Within seconds, I caught on that they were trying to capture me alive, just as I was attempting to spare their lives. For once I was glad faeries were difficult to kill, because it meant I didn’t need to feel any guilt about cutting their throats open or stabbing them in the armpits, one of the few places where their armor left a sliver of flesh exposed.
At long last, I came to an abrupt, breathless stop. There were no more Guardians rushing in our direction—Belanor had finally figured out that sending them in small bursts was ineffective—but the rest of the mass had made their way closer while we were distracted. They’d moved around Belanor, almost obscuring him from my view.
My chest heaved as I comprehended the gravity of our situation. Now we were surrounded, in addition to being outnumbered.
“Stop making a spectacle, please,” Belanor called. “Surely you can see you have no chance.”
I didn’t react; I was too busy evaluating the others. No one in our party had been hurt. If we took on the horde fighting for Belanor, I knew that would change.
Laurie was already grieving for Morelli. Gil had lost his life once. There would be no more sacrifices tonight, not for my sake.
Very well, then, I thought with an audible exhale. I knew what I had to do next.
I looked at Laurie, and he looked back, his expression inscrutable as ever. Doubtless he still wanted us to surrender, but I didn’t need to think about it. It wasn’t an option, not even for the sake of survival. Belanor had already taken too much. He would not get any more pieces of me, however small they may be.
“Not to him,” I whispered, and my friend’s silver eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry.”
Thinking of how fast he could move—I had no way of knowing whether Laurie would protect his twin, when it came down to it—I turned back to the prince that we’d both vowed to kill.
I showed no mercy. Remembering every moment of pain, terror, and fury he’d caused me these past few days, I hurled myself into Belanor’s mind.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was effortless.
I’d braced myself for a mental battle, but I was met without resistance—Belanor hadn’t been guarded against me, probably because he’d thought so little of my capabilities. Until a few seconds ago, he’d still believed I was human.
All of that was about to change.
To his credit, Belanor recovered quickly. But it was too late. Just as he started to resurrect his mental walls, I tore into his secrets like the Leviathan used to cut through the water. I didn’t try to be gentle or subtle.
Every time I used my abilities, the workings of my own mind shifted. In a way, it was like arriving at a fork in the road. Where most people chose a path, I split myself into two parts and went down both. So, even though one half of me was inside Belanor’s head, the other half was still aware of everything happening outside of it. I saw his physical body stiffen, and suddenly, killing him wasn’t enough.
I wanted to be looking into his eyes as the light faded from them.
Without a word to anyone, keeping my mental claws buried in the Seelie Prince’s psyche, I began to stride forward.
Though I doubted any of the Guardians had guessed what was happening, they reacted instantly, shifting to defend their future king. Laurie’s friends leaped in motion, too, fighting back against the tide, shielding me as I walked. My feet made wet sounds against the ground, strangely loud in my ears amidst all the clashing swords and pained shouts. Only twice did I have to stop, once ducking a sword and the other to find my way around a wounded Guardian crawling over the ground.
I was nearly upon Belanor now. At some point during my invasion, the faerie prince had fallen to his knees. Guardians clustered around him, over a dozen swords pointing in my direction. Their minds shone at the edge of my own like lights on the water, and I reached for them without thinking.
Not so long ago, I’d learned my victim’s fears through touch. Now, I discovered, I could claim them with a single impulse.
Not only was I a Nightmare again, I had come back as a more powerful one.
There was no time to be disconcerted by the revelation. Flavors coated my tongue and frantic cries filled my ears as I returned my focus to Belanor. His guards had abandoned him, each one too preoccupied with what I was making them see. One thought he was being eaten alive by a grizzly bear; another was surrounded by a dozen giggling clowns. A path was open to the prince now, and he was also trapped in a haze of pain and disorientation.
I closed the rest of the distance between us. Belanor couldn’t see me, but I smiled down at him. He knelt on the frozen pavement, looking resplendent in his finery, the two halves of his face slack and dull. I didn’t touch him as I continued my unseen exploration. Not yet.
Disappointingly, the prince’s mind wasn’t as structured or impressive as others I’d seen—it was a typical jumble of moments and thoughts, interspersed with odd spots of darkness. The darkness made me uneasy, so I avoided it. As with most creatures, Belanor’s phobias were the first thing I encountered. He was afraid of pain, public humiliation, and small dogs. The flavor on my tongue was a revolting combination of lemons and… was it rotten eggs? No, that wasn’t right.
“Wait,” Belanor said out loud. His stiff voice sounded far away. Pausing, I blinked and focused on Belanor’s upturned face. I relaxed when I saw that his eyes were rolled back in his skull. It was actually pretty impressive that he’d managed to speak at all. Then he added, “Please.”
“That’s right,” I crooned, kneeling in front of him, so close that our knees almost touched. Knowing some part of Belanor would feel it, I buried my fingernails deep into his temples. All around us, the battle raged on. “Beg for your life. Beg for mercy as I did. But it didn’t help me… just like it’s not going to help you.”
I didn’t even give him the dignity of responding. Belanor’s gasp sounded in my ears as I went deeper, further into the dark, seeking what truly frightened this faerie. The things he saw in his worst dreams.
Within seconds, though, I faltered. There’s something back there, I thought. Something even darker than the gaps of emptiness and swirling shadow. I shied away from it, then turned away completely, too unnerved to explore it further.
I kept going, and soon I stumbled upon a different sort of memory. One that occupied a bigger portion of Belanor’s psyche than the others.
The moment I began to watch, I felt the truth within the very fibers of the images—this day was significant to Belanor, somehow. The air stank of fear, triumph, and awe, though I couldn’t determine which of these emotions were from the child or the adult version of him.
For this was a memory from his childhood, I realized instantly. I stood in the Nymphenburg Palace again, a silent spectator as Belanor and Laurie ran past in a rush of bright hair and wild shouts. A child who could only be Lensa was ahead of them, the skirt of her long dress flying. They were in a hallway I hadn’t seen before. Along one wall, flames quivered and spit in a fireplace of white marble. On the other side, beyond the three faeries, through the floor-to-ceiling windows, snow covered the ground and the sky was an austere, glittering white. Every detail was like something from a film.
I returned my attention to the scene playing out before me. Lensa had nearly reached the far doorway now, and Laurie was on her heels. Belanor pumped his small arms, breathing hard as he tried to catch up. But halfway down the length of the room, he tripped on the laces of his shoes. The young prince hit the hard floor, landing on his hands and knees.