcing me to retreat behind my personal defenses.

Then household defensive spells snapped into place, snuffing out everyone’s access to their magic.

Kent’s grip closed around my upper arm. “We are leaving—now,” he whispered in my ear before scooping me up into his arms.

The sounds of Sicilia’s shrieks, Greyson’s booming voice, and the king’s whiny complaining faded behind us as Kent strode out of the king’s chambers and into the corridor.

Servants rushed past. Bodyguards and armed males flowed around us, but no one stopped us. I relaxed into Kent’s arms and sank into the very rare sensation of safety as my head came to rest against his shoulder.

Chapter Sixteen

Kent

My whole being hummed with a strange power. Striding through the corridor in a half-fog—chest tight with anger and fear—I navigated through the waves of onrushing servants and guards as though invisible. My senses were full of plant life. Deep loamy scents of dirt and moss, the rustling of leaves and branches above, and the vast secrets of the deep forest felt so close that I feared they would consume me. One wrong step and I would tumble into the depths.

Only my acute awareness of the bright flutter of life in my arms kept my stride steady. Rue needed me. I had to be present and cognizant of the tangible reality for her. However, my awareness of anything else other than her faded and for a few moments, she was my only anchor.

“Kent?” Her voice called me even now. “Kent.” The soft insistence in her voice pulled at me. Gentle hands, strong and capable, caressed my cheeks. Her calloused fingertips caught in the hair near my temples as she pulled my head down. “Open your eyes, Kent.”

I hadn’t realized that I had closed them. Exhaustion washed over me, pulling at my joints. The urge to give in to the call of the deep forest tugged at me. It promised stillness and quiet, something my whole being longed for since falling into this chaotic new life I had been living.