by Bec McMaster
I’m told that sometimes you can still hear them, pouring their rage through a conch shell late at night.
“I was alive,” Thalia mutters. “I was living in Unseelie territories then, trying to eke out a living. It wasn’t a pleasant time. I’d been exiled by my grandmother and found myself hunted by every type of creature who can be found in those forests. Thiago found me after the wars, locked in a cage in the goblin caves. They liked my voice and used to make me sing for them by stabbing me through the cage with their spears until I relented. My powers were starting to mature, and Thiago could sense me out there in the world somewhere. He didn’t know who or what he was feeling, but he came for me. He rescued me. And I’ve been by his side ever since.”
I feel a little embarrassed.
“I think your grandmother might be worse than my mother,” I tell her.
Thalia picks at my bread roll. “If you knew the things I know about your mother, you might not say that.”
I daresay I wouldn’t.
It’s surprising how easily I believe her. Mother’s always claimed the kingdom of Evernight is ruled by a circle of vicious, power-hungry bottom crawlers who dabble in the dark magics of the Unseelie kingdom, but I’ve seen little in the way of evil brewing, and after being raised in her court, I think I’d recognize it.
The moment’s a breathless one.
What if we Asturians aren’t the ones on the right side of this entire war?
Did my mother push us into a war against a kingdom that’d done nothing wrong?
It’s been brewing for so long, a series of brief skirmishes that the Alliance holds in check from full-blown war, that I can barely remember what started it.
His wife.
The thought stabs at me. My mother took his wife from him, and he’s never forgiven her.
“I didn’t scare you off, did I?” Thalia jests. “You look like you’re going to throw up on the grapes.”
“I’m fine. Just dwelling on… unpleasant thoughts.”
“Well, I suppose we were talking about your mother. That’s as unpleasant as topics of conversation come.”
I pick at a grape, rolling it between my fingers. I’ve tried to discover the truth, but to no avail. When Thiago locked me away in Valerian, he severed my connection to the world. But now…. “Tell me something…. How did the prince meet his wife?”
Thalia rears back. “I think you’d best ask Thiago that.”
“I’m asking you.”
She hesitates. “Princess—”
“Vi,” I insist.
“Vi,” she says, meeting my eyes. “It was thirteen years ago—”
No wonder I can’t remember. I would have been barely eight or nine. Nine, I think. My birthday’s near the autumn equinox, though I haven’t celebrated it in years.
“They met at the Lammastide rites,” Thalia continues, her voice growing wistful. “He loved her the moment he saw her, and she must have owned the same feelings, for they married the next day. Why are you asking?”
“No reason.” I see her eyes narrow. “Beyond the fact we were speaking of my mother, and I was thinking of the war between our kingdoms.”
“Adaia resented the marriage,” Thalia mutters. “War had been brewing over the Mistmere territories, but it only erupted when she stole the poor girl away. She wanted to hurt him, and she succeeded.”
“What happened to her?”
“I… I don’t know. The queen only ever sent… pieces of her back.”
It makes me swallow. “Fine. My mother’s the evilest bitch in the entire Alliance. I win.”
I can’t help thinking of the prince.
He loved her.
And my mother destroyed her. Imagine opening a box and finding the finger of your loved one? Or worse….
My mother’s been known to send hearts instead.
“Seeing me must cause him no small amount of pain,” I whisper. Imagine looking into the eyes of your enemy’s daughter every day? “I can’t believe he doesn’t hate me for it.”
“He’s treated you well?” Thalia asks carefully.
“I nearly expired of boredom, but that was the only danger.” Indeed, he’s been kinder than I probably deserve. And all I’ve offered him are sharp words.
“There’s time to make amends,” Thalia says, pushing to her feet. “Perhaps if you gave him a chance, you might find those amends aren’t really so bad, after all.”
I throw my last grape at her. “You’re as bad as he is.”
And while the attraction between us threatens to overwhelm me, I don’t want to be some pathetic substitute for his poor dead wife.
“Of course I am,” she says with a smile. “We are related. And I think it’s time for him to pursue happiness.”
“You overrate my charms.”
“You underestimate them,” she points out. “Sleep well, Princess. And call me if you ever want to speak. I think we’re going to be great friends.”
“I’d say you have impeccable taste, but then you seem to like Eris too.”
There’s something about Thalia that wins a smile from me, regardless of how hard I’m trying not to.
She grins. “Eris has her charms. But she’s emphatically loyal to Thiago. She thinks you’re going to break his heart and get him killed.”
“How can I break his heart when he’s already given it away?”
Thalia pauses. “Love is a renewable resource. You can destroy the source of it. You can twist it, and curse it, and deny it all you like. But you can never completely obliterate the possibility of it. All you have to do is be open to it. He gave his heart once, Vi. It doesn’t mean he can’t give it again. It will always beat for her, but perhaps it can beat for you too?”
“I was under the impression he was trying to use me to get her back,” I mutter.
Thalia blinks in utter surprise. “How in Maia’s name did you ever dream up such an idea?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her about the letters.
But I still don’t know who penned them or what the author means by any of it.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s probably… something I heard in my mother’s court.”
