“That is a conversation you will have to have with Lord Dagen. His opinions are not mine to give.” She gave Bree a tight smile. “Now, go get changed so I can cast this glamor. You have a feast to attend.”
Bree felt strange walking into the Great Hall like she belonged there. It had been only a few nights ago that she’d been forced to stand up in front of this crowd and humiliate herself. No, scratch that. She’d been forced to be humiliated. By the Prince. The very one who was now staring at her from across the room. He sat at the head of the very long table that sat higher off the ground than the rest. A silver crown sat atop his head, one Bree noted he had not been wearing before now. The light color was accentuated against his dark hair and moonlit skin.
Her feet slowed as her eyes locked on his. Heart thumping hard, she pressed trembling fingers against the thin silky dress. Why was he staring at her? Could he tell something was different about her? Had he already noticed that she was not who she claimed to be? Or was it something else?
Did he...was he involved with Ethne?
Her cheeks flamed at the thought. Surely not...right? Of course, Ethne was incredibly beautiful. She had the kind of beauty that her friend Norah had. Those bright eyes, clear skin, and long flowing blonde hair. She was the kind of female to stand out from a crowd, drawing every male eye onto her.
Something strange within her stirred. She hated the idea that the Prince would be attracted to the female she was pretending to be. But it made sense. He looked at Bree as if she were the scum of the earth. He was not drawn to females that looked like her, with dark hair and small pointy features. Bree looked like a mouse instead of a gazelle.
The Prince half-stood from his chair and motioned for Bree to join him at his table. Shit. That wasn’t ideal. She just wanted to join the feast for some food, and Ethne hadn’t mentioned that she’d have to sit with the very male she most wanted to avoid this night.
But it made sense. In the end, Ethne wanted her to spy, just like Dagen did. She’d probably known Bree would have to sit at that table, listening in to conversations that could gain her insight into the Prince’s plans...
Still, that didn’t make much sense. If Ethne could overhear information herself, then why didn’t she just come to the feast? Why had she sent Bree in her place?
Bree couldn’t wrap her head around it, and she didn’t have too much time to dwell on her confusion because the Prince was frowning at where she stood frozen in the middle of the room.
With a quick shake of her head, she pasted on a false smile and joined the Prince at his table. He motioned to the seat beside him and gave her a slight nod before turning to the male fae on his other side. She recognized each of them from their walks together. Conlan and Branok were their names. Dagen was nowhere in sight. There were a few others she remembered from the last feast she’d attended, but Rafe was not at the table either.
Bree scanned the room. He’d been placed at a table further in the back, almost hidden beneath the shadows of the tapestries that hung from the wall. They were red and gold and black with a pair of red wings etched across the entire surface, flapping against an invisible wind. Rafe seemed to be surrounded by others that looked like him. They wore darker clothes, some frayed at the edges. Bree frowned. Why did the Prince have Rafe sit over there instead of with him?
“Do you not think so, Ethne?” Taveon asked, glancing Bree’s way. He’d been deep in a conversation with Conlan and Branok, but Bree hadn’t heard a damn word. She’d been far too focused on Rafe to notice.
“Hmm,” Bree said, noncommittally and nodding her head. She just needed to remember she didn’t need to say much. A nod here, a smile there.
But that didn’t appear to be enough for the Prince because he frowned in Bree’s direction. “Is there something wrong? You are not acting like yourself. Why do you keep looking at Rafferty?”
Bree thought for a moment. Prince Taveon obviously expected some sort of answer from her, but what would Ethne normally say in this situation? Something courtly or political no doubt. She was a member of the council. They probably discussed their “subordinates” like lesser beings.
“He has been spending a lot of time with the slave,” Bree said, wincing at the word she hated so much.
“He is training her,” Taveon said. “I told you not to worry about Rafe. He is like a brother to me. There is no one else he would rather see sit on the throne.”
“Of course,” Bree said. “My bad.”
Taveon’s deep dark eyes flickered as he stared at her. “Have you been speaking with the slave? That is a very human thing to say.”
Shit. Bree internally rolled her eyes at herself. She was so used to saying whatever popped into her head that she wasn’t watching her words as carefully as she should. She was going to have to be more careful, or Taveon was quickly going to realize the truth.
“Yes.” She gave a nod and spoke slowly, weighing every single word that came out of her mouth. “The human slave is quite...fascinating. She has such a strange way of speaking, does she not?”
Taveon seemed satisfied with her answer and the stiff way Bree spoke the words. He turned back to his male council members but his next words were cut short by an explosion of wood as the large double doors flew open and crashed into the walls.
Taveon was on his feet within an instant, but Bree stayed rooted to the spot, clutching the oak table tight in her fists.
Five figures rushed into the Great Hall, their faces obscured by white marble masks in the shape of contorted screams. They looked like something out of a horror film, and they carried so many weapons that it made Bree’s head spin. Swords and daggers and maces that looked as though they could cut down a fae with a single stroke. Through the open doors, Bree could spot the bodies of the guards that stood watch outside of the feast every night. They were on their backs, and blood spread across the stone in pools of bright sickly red.
