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To my surprise, the Shadow Throne answered my question—not in the deep, booming voice but in a quiet whisper in my ear, which only I could hear.
“You are not ready yet, child—but you will be,” it told me. “You must prove yourself worthy—you know what to do.”
And then, suddenly the invisible bands that had been holding me in place on the throne released me. Something that felt like a lot of invisible hands pulled me upright, out of the throne, and pushed me gently away. I found myself descending the steps of the dais while all the Court looked on with wide eyes.
“M-my P-princess,” Stableforth stammered, his eyes wide. “I never dreamed…I have not seen such a reaction from the Shadow Throne and none such has ever been recorded in the annuls of the Winter Court!”
“Come with me,” I told him. Keeping my head high, I swept through the Throne Room, aware that all eyes in the Court were upon me.
Stableforth trotted after me, his hooves clip-clopping on the flagstones. We made the trip all the way back to my chamber where we could at last be alone.
“My Lady, what happened?” the centaur asked anxiously, when the door was safely shut and the rest of the Court was left to gossip and speculate about the strange performance I had put on.
“Well, the Shadow Throne didn’t reject me,” I said. “I am alive, as you see…” I opened my arms and gave a little bow. “However, it didn’t accept me either,” I added.
“It was merciful to you and spared you for another attempt later—perhaps years from now,” Stableforth said reverently. “It is as I said—your magic is not ripe enough yet to wield the power of the Shadow Throne.”
“It spoke to me—in my ear,” I told him.
His eyes widened.
“What? My Princess—what did it say?”
“It told me that I must prove myself worthy,” I said. “And it said I would know what to do.” I gave the royal advisor a level look. “And I do, Stableforth—I know exactly what to do.”
“And what is that, my Lady?” he asked respectfully.
I lifted my chin.
“I might not have the power of the Shadow Throne behind me, but I’m going after Liath just the same,” I told him. “I will not let him rot in my cousin’s dungeons—I will go to him and find a way to bring him back.”
“What way?” Stableforth exclaimed, looking more upset than ever. “My Princess, without the power of the Shadow Throne behind you, how can you possibly hope to stand against the one who wields the power of the Shining Throne?”
I frowned.
“Did not the Shining Throne and the Shadow Throne used to be one and the same?”
“Well, yes—before your ancestor King Oberon grew angry with his daughter for bedding with a half-breed Unseelie and created the Great Divide which broke the Fae Kingdom into two separate Realms,” Stableforth acknowledged. “The difference is that the Shining Throne of the Summer Court does not judge those who sit upon it as worthy or unworthy.”
“Which is how my bastard of a cousin was able to take it from my father, no doubt,” I snapped. “You can mark my words, Stableforth—my father, the late King of the Summer Court, did not die of natural causes. Asfaloth murdered him—just as he murdered my brother, Quillian.”
Stableforth sucked in a breath.
“Then your cousin has much to answer for. But I’m sorry, Princess Alira—I just don’t see how you can make him pay without the power of the Shadow Throne behind you.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rage which had risen in my chest.
“The point isn’t to punish him and make him pay—not right now, anyway,” I said. “The point is to get Liath away from him and bring him home.”
I was proud at how measured and calm my voice sounded. Could I have cheerfully wrung my evil cousin’s neck with my bare hands? Yes. But would I attempt to do so? No. Right now my main priority was getting the one I loved most in the world back to the Winter Court—and back in my arms—where he belonged.
“How will you bring the Prince home, though?” Stableforth asked doubtfully. “Your cousin has said that he will refuse any offers of ransom. I believe he still holds a grudge for the way Prince Liath choked him at your Joining ceremony,” he added.
“I’m going to beg,” I said calmly.
“Beg?” Stableforth’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hair line. “A Princess of the Winter Court begging at the Summer Court? I’m afraid that won’t look very seemly.”
“I don’t care how it looks,” I snapped. “I only care about getting Liath back! And Asfaloth…” I swallowed hard. “My cousin loves it when I beg—when I humble myself before him.”
How often had I had to swallow my pride and beg him and Calista to remove some harmful or malicious spell they had cast on me? I had thought I was done with all that, but now I saw I must beg once more.