“Don’t believe anything you hear in your mother’s court,” Thalia says in a droll voice. “It’s either poison or lies. What did you think he was planning? Did you think he intended to sacrifice you to Kato in order to fetch her from the Underworld?”
The thought did cross my mind.
“No,” I scoff. “I don’t know. I hadn’t… thought much of it.”
Only every night since I overheard the prince talking to Cian.
“The prince means you no harm,” she says. “I wish you’d believe me.”
I wish I could too.
But, as kind and charming as he’s been, I can’t help feeling as though he’s watching me too.
He is the Prince of Evernight, after all, renowned for his ruthlessness. And he’s hiding something from me. They all are. Even Thalia, with her friendly smiles and her tray of food, is clearly seeking to placate me.
I don’t know who to trust.
Eris, perhaps.
She’s the only one not hiding her feelings toward me.
“Thiago’s going to contact the alliance tonight,” Thalia tells me, pausing by the door. “You may as well get some sleep, he said. He’ll see you in the morning.” She rolls her eyes. “Hopefully your dreams tonight are a little nicer than they clearly have been.”
No kiss.
I don’t know why that bothers me.
Every night, I’ve brushed the most perfunctory of kisses against his lips, and every night he’s merely watched me with those knowing, knowing eyes.
But she’s left me with much to think about.
“Hopefully,” I say.
“Until tomorrow then,” she calls, closing the door behind her and leaving me with the pressing silence of my suspicions.
And my lonely, lonely bed.
I dream of being hunted throug
h a vast, shadowy forest by enormous black hounds. Howls echo to my right, but when I bolt down a narrow trail, there’s a shadow snapping at my heels.
There’s no escape.
The Grimm and his hounds are on my trail, and I know I can’t outrun them. Breath panting, lungs heaving, I shove at the thorns that slash at my arms and clothes.
“Rest, Vi,” comes a whisper, and I swear I feel a hand brush against my cheek.
Another howl cuts in from the right.
They’re everywhere. The entire pack must be following me.
“No. You’re safe here. The hounds won’t dare follow you.” There’s a kiss to my forehead, and then the world starts to dissolve around me.
The forest starts to open up, and I can hear the hounds baying in the distance. They seem to be falling behind, and as I stumble into a sunny clearing, I fall to my knees and pant.
The Grimm only rides at night.
And he’s locked away in his prison world, trapped for all eternity. It’s just a dream. It has to be a dream. Except that one of the hounds looked like Baylor, and I don’t know how to tell him the truth.
“The truth?” This time the whisper sounds startled.
I sit bolt upright in bed, covered in a cold sweat. My heart is racing, and judging from the tangle of my sheets, I’ve been thrashing.
I could also swear I wasn’t alone.
There’s an indentation on the sheets beside me, and when I reach out to touch it, it’s still warm.
“Thiago?” I whisper.
Nothing moves. The breeze blows through the gauzy curtains by the window, but I’d be able to see something in the hazy moonlight, wouldn’t I?
Tossing aside the sheets, I search the room. It’s empty, but when I return to the bed, I can still feel the ghostly press of lips to my forehead.
He was in here, I’ll swear it.
And worse, he was in my dreams.
And now he knows.
18
The Alliance is planning to meet via astral projection.
It’s rare they meet in person—the rites only—and with tension lingering between several of the kingdoms, it’s probably a wise decision.
I hurry inside the enormous tower chamber that Thalia leads me to, steps slowing when I see the six enormous throne-like chairs set in a circle around the room. Five I can understand, but six?
In the middle of the chairs lies a floor of polished marble, inlaid with thousands upon thousands of bronze glyphs. Light streams down through a hollow circle in the middle of the ceiling, landing directly in the center of the circle.
Thiago gestures to the chair by his side. “Vi.”
I stare at it like it’s comprised of iron nails. “You want me to sit with the Alliance?”
Has he been drinking this morning?
“Yes.” A faint smile curls over his mouth. “Don’t you want to watch your mother turn an interesting shade of red?”
“Tempting as that may be… I would prefer not to draw her ire.”
“You don’t think you’ve already drawn it?” He gestures for wine, and Thalia begins pouring two cups. “Besides, you’re my witness. You’re the only other person who’s seen what is happening at Mistmere. They won’t believe me, but they can’t dispute that you’re not my ally.”
Oh, I see. “Now you’re throwing me to the wolves. I thought we’d sued for peace following the hunting cabin, but you were merely biding your time.”
“Sit, Vi. It’s just a chair.”
“You are merciless, and I shan’t forget this,” I tell him, sinking reluctantly onto the chair. “Check your bed tonight. You might find a nasty surprise in it.”
“If you’re anywhere near my bed, then it can only be considered pleasant,” he murmurs as the bell hanging in the tower above us begins to ring.
It’s a sign of an incoming guest.
The Queen of Aska forms right in the stream of light, her long dark hair looking ethereal in the silvery light of her astral form. She tilts her head to us, eyes locking on me and narrowing slightly, before she moves toward the chair to the left of me. “I assume you have due cause for calling a meeting.”
