Finally, they relax, though their eyes remained focused. I’ve felt pretty confident in my ability to hide behind my shadow magic, but this will be my first real test. Remaining undetected from half-drunk fae passing through almost public areas isn’t a challenging task.
Passing two trained guards protecting a very narrow hallway—is.
I hold my breath as I tiptoe forward, holding onto the shadow magic covering me as tightly as I can manage. Now is a time I’d love the encouraging whispers of the shadow sprites. I imagine their voices, telling me I’m lovely and strong. Telling me that I belong with them.
I will be back to the Whisperwood, and I’ll be free. I just have to do the worst thing I can possibly imagine first.
The guards don’t so much as blink as I pass them, my imaginary sprites cheer me on.
One long deep breath later, and my focus clears to allow me to study the hall. The walls are made of solid white marble, sparkling incandescently. The ceiling domed, adorned with elaborate columns covered in antlers. There are several doors down this massive hall, simple ivory with golden handles. Each one as nondescript as the rest.
Patience, I decide. I don’t know which room to enter, and though gaining information from several sources may be beneficial—not today.
I have to see him again, find out if he really is as good as he seemed. Maybe there is something more to the story. Maybe he has some dark secret. Maybe the world is better off with him dead.
Or maybe...maybe there’s some way out of this. Maybe I can find a loophole, a way out of the bargain. I just have to hope I can get lucky.
A clinking sound alerts me to someone coming down the hall. I slip to the side, checking the magic that keeps me unnoticed. A fae with tall antlers rounds the corner, carrying a covered tray. He stops in front of one of the doors on the left side of the hall and taps on the door three quick times. The door opens, exposing a bare-chested young male. Not Rev.
“About time!” he exclaims, and opens the door wide for the antlered delivery fae. A moment later, the fae leaves empty-handed and then a door across the hall opens.
“Chimmie?” a deep, but soft, male voice calls.
“Yes, master Reveln?” The fae stops, facing the open door.
“Are you serving breakfast soon?”
“Yes sir, I’ll bring it right up.”
“Thank you,” he says, then shuts the door softly.
Finally, I think, even though I know I’d gotten very lucky. Now that I know where Rev is, I can feel the ache stirring in my gut. Longing, I realize. Eagerness to be near him. A fae prince I don’t even know.
I close my eyes to the truth stirring in my gut. I’m drawn to him. My magic is drawn to him.
No, I’m simply curious, I tell myself. He’s a cute, sweet boy I want to get to know.
And then kill.
I shake my head. I am so messed up its insane.
Just keep thinking it, I tell myself. Convince the magic you’re going to do it.
But what if I convince myself while I’m doing that? Where does the Night Bringer’s magic end, and I begin? I take another long breath. Stay calm. Keep moving. Keep doing.
I count to twenty and then knock on Rev’s door—three quick raps.
“Wow,” a muffled voice calls. The door swings wide “That was fa—”
My heart squeezes as I look at him, and he looks right through me.
“Chimmie?” He pauses, frowns and then swings the door closed. I set my foot between the frame and the door at the last second, causing it to bounce back. I slip through the opening to Rev’s room before he grumbles and pushes it closed the rest of the way.
My heart pounds rapidly as I realize I did it. I sneaked into Rev’s room. I’m officially a spy. First an assassin—now a spy.
My stomach aches. Is this wrong?
I look around Rev’s room, standing right in the middle of the gold throw rug while Rev flops onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling. In this moment, I can pretend we’re here together. That he invited me, unlike those other females, and we’re here together. Awkward, shy, but together.
It’s a silly fantasy.
I don’t know what to do now. The magic inside my chest stirs uncomfortably, and the thorns on my wrist dig into my skin, sharper than before—most definitely not my imagination—but I haven’t failed yet. They’re waiting, wondering.
Kill, the magic hisses. A reminder of what it wants. What it expects.
Claim me, it instructs.
