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A small, unfamiliar sneer pulled at the corner of my lips, a bit of hope—when Erik found Larsson, he’d peel his flesh from his bones. Brother or not. This time when the darker edge of my heart reared her head, I didn’t shove her away.
I pressed my thumbs across my brow, soothing an ache in my skull, and kept filtering through what had clashed with truth, and what wasn’t clear. Larsson believed he was the true king, and he wasn’t alone.
I dropped my hands into my lap, teeth clacking when my jaw clamped shut. Others aided Larsson in his treachery, and one face grew clearer the more fog emptied from my mind.
The sound of a latch clicking drew my focus to an arched door across the room. Constellations were carved along the frame and split when the door opened. I scrambled around to the opposite side of the bed, desperate for a blade, a shard of wood, anything to defend myself.
I’d expected Larsson’s face in the dim light. Instead, I met the brilliant gaze of a woman I didn’t recognize. Hair the color of silver twilight flowed down her slender spine. Her ears were sharply pointed and pierced in dainty gold chains. But it was her eyes that stunned me. Bright as a bursting star, so blue they nearly glowed.
Her full, darkly painted lips twitched. “You’re awake. I didn’t trust the sea witch to actually tend to you, so I took the liberty of supplying a few healing herbs myself.”
“You work with Fione,” I gritted out through my teeth, still searching for something jagged to break the skin on this woman.
The day Larsson took me, porcelain features had met me on the boat. The sea witch, she’d been part of this. To what end, to what depth, I didn’t know. If Erik slaughtered Larsson, those darker edges of my heart yearned to be the one to spillherblood.
“I work for no one.” The woman entered the room like a gentle dance. She was delicate in her hands and features, but her body seemed sturdy enough to lift a blade for a few kills. “Truth be told, I find the sea witch rather dull. Perhaps a little odious.”
My brow arched. “Who are you?”
The woman drifted to one of the windows and spread the thin, iridescent drapes aside, revealing a crisp black night. She inhaled, filling her lungs, then let out her breath with a whimsical sigh before she faced me again. “I am more like you than you know.”
She took a step closer; I took a step away. “Larsson took you?”
“Oh, no. Not exactly.” Silver rings adorned each of her fingers, catching the candlelight when she waved them about. “This is my home. Though I do not particularly care for some of the houseguests.” She was oddly calm, yet a flicker of annoyance sparked behind the blue of her eyes.
“Where am I?”
“The palace of Natthaven.”
“That explains nothing.”
“I’m not certain it matters to explain everything.” She laced her fingers together and came closer, stopping in the center of the room. “My ambition is to see that you are not harmed. I’ve had little choice in many things, but I will not stand for needless battering.”
I sneered. “You speak as though I should be grateful to you. I am not. Larsson Bonekeeper seeks to harm the Ever King, the man I love, and steal his crown. If you stand with such a fiend, you are no friend to me.”
“If he is a firstborn heir, is it truly stealing a crown if it is his right?”
“Erik Bloodsinger would have welcomed a brother,” I said, a break in my voice. “If you and Larsson think any of this was necessary, you do not know your king.”
The woman scoffed. “The sea king is no king of mine.”
“Good. I will be certain to list you amongst the traitors.”
Her lips spread, flashing white teeth. Not a cruel smile,almost like I’d said something amusing. “No, he is not my king. I am not a sea fae.”
I took in her features. She looked fae enough, but she had no sharpened teeth, no sea toughened skin. “Well, I am a royal of the earth fae. No matter what side you stand on, you have betrayed someone by working with Bonekeeper.”
“Unless I am not fae.” Again, she looked around, scanning the room. “I told you, this palace ismyhome. I’m honored to meet another princess.”
“Queen,” I spat. “I am a queen.” For a moment, I held steady, fists clenched, but slowly, I released the bitter air in my lungs. “If you are not fae, then—”
“You would call us elven,” she interrupted. “But specifically, I hail from the Dokkalfar clan, shadow elven.”
I blinked. “Elven?”
Dokkalfar.Elves. How many nights had my mother, father, my grandparents, read tales of the gods’ chosen folk?
The ancestors of the fae.
