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It was easier to sneak into Albyria than I’d expected. We approached from the dirt path that led up the hill from Teine, a small human village that had been empty when we’d passed through. The glittering city gates were open, fae and humans walking side by side, chatting amicably as the sun beamed down on us all.
As Niamh and I shuffled in behind them, the armored guards barely gave us a passing glance, though I kept my eyes downcast. Few here would know my face, but they might have heard rumors of my sapphire eyes—a color rarely seen, even in fae. Niamh, who had been here only weeks before, kept her violet hair hidden beneath a dark hood. And soon, we were inside.
I made for the nearest pub first. I’d learned long ago that if you wanted to hear gossip, you went to the drunks. Full tankards led to loose lips, or so my monster of a father used to say. We reached the door of The Red Dragon and pushed inside. Instantly, shadows swallowed up the light from outside, and the pungent scent of ale swirled around us.
Several round tables were scattered throughout the dimly lit room, every single one packed, both with fae and humans. Some were playing cards while others sat sharing stories, their boisterous laughs booming through the small space. I spotted a cloaked human sitting alone near the back and motioned Niamh to follow.
I sat down across from him, wearing false ease to hide the tension pounding in my skull. He was a wiry man with graying hair and a face etched in wrinkles, who at first glance seemed harmless. Just an old man out having a pint. But I did not miss the keen sharpness in his expression or the way he noted Niamh’s hood, my eyes, and the dagger I had hidden inside my tunic.
“I know who you are,” the man said in a gravelly voice. “And you should not be here.”
I dropped my voice to a low whisper. “I’m looking for my mother.”
He took a long drink before he answered. “What makes you think you’ll find the answer here?”
“This city was the last place she was seen alive.”
“I meant in this pub—in that seat right there.” His gaze shifted to Niamh. “The Queen’s Shadow, a common fae who is far more deadly than many elite fae, as long as you have a bow and arrow. There are songs written about you, you know.”
“They’re all true,” she said with a flash of her teeth.
I leaned across the table. “You look like someone who sees a lot. Hears a lot too, I’m betting. I’m willing to make an exchange. Tell me what you’ve heard, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
The man nodded. “I know something. But what if you don’t like what I have to say?”
“I’ll give you the payment up front.”
“I want gemstones. The pale gray ones. I know you have them in your mines.”
I glanced at Niamh, and she shrugged. “I’ve got ten in my pouch.”
The man’s eyes brightened at that. “Ten communication stones. Up front.”
Niamh dug into her armor and extracted a small leather pouch. Before she handed it over, she gave me a questioning look. “Are you certain?”
“Go on. I want to hear what he has to say.”
With a small sigh, she tossed the pouch across the table. It landed beside the man’s tankard, the gemstones jingling. Greedily, he grabbed it and peered inside, a slow smile splitting his lined face.
“You know how to use those?” I asked.
“I can manage.” He dropped the pouch into his lap and then gave me a wary look. “I don’t know what’s happened to your mother. No one does. Some stories say she ran off to live with the humans and got killed along the way. Others say Oberon killed her, either by order or by his own hands.”
I scowled, dropping two fisted hands on the table with a thump. “That wasn’t our deal. I want those gemstones back.”
“I said I know something. I never said it was about your mother.” He cast a glance around us, and then lowered his voice. “I thought you’d want to hear that King Oberon has been searching for a way to use the power of the gods.”
“What?” Niamh hissed as she palmed the wooden table and leaned forward. “Where did you hear that?”
I sat back and flared my nostrils to smell any hint of lies in the air. There was none.
Oberon was playing with fire.
A grim realization settled over me as my mother’s words echoed in my mind.Vow to me, she’d said. She’d looked so worried when she’d told me about the prophecy and the gods. And now here I sat, listening to the last thing I’d expected to hear today. King Oberon was using the power of the gods. My mother was dead.
She must have discovered what he was doing, and he’d killed her for it.
And now I would have to stop him.
