The imposter let out a delicate laugh. “Goodness, no, nothing so dramatic as that. When we were children, Laurelis and I had an inattentive nanny. She wasn’t there to save me when I fell into a fireplace, and the damage went so deep that I wasn’t able to fully repair it. The healers could only ease my pain and quicken the scarring process. My mother has always called it ‘a touch of divinity.’”
It was never a good sign when the bad guy made a reference to his mommy right off the bat.
Knowing I couldn’t afford to be slow anymore, I recovered quickly from my shock. The chains rattled with every movement as I eased away from the headboard and looked at the faerie with a cool expression—my time as the Unseelie Queen hadn’t been a total waste of time, at least. I was better at playing their game now.
The thought made another memory pop into my head. Sometimes it’s not about being stronger. It’s about being smarter.
I shied away from thinking of Oliver, but his advice was just as applicable now as it had been then. Without the strength of a Nightmare, I really would need to be smarter if I planned on saving myself.
“Who are you?” I asked despite the unlikelihood of getting an answer. I had a dozen more questions after this one, which meant my bladder would have to wait.
This faerie was full of surprises, because he didn’t hesitate to say, “You may call me Belanor. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Laurelis is my older brother. Well, older by an hour, but that hour was all it took for him to claim the throne.”
You have got to be kidding me. In that instant, I wanted nothing more than to throttle Laurie. It might have been helpful to know he literally had an evil twin. “I wasn’t aware he had any siblings,” was all I said.
Belanor smirked. It was so similar to Laurie’s that I blinked. “It seems you were not very close friends, if Laurelis didn’t bother telling you about us,” he remarked. “Our parents had three children between them. Five, if you count the ones that died.”
To be fair, I’d never asked Laurie about his family or his past. The realization sent a pang of shame through my painfully mortal body. He knew my darkest secrets. He’d sacrificed what he valued most so I wouldn’t have to. He had comforted me in my darkest moments. And yet, in spite of everything Laurie had done for me, I’d never bothered to learn a single thing about him. If I ever escaped this place, I would remedy that.
One thing at a time, I reminded myself. “What is this place? Where are we?” I asked next.
A knock interrupted us. The sound was slow and booming, as if whoever struck the wood didn’t know their own strength. I half-expected a long crack to form.
“Enter,” Belanor called. The dog had lifted its head again, its ears perked. The door opened, and an enormous male stepped over the threshold. He wore thick, medieval-looking armor, complete with a helmet that thoroughly hid his face. The dog laid back down, clearly familiar with this formidable-looking guard. Belanor’s tone was brisk as he said, “Ah, Fende. Excellent. You may begin.”
I stiffened, but the new faerie didn’t come toward us. Instead, he turned and strode to the fireplace. He was so heavy that his footsteps echoed in the near-empty room. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Or, more accurately, the sheer size of him—Fende was even bigger than Death Bringer, the resident torturer at the Unseelie Court.
I was so preoccupied that I almost missed the things he carried in his gauntlet-covered hands. Was that a poker? There was something at the end of it, but Fende turned his back before I could get a better look.
Suddenly there was movement in the corner of my eye. Still wearing a bland expression, and trying to keep my heart rate steady, I turned my head. A smaller figure had entered behind Fende. She carried a silver tray in her small hands and kept her gaze downcast. Though she appeared healthy, with a clean sheen to her brown hair and curves beneath her well-made clothes, I looked at her and thought, Slave. It was in how she moved, somehow, and the way she wouldn’t lift her eyes. Belanor furthered this theory when he didn’t acknowledge her.
Now that I was human, it struck me that I had fewer ways of knowing whether someone was Fallen or not. The woman appeared mortal, due to her rounded ears and the lines beneath her eyes, but she could very well be a witch or some other species that aged. I kept staring at her, as if I’d regain the ability to detect power the harder I looked for it. Once again, I experienced that painful sensation of something missing.
Without a single glance in my direction, the woman set the tea service down and backed away, her small hands clasped against the front of her wool skirt. She walked backward until she reached the doorway, and then she was gone, leaving me frustrated and shaken. I hadn’t realized how much I relied on my Nightmare side all these years. Dad would’ve had a lot to say about that, since he had taught me how to defend myself in nearly every situation.
Bet you couldn’t have predicted this one, Dad. The thought made my heart hurt, and I quickly refocused.
As the armored giant began building a fire, Belanor went about making himself a cup of tea. Moving as if his bones were made of liquid, he poured hot water into his cup. Stream rose into the air. The curve of his wrist was so pronounced. Breakable. I hadn’t given much thought to Laurie’s age, but watching his brother, I suspected they came from a time of refinement and propriety.
“Physically, we are in Germany,” Belanor said abruptly, answering my question at last. “More specifically, the Nymphenburg Palace. It once belonged to a king—his summer home, I believe. Now, in the human world, tourists roam the halls. The Seelie Court does not exist in a separate dimension, as the Unseelie Court does, but a powerful spell protects the grounds.”
I was having trouble listening; my attention kept going to Fende. I couldn’t see the specifics of what he was doing, but I could hear small sounds. The dull thud of wood. A click. The creak of his heavy armor. My survival instincts were even louder as a human, and they hissed like a nest of rattlesnakes. Danger, danger. But the chains around my wrists held fast and I couldn’t use fear as a defense anymore. I needed to get more out of Belanor, because right now, information was the only weapon at my disposal.
“You said that you plan on making me a Nightmare again. Even if that were possible, why is it so important?” I asked, forcing myself to concentrate.
The faerie prince had finished preparing his tea. He sat within a slant of daylight, legs crossed, holding the delicate handle of a cup between thumb and forefinger. In that moment, with those puckered scars and his sharp-edged suit, Belanor Dondarte looked like a living painting.
The thought filled my head with memories of Oliver.
It used to be one of our favorite rituals—I’d see something in the real world, a moment so striking that I could describe it in vivid detail even after falling asleep. Oliver would produce a new canvas and place it onto his easel, which appeared wherever we were. Inside the cottage, at the cliff’s edge, beneath our oak tree. His expression became distant as he listened to the cadence of my voice. Each time, without fail, I got lost in his beauty while he was lost to the brush strokes. The colors. The glimpse of a world he could never experience for himself.
I’d never watch my best friend paint again.
It felt like something had viciously jabbed my heart, and I started to put my hand over it, remembering belatedly that I was still chained to a bed. Belanor watched the play of emotions across my face with an air of mild interest, and I struggled to shove Oliver back in the shadows. Flames crackled into the stillness.