Queen Maren is the reason we ward ourselves at night with woven dreamcatchers over the bed. If the bells in the catcher tinkle, then it’s said that she’s tampering with your dreams. Sometimes, she’ll send her winged dream-spawn to seduce a sleeping soul.
“Cause enough,” Thiago replies coldly, slipping into the mantle of prince.
It’s interesting to note that he sheds that mantle with me. I hadn’t even realized that I was given insight into the inner workings of his mind, rather than dealing with this imperious bastard.
The bells ring again and the stream of silvery light misting in the center of the room turns into Lucidia, the Queen of Ravenal.
Her white hair is a shock of startling light in this ethereal form, and for a second I see a smooth oval face overlaid over her wrinkled features. A queen in her prime, as she must have been many, many years ago. Then she flickers and becomes the old crone I know.
Sinking into her chair, she curls her gnarled hands over the arms. “You had best not be wasting my time, princeling.”
“I don’t intend to.”
The bells ring again, and I can sense the tension in the room.
It’s either the prince’s ally, or an enemy.
My mother shimmers into view, and apart from my fireplace, it’s the first time I’ve been face-to-face with her, as it were, since she sent me here.
Enemy, then.
Adaia looks every inch a queen girding herself for war, clad in a long metallic dress created from scales of silver. Rings glitter on her fingers, and she’s wearing the Crown of Thorns as well as what looks like half a stick of kohl.
She glances at me, stiffens, then glances again.
One of the most enjoyable aspects of the prince’s court is the fact there’s no need to stand on formalities. I’m tired of being her pretty little peacock. Though I’m not Andraste, partial as she is to polished leather and practical braids. I do like pretty things.
The berry-colored tunic I borrowed from Thalia is my compromise. Beneath it, I wear tight black leggings and leather boots that are laced to my thighs. Adaia’s dagger resides in the sheath at my hip—her eyes light up when she sees it—and several heavy gold cuffs rest on my wrist. Thalia even gave me a circlet of golden thorns that I can wear as an armband.
“Please,” says the prince smoothly, gesturing to the remaining thrones. “Take a seat.”
My mother seats herself directly opposite him.
“This is Alliance business,” she says, ignoring me. “What is she doing here?”
“She’s my witness,” Thiago replies smoothly.
“Witness?” My mother smirks. “Do we dare trust her account, after she’s been with you for over a month? We all know how seductive you can be, how… convincing.”
My eyebrows rise. How little she thinks of me, if she considers me to have fallen for his pretty face and charming smile.
I can sense him stiffening at my side.
“It’s not as though I’m the one who likes to toy with people’s minds,” he says, “and use them as pawns.”
“You should speak carefully of pawns,” she replies. “You were the one who bargained with her life. You were the one who began this.”
“And I will end it.”
My mother’s eyes blaze. “You little upstart. I look forward to finishing this. When my daughter stands by my side and watches you squirm on my hook, I will know absolute satisfaction.”
“I’m right here,” I say through clenched teeth. “If the pair of you would like to talk about me as if I’m not, then perhaps save it for later. We wouldn’t want to waste the alliance’s time.”
Queen Maren watches me with a considering look. Then she smiles. “The girl hardly looks beguiled, Adaia. How frustrating for you, Prince. You’ve barely managed to gain a foothold.”
“Patience holds i
ts own rewards,” he says.
I can’t help feeling as though I’m the bone thrown between a pair of snarling dogs. “Stop it. All of you. I am nobody’s pawn. And I will not be used to amuse you all.”
Silence falls.
Every single one of them stares at me as if I’m an amusing dog who’s performed a trick.
“The die was cast. The game begun,” Lucidia murmurs, “but now the players intend to make their own rules. It shall be interesting to see how this will end. I think… I will back the girl.”
“It’s all very amusing, but this is a waste of my time,” Queen Maren says. “Where is Kyrian? He should be here by now.”
We wait.
The bells remain silent, motes of dust shivering through the air.
“Perhaps he’s avoiding me,” says my mother, with mock sincerity.
“I cannot understand why,” Queen Maren murmurs.
The two share a smile.
“The request said midday,” Queen Lucidia growls. “You have ten more minutes of my time. I have important matters of business to attend to.”
And so, Prince Kyrian’s chair remains empty.
I can sense Thiago’s frustration. No doubt he hoped his one ally would be here to stand at his side. In a realm filled with queens, the pair of them are considered brutal upstarts, and the three queens will be disinclined to believe him.
“The request was sent,” Maren says. “His absence speaks to his lack of care. Begin, Prince. We’re all dying to know what this mysterious summons is all about.”
Thiago wastes no time. He cannot afford to. “Angharad is trying to resurrect the Hallow in Mistmere.”
Queen Lucidia sucks in a sharp breath. “She wouldn’t dare.”
But it’s Queen Maren that leans forward with glittering eyes. “Have you any proof?”
“None beyond what I’ve seen with my own eyes,” he replies.
“So we’re to take your word for this?” My mother sneers. “The word of a prince who murdered his queen’s rightful heirs?”
“The word of a prince who dueled those heirs for his throne,” he corrects. “My word has been good in the past. Or are you calling me a liar?”
The pair of them stare at each other like cats contesting their turf.