This magic isn’t mine until I complete the bargain.
Death would be a mercy. A mercy the Night Bringer will not give me.
I can’t do it. I can’t give up. I can’t...
I can’t not do it. But I can’t kill him either.
Rev gets up from his bed suddenly and walks over to a desk in the corner of the room. My back is pressed to the wall as he passes. His room is brightly lit, making it more of a challenge to keep hidden. I require shade and shadows to hide.
Rev sits at his desk and shifts through a few books. He flips through the pages of one whose spine reads “The Art of the Bargain.”
I blink. I’d like to read that book, though it would be an impossible task to take it from him now. It does give me another idea. In a place this big there must be other books. Perhaps even an entire library. There could be history books here. Though, that’s a silly thought given the circumstances.
My eyes flick up to the shelf behind him. To a black heeled shoe sitting there. My shoe.
I suck in a breath, more audible than I should have allowed, and Rev pauses. His eyes narrow as he turns toward the corner I cower in.
“Hello?” he says.
My heart pounds. I could expose myself, I think.
Yes, then press a blade through his heart.
I suppress a groan.
How could I kill him? My... I swallow. I can’t do it.
Do not give up, the magic hisses. Keep trying. That, I can do, I tell myself. I can keep to the shadows of this bright court’s palace and...look for him. Look for my chance. As long as I haven’t given up, he won’t come for me. Maybe I can spend the rest of my life here—a nomad, hiding in a court where I don’t belong. I’ll keep trying to kill a fae I suspect I’m supposed to love. Forever. Never succumb to defeat but never win either.
That’s a fate I don’t want, but perhaps I could live with it.
Rev stands and takes a step toward me. Then, there’s a knock on the door.
With a frown, he crosses the room and swings the door to Chimmie. The antlered server brings in his tray of food and sets it on the coffee table by the couch. I slip out the door before it shuts behind them.
Chapter Fourteen
My teeth chatter as I scour through another pointless book on bargaining. The library is dark, making it easy to keep hidden, even while I move books around here and there. None of the librarians have so much as blinked at my presence.
The books, however, are impressively unhelpful. They all talk about how to avoid getting trapped into a bargain, but never how to get out of one once you’re in it. The only potentially useful information I’ve found is that the wording of a bargain is very important. Many historical villains have used the wording of a bargain to deceive others. They’d get the well-meaning, would-be hero to enter into a seemingly harmless bargain and then fulfill the wording of the bargain technically but with a different interpretation.
They’d promise to take a child to their father, but they’d didn’t say their father had to be alive.
They’d promise not to attack their castle while they were mourning. But they didn’t say they wouldn’t instruct one of their allies to attack.
My bargain was very simple. Kill the youngest son of the Luminescent Court’s king. His youngest heir.
I’ve looked up the definition of both kill and heir.
Kill: to deprive of life in any manner; cause the death of; slay.
to destroy; extinguish; do away with.
Heir: a person who inherits or is entitled to inherit the rank, title, position, etc., of another.
The youngest heir could mean some other heir in this court—if he hadn’t said the king specifically. Which king, perhaps? I looked up if the current king was the youngest of his family. No luck there. He has a younger brother, but he’s not currently an heir, so it doesn’t work.
Perhaps if the King has a new baby, a new youngest would be born and...
I’d then have to kill an infant child. No, that’s not a good plan even if I could somehow make it happen.
There is still more to consider, but my brain is having a hard time keeping up without sleep and with almost no food.
I’ve been a stowaway inside an enemy court for three days. I’ve learned very little except that my first impressions were all correct. Rev is sweet. His brother is a jerk just like their father.
I’ve seen him yell and insult his servers. I’ve heard him talk about his new mate in derogatory ways. I even watched him corner a young female fae, gripping her arm so tight it bruised. He whispered something in her ear and then let her go.
Reahgan scares me. Something about him is... off.