“Prince Taveon,” Bree whispered, reaching out to clutch his arm, forgetting herself.
The masked figures raised swords and began slashing through the fae who sat nearest to the door. Screams erupted through the hall, echoing against the domed ceiling. Fear shook through Bree’s core and her heart beat so hard that it felt as though it might explode out of her chest.
She had no weapon, and neither did most of the fae in this Court.
“Conlan. Branok. With me.” The Prince shot Bree a grim look and pulled out his sword. “Get all the royals to safety, Ethne.”
Bree didn’t even know her own voice when she spoke. “I should help fight.”
He gave her a strange look. “Not today.”
And then he was gone, raising his sword high in the air as he charged toward the attackers. Bree’s heart lurched in her chest, which surprised her. She actually felt afraid for the Prince, worried that these attackers might mow him down. And he looked so strong, so powerful. He was rushing into the fight, putting himself in danger for the sake of the Court.
But that was ridiculous. She hated him. And he couldn’t even die. She’d sooner see him tortured at the hands of these attackers than see him ascend to his pitiful throne.
Still, she couldn’t help but appreciate his tightly-coiled muscles, and the way he soared through the air with the speed and grace of a dancer. Taveon was a horrible monster, but she could not deny that there was a breathtaking intensity about the way he moved.
“Ethne,” someone said into her ear before grabbing her arm. “You need to get the females out of here before the attack reaches the royals.”
Swallowing hard, she ripped her gaze away from the Prince. Perhaps there was some good in him, but it wasn’t enough to erase everything else he’d done before.
Chapter 21
Dagen
A knock sounded on Dagen’s door, and he glanced up from his desk with a frown spread across his face. It was late. Far past midnight. Who in the name of the forest would be knocking on his door this time of night? Slowly, he stood, grabbing a poker f
rom beside the fire and striding across the room to the door. He doubted anyone would make a move against him, especially not so blatantly inside of the castle like this.
But he was on guard just the same.
When he opened the door, he found Ethne’s familiar face peering up at him. His brow wrinkled. No, that was wrong. It wasn’t Ethne at all. He had seen her glamor enough times to know when the real thing was standing before him and when she was not.
Dagen lowered his weapon. “I should say I am surprised to see you here, but I do not think I am. I should have expected it.”
“Where were you tonight?” she demanded, making no attempt to lower her voice.
Dagen frowned out at the corridor. No one was there, but that did not mean there were no eyes and ears around. “Come inside.”
Bree let out a little huff and strode into Dagen’s room, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how much of her came through the glamor, even though she was the spitting image of Ethne. It was in her every little movement. The way her narrowed eyes were lit with fire. The way her fists were balled by her sides. And the way she threw her shoulders back, just daring anyone to get in her way.
“Bree,” he said gently. “It is not wise to come here, even if you are glamored. I can tell it is you. Others may be able to as well. I am not the only fae in this castle who knows of Ethne’s gift.”
“I don’t care. I want to know where you were tonight. And I want to know where she was, too.”
Dagen frowned and gestured at his paper-strewn desk. “I have been here doing some work for the realm. Some issues have cropped up with a few of our outposts across the Black Sea. As for Ethne...” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I am not her keeper.”
“She said you two were in cahoots.”
Dagen bit back a smile. “Cahoots? Is that some strange human word?”
Bree narrowed her eyes. “She had me go to the feast ‘dressed’ as her, and then a massive attack on the Court happened. You’re telling me these two things aren’t related?”
“Wait just one moment, Bree. An attack happened? What are you talking about?”
Bree glared at him, flicking her eyes up and down his body as if she were sizing him up. In any other situation, he might like to think she was appreciating the pants that were slung low around his hips and the way his open tunic revealed his skin. Not that he truly wanted Bree to appreciate him while she was glamored as Ethne’s form. That was madness.
Still, a part of him wondered at what she saw when she stared at him so intently.
“You didn’t know?” She frowned, seeming surprised. “At the feast tonight, some masked fae stormed in and took down several members of the Court. The Prince managed to capture some of them, but no one knows who they are.”
Outsiders. Strangers in the Court. Launching attacks during the nightly feast.
Dagen’s frown deepened. This was bad. And it meant that his hunch about the status of relations throughout the realm was worse off than anyone wanted to believe. If their enemies were bold enough to attack the Court inside of their castle? Well, he shuddered to think of what they might do next.
“I am sorry, Bree. You will have to excuse me. There is somewhere I need to be.”
She propped her little fists on her hips and frowned. Such a Bree move, he couldn’t help but think.
“Are you kidding me?” She strode forward and shoved a finger into his chest. “You and Ethne were conspicuously absent tonight, don’t you think? What, did you plan this? Or did you get a heads up that it was going to happen? So, you hid in your room so you wouldn’t be killed?”
“You truly think I am so terrible that I would launch an attack on my own Court.”
“You asked me to spy on the Prince.” She shrugged. “So, you’re obviously not happy with the status quo.”
