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“Listen to yourself,” I said with a shake of my head. “This power you carry…that’s what is twisted. You no longer have a vessel. Just let it go, Oberon. It’s over.”
As if my words conjured her from sleep, Bellicent stirred. Oberon lumbered over to her side, falling to his knees. He took her hand and clutched it tight, and it was that panic that made me pity him, no matter what he’d done to me. This thing controlled him, just as he controlled me. The difference was, of course, that he did not realize it.
“Bellicent,” he said. “Are you all right, my love? Are you here?”
She sighed and blinked open her eyes. The flames of the fire suddenly sputtered out and life filled her cheeks. “For just a few moments. I need to speak with you about my transfer. My mind keeps slipping away from me, and it needs to happen soon.”
“I don’t have the vessel, and I’m not sure I can get to her. She’s…protected.”
“The Mist King,” she hissed.
I frowned at the ashen remains of our fire. The world thought Oberon had been the one to assign that title to Kalen, as a way to remind his subjects of just how dangerous his power was. Only a few knew the truth. It had been Bellicent, Kalen’s mother. She had not dared to speak her son’s name, fearing it would bring upon a wave of grief too great for her to bear. It was easier for her to see him as her enemy if she called him something else.
And so The Mist King was born.
“No matter,” Bellicent said quickly, before holding up the black gemstone necklace that Oberon and his queens carried with them everywhere. “The other half of the god escaped from her gemstone prison, and she decided to join my half inside this necklace, even though that trapped her again. She’d rather be whole than split in two, even if that means being stuck in here instead. She’s much more powerful this way. And she knows how much I’d like to free her.”
Startled, I sprang to my feet. “All of her? That’s impossible.”
The line deepened between Oberon’s eyes. He reached out and brushed a finger against the gemstone. With a hiss, he flinched. “When did this happen?”
“It’s hard for me to say,” Bellicent replied. “I’ve been in and out of it for so long…perhaps two weeks. Maybe three.”
Oberon’s hand dropped to his side. He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Did Tessa do this?”
“This is the first I’m hearing it.” I frowned. “She and the captain did spend a few days in Itchen. But he would never release the god’s power, nor allow Tessa to do it.”
Bellicent jingled the necklace. “She only released half the power. Now the God of Death is complete once more. All I have to do is destroy this necklace, and she’s finally free.Allof her.”
“That’s why the barrier started breaking down,” Oberon said, ignoring his wife’s suggestion. “With the god whole again, she can work against my power. She can numb my magic, or enhance it. That’s why my fire exploded the way it did. She did this.” He cut his eyes toward the gemstone. “She was trying to kill me so that the necklace would land in someone else’s hands. Someone she could more easily control. Someone who would release all of her.”
Someone just like Bellicent.
I gave him a frank look. “You might not want to admit it, but she’s found you easy to control for centuries.”
“I would never release her, and she knows it.” Oberon ripped the necklace from his wife’s hands and took a step away from her.
“Enough with all this bickering. You’re wasting my time,” Bellicent said. “Don’t you see what she’s done? She has united her two halves. Her power is complete now, and it is far greater like this. It means she can transfer me into an immortal body. Apermanentimmortal body. No more moving me around every seventy-five years.”
I stiffened. Bellicent had been desperate for a fae body for as long as I could remember, and it had always been out of reach. With only half of the god’s power, she’d been resigned to cycling through mortals every time her mind started to give out. Those poor women were nothing but husks when she got through with them, but Oberon could never bring himself to let them go completely. He got attached to each and every one, squirreling them away in the Tower of Crones, where he visited them regularly.
“That’s true.” Oberon knelt beside her. “We could transfer you into a fae body now if we had one.”
Bellicent smiled and then shifted her gaze to me. Shuddering, I stumbled back. The moment she’d mentioned it, I’d known. Because, of course, it had to be me. We were hidden in the mountains, far away from everyone else. It was either me or Oberon, and the king would never sacrifice himself. That was one step too far, even for him.
Oberon turned toward me, his brow a thick, furrowed line.
“No,” I whispered to him, even knowing it was pointless, even hating myself for begging.
But then he turned back to Bellicent and said, “Are you sure this is what you want to do? Morgan has been with us for centuries. She’s served me—and you—well. If you do this, it means you’ll kill her.”
My lips parted in surprise. There was a fondness in his voice I never would have expected to hear from him.
Bellicent laughed, a hollow sound that was far more like the dying bleat of a wounded animal. “I don’t care. Her death means nothing to me.”
Oberon sat back, a frown etched into his burned face. “How can you say that? This is Morgan. She’s sacrificed so much for you. She’s held you as you cried and wiped the tears from your face. Don’t you remember?”
“Ages ago,” Bellicent said. “I have not cried in at least a hundred years.”