I’m hungry and tired. I’ve stolen a couple pastries from the kitchen, but it’s not enough to fuel me for long. I’m weak and scared and unsure of what I’m doing anymore.
Kill, my magic tells me.
Part of me wonders if I just need to get it over with and do it. But the more I stall, the less resolve I have—and I didn’t have much to begin with. Not since I met him.
Maybe I’m being stupid. Maybe I’m being pathetic.
But my knees go weak every time I see the youngest prince of the Luminescent Court. His eyes are soft and kind. There’s hope inside them.
Will I have hope when this is over with? What will be left of me even once I complete the bargain? I will have power, but my soul will be in tatters. Already is, if I’m honest.
Maybe his life is worth more than mine.
Every time I think that thought, my teeth chatter harder. I’m not strong enough to face the Night Bringer again. And I am not foolish enough to think I could hide from him while the bargain is still hanging over my head.
My magic inside me tells me daily what will happen if I fail. The thorns on my wrist grow tighter each hour I linger.
I just need a bit more time. Time to figure this out.
I shut the book and shove it back in its place on the shelf then move on to something else. Something to distract me.
I’ve listened to guard’s conversations—they’re also not a fan of the new High Court Heir. The servants and cooks, they’re less forthcoming in their chit chat, though. They’re more interested in rumors on inter-court romances.
Earlier, I overheard one young female cook tell one of the servers about a mysterious female who broke the young prince’s heart at the ball. I bite my lip and flee the room the moment I realize she’s talking about me.
Broke his heart.
Instead of the kitchens, tonight I head to the throne room. I’ve learned that every other evening after dinner, the King meets with his advisors. That’s a meeting I’d like to be part of.
Adorned with shadows, I slip through the halls like a wraith. A phantom, neither alive nor dead.
Consequences feel less significant when you’re no longer living, so in my mind, I am not. The moment the Night Bringer’s talon carved into my body—I died. I believe it. Here and now, I believe that I am no longer part of the living.
My purpose is a mere whisper in the back of my mind. I move because I must move. I do because there is no other option.
It makes it easy for me to pass by the high-ranking fae of the Luminescent Court as they enter the small doorway into the throne room flanked with guards. On a platform on the far side of the chamber sits a massive throne made of what looks like mirrors, reflecting light around the whole room. On that throne sits the king of these lands. He has dark hair and silver eyes like Reveln, but that’s where the similarities end. This man is harsh, his stature nothing impressive—Rev is taller than both his father and his brother—but the king’s countenance is powerful. His forceful magic radiates from him and draws every eye.
That is, until the prince arrives.
I swallow, shifting farther into the corner beneath the massive golden curtains.
Attention shifts to Reahgan, the new High Heir. He will be king of all the fae in twenty years. I don’t know which of the two resonate more power—Reahgan or his father.
I find myself trying to picture Reveln here. He would be smothered beneath these males and their natural influence. Or do I simply not know Rev enough? Would he rise to the occasion and dominate the room if given the opportunity?
The king rises as Reahgan sits beside him, a throne smaller and set lower than the king’s. Soon, he will be more powerful than his father—but not yet.
The rest of the fae find their own seats on small but ornate golden chairs set around the throne’s platform, and the meeting begins. One by one, the advisors bark about their topics, the first about security, the next finances, the next agriculture. The next male has reddish-brown hair and is shorter than most, but his voice is low and controlled. He tells the king that the celebrations for Prince Reahgan’s new status continue to rage. Though the celebrations are rowdy, the army is out ensuring things remain safe for all manner of Lumifae. The good news is that it has quieted the murmurs of discontent. The advisor never goes on to explain the discontent, and I find myself wondering what he meant. It must be a well-known issue because he never expands on it and no one asks.
They soon begin conversing about Reahgan’s upcoming wedding. The advisor’s laugh heartily over crude jokes that make me uncomfortable. Reahgan doesn’t laugh along. In fact, his expression never changes. At first, I think this is due to displeasure with the jokes, or how it degrades his fated mate.
