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All the air was being sucked out of my chest, my throat.
Closing. My airways were closing.
“Old Uther and Igraine kept her well-hidden. It seems not much has changed now that she sits the throne.” Jax shrugged, as if it hardly mattered.
Queen of Secrets.
It should not have mattered, not after all that I’d endured.
But those three words punctured deep into the shreds that remained of my heart.
Queen of Secrets. He had no idea how true it was. How the secret I kept would unhinge the delicate peace that held Annwyn hostage. A terribly timed reminder of why I was there… and what I stood to lose.
I knew I was not destined to be a sovereign of fairness and grace, like Arthur would have been. He’d deserved to have legends written about him. After the way things had ended… he probably still would. I suppressed a shudder at the thought.
But to hear that not even my own subjects thought me worthy, those who had never known me… it cut so much deeper than it should have.
For someone who was supposed to care about nothing.
No one.
Except revenge.
That was why I was there, in a tavern in the bowels of the Effren Valley.
I took a deep drink of the ambrosia, pretending it was revenge in liquid form. I willed it to sustain me, flood my senses, give me purpose.
“I have no idea what the queen has planned.” That was the truth. Everything hinged on the information Jax would give or withhold. “I want to know about six months ago—were there humans smuggled in around that time.”
“Around the time of King Arthur’s death, you mean.” Jax was looking right at me now.
I had to tread this line very carefully.
The rumbling growl began again, lower this time but no less ominous. I silently prayed to the Ancestors that Arran would keep his promise. One misstep, and all these months of work would be for nothing.
“Humans do not belong in Annwyn,” I said, pulling one dagger from my hip. I lifted it until it was even with my head, then let it fall straight down so the tip embedded in the bar top. “They need fae help to get through the Blasted Pass.”
Jax tried to keep his eyes on me, but they slid again and again to my dagger. He was likely weighing how proficient I’d be with it.
“The Blasted Pass is not the only way through the mountains,” he said with a casual shrug. As if he had not just dropped a wrench into the machinations of my mind.
My hand tightened around the hilt of my dagger, my entire stance changing. I felt Arran surge to his feet behind me, felt the heat of him inches from my back.
“Sit down,” I ordered over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off of Jax.
I could feel Arran’s hesitation; he lingered another breath longer.
When he finally retreated, I let a sigh of relief slip out.
“Your bodyguard is quite protective,” Jax said, leaning forward to admire my dagger.
It was a lovely thing, with its jeweled handle. A wolf was carved in the silver pommel, a black diamond glittering in its eye.
“He is well paid,” I said. “As you shall be, in thanks.” I pulled loose the little bag of gold tied at my belt and dropped it onto the bar top in front of Jax. He stowed it away with a slight nod.
“It’s too bad, really,” he said, eyes still on my dagger. “I am curious to see how well you wield it. But alas…”
Jax’s eyes never left my dagger as he buried his own in my gut.
