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Veyka glanced to the side, unable to meet my eyes as she said, “You are the Brutal Prince. I’m sure you can imagine.”
Humans were inferior to fae in every way. They were smaller, less muscular, most lacking in even a drop of magic. I’d encountered them now and again. It was impossible not to, having lived as long as I had. Until they’d somehow managed to sneak into the goldstone palace and murder the King of the Elemental Fae, I’d regarded humans the same way most fae did—as little more than vermin to be exterminated when they wormed their way into our world.
But there were others…
They called me the Brutal Prince. But I was far from the cruelest fae living.
“The fighting pits were exterminated by the Ancestors,” I said, hating the thickness of my own voice—the seed of doubt.
On other far flung continents, beyond Annwyn, they were still kept as slaves, used for entertainment. But not here, not since the time of the Ancestors.
Veyka tipped her head forward, so that her entire face was illuminated by the moonlight that slipped between the fronds above. “And you call me naïve?”
The shock must have shown on my face.
She laughed then, and the sound was so cold, so merciless, it threatened to shatter something inside me—the illusion that Veyka was innocent. That she was selfish and spoiled and naïve. The belief I’d held since meeting her—the judgment that might be wrong.
Veyka advanced toward me, her steps sure even on the uneven mountain terrain.
“Humans are smuggled through the rifts, through the mountains, and into Baylaur. Jax all but told me as much. My council was more than happy to execute the humans who murdered my brother—too happy. Too quick. No one questioned how they made it to Baylaur in the first place.” With each word, I watched the fury build on her face.
Wrath only enhanced her beauty.
I swallowed down the desire to drag her to me and spoke instead. “You think the Shadows smuggled them in?”
Veyka nodded. “Yes. If they’ve done it before, they’ll do it again. I will find out where, I will find out how, and then I will find who. When I find who is doing the smuggling, I will know who on my Royal Council paid to get those humans through. Who is really to blame for taking Arthur’s life.”
My understanding of Veyka was being reshaped around me. I also realized what she had not said. “And who is responsible for the attempts on yours.”
She shrugged, as if her life was trivial.
I felt the slinking of my beast nearer to the surface. I’d shifted this morning, for Ancestor’s sake. He should have been satisfied. But the threat to Veyka had awoken him. “You are the Queen of the Elemental Fae. If you are killed—”
Veyka stepped right up into my space then. My body thrummed to awareness, but if the desire rolled through her as well, she didn’t let it show—as usual.
“You said you wanted to help me,” she reminded me, tone threatening.
“I want you to live long enough to sit on that Ancestors-damned throne,” I ground out, my hands curling to fists at my sides.
Her eyes were fierce. How had I ever thought she was weak?
“Then watch my back,” she said, turning away as suddenly as she’d advanced. “We keep going.”
* * *
We did. For another hour, we climbed. I stopped Veyka a few times, pointing out potential passes thatmightbe exploited. But upon closer inspection, they were too treacherous, even for elementals. A fauna-gifted terrestrial fae might have been able to navigate the sharp crags in their animal form. But humans? Impossible.
When I told her as much, Veyka didn’t argue. She nodded and turned back to the invisible path she seemed to be following. Only when the moon started its downward descent, marking the midpoint of the night, did she finally turn back.
Baylaur had just appeared in view, a twinkling of yellow firelight far in the distance, when she stopped suddenly.
My eyes went upward by reflex, looking for the gap she’d spotted and wished to inspect further. But there was nothing—nothing beyond an impenetrable red-orange mountain, turned black by the night.
But Veyka was not looking up.
She was staring down the slope. Into a ravine, I realized as I tracked closer. We were poised above it, the path we’d taken earlier—were retracing now—rimming the edge. The path was only a few feet wide. Dangerous, by most estimations. But even in the dark, I’d hardly noticed it. Veyka was so sure-footed, the idea of her falling into it was preposterous.
So why was she staring so intently now?