He paused as he tried to weigh her words in his mind. As much as he hated himself for it, he was taken aback by her willingness to believe he was that kind of monster. But he should have known, and could he really blame her? Most of the Dark Fae in this castle had shown her nothing but the very worst parts of themselves, including the Prince.
The Prince, who liked to think of himself as better than all the rest of them.
But Dagen had shown her more. Why could she not see that?
“There is being unhappy with the status quo, Bree.” A pause. “And then there is murdering a bunch of innocents when I have been tasked with the responsibility of keeping them safe.”
Bree’s eyes widened, and in an instant, the glamor disappeared from her skin. Instead, the wild-haired girl with big blue eyes stared up at him, looking far more human than she ever had. Taveon had said she’d once been a member of the mortals before she’d become a Light Fae through the Redcap virus, but it had been impossible to see. But now it was though all of her masks had fallen away. He could see the humanity in her now. And he couldn’t help but find it breathtaking. What was it about this girl that drew him in so?
“Well, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” she asked.
“That is what I must find out,” he said. “So that it does not happen again.”
“Could it have been Ethne? She wasn’t there either. She sent me there, like this.”
He gave a quick shake of his head. “Ethne would never do such a thing. No, I fear it is worse than that. This attack sounds as though it has come from outside instead of within.”
“But—”
He held up a hand to stop her. There was only so much she needed to hear. “Bree. You have lost your glamor. Let me take you back to your room.”
“What?” Bree’s face paled as she glanced down at herself. She held out her hands in front of her, gasping when she spotted her own pale skin rather than Ethne’s silvery hands. “Have I been like this the whole time?”
“Not really,” he said. “Though you are not very good at wearing glamor. Everything about you has screamed Bree since the moment you walked through that door.” Despite everything within him urging him not to, he stepped up close to Bree and lifted a strand of wavy hair from her shoulder, sliding the silky material between his fingers. “You may have looked as though your bright yellow hair was pulled up high onto your head, but the way you moved, the way your eyes burned, it all shouted that it was truly long and free and flowing. Fierce.”
Bree seemed to hold her breath as she watched Dagen slide his fingers down the length of her hair, and her entire body was tense. “Are you talking about my hair?”
“Your hair and everything else about you. Your soul. What makes you so very much you.” He lifted his lips into a smile. “You are terrible at wearing a glamor because you burn so very bright.”
Bree sucked in a breath, and her eyes shifted from his hand to his eyes. “I should go. Like you said.”
He dropped her hair and stepped back, trying to hold down the disappointment. Because what did he have to be disappointed about? Absolutely nothing. The two of them had just been having a conversation and nothing more. It was not as if Bree had ever felt anything toward him but disdain.
“Of course.” He gave her a tight smile. “And I have an attack to look into, it seems.
Chapter 22
Bree
After Dagen escorted Bree back to her quarters, she laid awake in bed with her covers clutched tight to her chest, staring up at the dark ceiling as her heart ran wild in her chest. What in the name of the forest had just happened? She’d gone to confront Lord Dagen about attacking the entire Court during their nightly feast, and instead, she’d ended up...what exactly? She didn’t even know.
One moment she’d been yelling at him and the next she’d been frozen on the spot while he ran his fingers through her hair, waxing poetic about her bright soul or some insanity like that.
And the worst part of it all? She had liked it.
No, she whispered to herself, and then she closed her eyes tight. She hadn’t liked it. She was just confused because it had come so out of the blue. Who would have t
hought Lord Dagen of all people was interested in her? He was so strange and mysterious. So distant and bizarre. Sometimes, he seemed incapable of feeling much of anything. And yet he had feelings for Bree?
Or did he?
Maybe Bree was getting ahead of herself here. All he’d done was touch her hair and tell her that she was terrible at wearing glamor. That didn’t mean he was into her. Maybe Bree was the only one who’d felt anything at all when he’d been touching her. Maybe she was the only one who had trembled, heart racing, heat rushing through her body.
Which made the entire incident that much more embarrassing.
She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but it was impossible to deny that he’d had some sort of effect on her, one she was going to have to push aside. He was dangerous. He was devious. And he was a Dark Fae.
Rafe didn’t collect Bree for training the next day, leaving her pacing from one end of her quarters to the other. Had Taveon told him about her new living situation? He most surely had. And was his absence because of it? She certainly couldn’t see any other explanation.
But what did it mean? Bree stopped to stare out the large window at the growing moonlight. The lands of Underworld stretched out far on every side. The castle was high on a hill, looking down on the world below it. She could see the thick forests, their silvery leaves illuminated from the glow of the moon.
Rafe hadn’t sent word that training was cancelled, and she hadn’t seen him after the attack at the Great Hall the previous night. Had something happened to him? Had he tried going after whoever had tried to take down the Prince? It scared her to think that he had.
A knock sounded on the door. Bree let out a relieved sigh and crossed the room. But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Rafe’s tall form standing in the hallway.
“Lord Dagen?” She asked with a frown. “What are you doing here?”
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