“She will be on her knees soon enough,” Reahgan says, his eyes lifeless. My stomach sinks as the advisors chuckle.
“Enough chatter,” the king says. Perhaps he’s displeased with the state of their conversation? I’m hoping for anyone to have the heart to treat a woman with respect. “What is next on our agenda?”
“Prince Reveln has skipped three of his classes this past week,” a grey-haired fae says slowly, as if bracing for the King’s reaction.
The king crosses his arms, his expression hardening. “Lazy fool.”
“Perhaps,” Reahgan jumps in. “But perhaps we should give him grace this week. The celebrations have been...hard on him.”
“Jealous, lazy fool, then,” the king spits. “Nothing new there.”
Reahgan narrows his eyes but says nothing more.
The auburn-haired advisor shifts in his chair. “As the youngest heir to the throne—”
“He is no heir of mine,” the king says sharply, and I suck in a breath.
“Father!” Reahgan says, his eyes wide, jaw slacked. I don’t know much about the new High Heir, but the emotion-filled expression on his face right now seems out of character. Every other time I’ve seen him he’s been stoic and poised, eyes hooded and emotionless.
My lungs tighten as my mind whirls through the implications of this short conversion.
First, I realize very clearly that the King of the Luminescent Court hates his youngest son. I don’t think he is simply displeased or frustrated by Rev. The anger on his face at the mere mention of his name is—unnerving. Does he hate him enough to hire an ancient being to assure his death?
Second, the true heir’s reaction to his father’s comment “he is no heir of mine,” proves it was significant. Is it possible there is truth to the statement? More than a mere hyperbolic expression of anger?
“I will talk to Rev.”
The king winces at his son’s name.
My stomach is churning, but my heart is thudding eagerly. A new secret to uncover.
Chapter Fifteen
Following the advisor’s meet
ing, I follow Reahgan from the hall. His footsteps are quick and heavy. He wants everyone to know he is coming.
I slither behind him as the phantom that I have now become.
This palace is huge, and I’ve explored maybe half of it. Reahgan walks through corridors I’ve never seen. He slips into a dark and narrow hall, leading to the far back of the building. A few hundred feet later, he stops.
He stands there for several heartbeats, not moving. Quiet.
Is he waiting for something? Or... did he sense something amiss? Something like me.
I work to keep my breathing under control.
Slowly, Reahgan turns. His devious silver eyes scan the hall, narrowed. He lifts his chin and sniffs. Ew. “Who are you?” he whispers.
I barely suppress a gasp.
He stands up straighter, expression falling back to the blank canvas he usually wears. “Follow me and die,” he says casually, confidently. Then he turns back and continues walking.
I don’t dare follow him.
FOLLOWING REAHGAN TURNED out to be a dead-end, but I do know somewhere he’ll be headed soon enough. And I’m never one to turn down an opportunity to spend time with Rev.
I quickly slink up to the third floor, down the hall and tap on Rev’s door. This is the third time in three days I’ve entered his room. I realize that any more, and he’ll grow suspicious. Who keeps knocking on his door and not coming in? Why does the door bounce open every time he tries to close it?
This might be the last time I can risk it without finding a new way.
But today, I’m willing to take the risk. Maybe part of me wants to be caught, wants Rev to see me here, hiding, desperately trying to find a way to save him and me both.
Rev sits at his desk, reading through another of his books peacefully. I sit on the ground in the corner of the room, wishing he’d read aloud. I want to hear his voice, his thoughts, what he’s learning.
Maybe an hour later, there’s another knock on the door. Rev groans. “What in the world?” he mumbles as he moves to answer it.
“Reahgan!” Rev says. My heart leaps to my throat, even though I’d expected it. I pull the shadows tighter over myself and sit as still as I can manage. “What are you doing here?” Rev asks.
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