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“Who the fuck is Aylee?” Shelby snatched the letter from Rehan’s hand and turned it over.
To his credit, Rehan had learned from the morning and clamped his mouth shut sending a puzzled look to Ace. He made a show of turning toward the throne and examining it with a level of scrutiny only a man trying to stay out of trouble could.
Ace plucked the envelope from Shelby’s hands and stared down at it. “I am,” she muttered under her breath. “Ace was a nickname my father gave me. My name before I died was Aylee. Aylee Havlock.”
It had been a long time since she’d said her own name in full. Still, it didn’t feel right. Aylee had died in that valley. Ace had returned in her wake.
Rehan lowered himself onto the throne, squirming in the seat until he found himself comfortably propped on an arm with his legs thrown across the other side. “This isn’t a very comfortable throne,” he said more to himself before he glanced up. “Are you going to read it?”
“I guess I have to.”
Wax broke away from paper, leaving behind a greasy stain. With trembling fingers and the urge to make sure no one else was watching, she pulled the note from inside.
“Read it out loud,” Shelby said. He was stiff, his face blank of any surprise he might have felt finding out Ace’s real name. She understood the message behind the statement.
Don’t lie to me again.She was losing his trust. That’s why he needed to hear what it said, so no more secrets could be kept.
Shame burned inside of her.
She gave a small cough to clear her throat before she began, the smallest moment to prepare herself for what was to come.
“‘Dearest Aylee.’” Ace tried not to roll her eyes but instead allowed herself to scowl. “‘I fear we are all pieces in a game we did not ask to play. How we ended up on opposite teams was no mistake. If you should decide to continue, please prepare yourself for a war that will be bloody for all sides, fae, humans, and warlocks alike. Trust that I am sorry for the part that I’ve played. Choose your teammates wisely.’”
That’s it?Ace glared at the card as if it could further explain. Her scowl deepened and the gods’ presence was so strong inside her head she could feel it pounding behind her eyes.
“What are we going to do now?” Nothing could be easy. Nothing could be straightforward. Her fingers curled into the paper, the urge to tear it to shreds blossoming inside of her like a dark flower.
Shelby lifted one hand, a single finger pointing toward the letter. A visible shiver moved through him. His face had gone slack, eyes wide and blinking. “Read the back.”
“What?”
Ace flipped the letter over. One more sentence had been inscribed on the back. The writing was sloppily dragged across the page, a last minute afterthought.
“‘Releasing the witches is your only fighting chance.’”
Ace
“It’s impossible.” Shelby practically yelled into the room. He brought a hand up to rub at his temples, his boots already threatening to wear a path into the old floorboards as he began to pace. The navy cape he wore played at the wind of his momentum making him look like some sort of crazed bird.
Rehan tipped his head back into the throne and examined his nails. Was he already imagining his role as king?
“Is it?” Rehan asked, bringing his hands to rest on his stomach.
“To release the spell we need a whole fucking lot of warlock blood.” He waved a hand around the room. “I don’t see any warlocks lining up to volunteer. No doubt they’ve all been taken to Queen Ophelia or have escaped and gone into hiding.”
“We could try and scent out their magic like they did to you,” Ace added.
“That could take weeks, months even.”
“No, you don’t need warlocks. You just need the blood of the gods. You need divine heavenly power. Dare I suggest…holy fire?”
Shelby’s look of near rage at the audacious suggestion muddled with confusion. Same as Ace’s. Her brows rose as his lowered. Ace planted her hands on her hips while Shelby’s returned to their natural state of being folded over his chest.
“What are you talking about?” Shelby growled.
If looks could kill, Rehan would be dead ten times over.
Trying to find her place in the lives of these two men, Ace gently laid a hand on Shelby’s bicep. A soft touch that said more than she could as she stepped closer to her future husband.
