A moment later, I found what I was looking for—a myriad of memories were grouped together, all of them practically sang with terror. I darted through each one, absorbing the images and truths they held as quickly as possible. Every memory shared a common denominator: Laurie.
I felt myself smile as I realized the heir to the Seelie throne did have a weakness, and it was so obvious that I should’ve discovered it sooner. His greatest fear was one he’d lived nearly every day of his life, explaining why there were so many memories clustered here.
Above all else, Belanor dreaded being compared to Laurie… and coming up short.
I didn’t hesitate. Not anymore. For the first time since regaining my powers, I brought someone’s darkest fear to life, and it was as easy as taking a breath.
I didn’t insert myself in the illusion, as I had done with Nuvian once. No, this time I wanted my victim’s horror to be pure, untainted, a feast of panic and unadulterated belief in what was happening. So when Prince Belanor Dondarte opened his eyes and found himself in Stone Hall, he couldn’t see me. He only saw the pieces of information I’d gleaned from his mind, using his secrets against him just like he had used mine.
Belanor looked around with a frown. He knew something was off, but everything seemed to be in its place. This was another one of his mother’s parties. He could remember seeing the cleaning staff earlier, scrubbing the floors of this room. He could still taste the glass of wine he’d had in his rooms in an effort to prepare himself for the inane chatter ahead, just before he put on the tail coat, trousers, dark waistcoat, white bow tie, and winged-collar shirt he now wore. The height of fashion, Belanor thought bitterly, and yet Laurie had outshone him for the millionth time by going against the grain and wearing a red jacket.
As per usual, no one could take their eyes off his beloved brother.
Belanor positively loathed these things. But Mother was trying to make nice with a powerful band of water nymphs from Brazil, and she wanted the royal family to present a united front. Since she was the one who would protect him once Laurelis took the throne, he needed her to remain fond of him.
The thought made Belanor sneer, and he ducked his head down to hide it. United front, indeed. Mab had requested his presence, and yet it was Laurelis who stood at her side, making a point of speaking to every dignitary or ambassador. Charming the courtiers with his silver tongue. Belanor caught the gleam of Laurie’s perfect teeth as he laughed. Watching him, the younger Dondarte brother felt the usual stab of envy.
He’d put in enough time, Belanor decided. His presence had been noted by several guests and Mab had given him a brief, tender smile, her way of silently thanking him for attending. Before he could slip from the room, though, a figure sidled up beside him.
It was Iris, although she was vastly younger in this memory. When I’d met her, the witch had looked like she was in her late twenties. This Iris could’ve passed for sixteen years old. Her skin was as smooth as a pearl and her green ballgown hugged a smaller body. She was Belanor’s lover, I realized, the knowledge coming to me easily now. No wonder she had been so rough and cold during our interactions—she’d probably resented his obsession with me.
Ironic, considering that Belanor had always been afraid that Iris was secretly in love with Laurie, as everyone else was at their Court.
He’s almost making this too easy, I thought.
Without a word to the prince, Iris turned and walked away, following the command of my magic. Belanor gritted his teeth, irritated that others may have seen Iris’s departure as a spurn toward him. He knew if he left now, as he’d been planning, it almost certainly would.
Belanor’s irritation gave way to disbelief as his lover threaded through the guests, stopped at Laurie’s side, and tucked herself against his side. She stood on tiptoe to skim her lips along Laurie’s cheek, his neck, the corner of his mouth. He didn’t pause in his conversation with a blue-skinned female wearing a gown made of seashells, but he did put his arm around Iris’s waist. After a moment, the witch turned her head and found Belanor again. There was an exalted gleam in her eyes.
She didn’t say a word, but the curl to her lips conveyed everything. You are nothing to me.
Belanor’s nostrils flared. I heard the roar of pain in his head, felt it in his chest. Seeing the two of them together, he couldn’t help feeling as if Laurie was a bright flame and he was the ashes left behind. That was how it had always been. But not how it would always be, Belanor promised himself desperately.
Hearing this, my smile returned. Wrong again, I crooned to him.
Belanor stiffened and his eyes widened. I didn’t give him a chance to react, and in the next moment, Mab materialized behind him. Belanor sensed her and spun, opening his mouth to warn her away. But then, in the space of time between rapid heartbeats, everything in the throne room shifted.
Everyone was facing in one direction, and Mab stood behind Belanor now. They were in the middle of the crowd, facing the enormous wall of windows. It felt like the breath caught in my throat when I saw what they were looking at.
Laurie sat on the throne.
He was… magnificent. There was no other word for it. The sun shone behind him, casting streams and ribbons of light in every direction. It bounced off tiles and jewelry, lending the room even more iridescence. This, I knew, was how everything had truly looked on the day of his coronation—after all, I was only using the imagery from Belanor’s head. Laurie wore a suit of white and gold, so decadent, so ridiculous that it shouldn’t have looked good. But with his silver hair and strong shoulders, it worked. A crown of silver antlers adorned his brow. He gripped the armrests lightly, his hands loose and still. Rings gleamed on his fingers.
“I love him more than you,” Mab purred in Belanor’s ear. He darted a glance at her, but his mother’s vivid green eyes were fixed on Laurie, making it impossible to misunderstand who she meant.
Six words. Six short, simple words, and they had the power to send a crack through Belanor’s mind as a rumble of horror and pain shook the very foundation of his being. They were the exact words he’d always dreaded. If I were feeling charitable, I might have told him that the truth was just the opposite—Mab loved Belanor so much she hadn’t kept enough for her other adopted children.
Unfortunately for Belanor, I wasn’t feeling charitable.
He stood there, staring at the apparitions of his worst fears. Laurie, Mab, and Iris didn’t even bother to look back at him. That was when I finally appeared in front of the crumbling prince. He stepped back, startled. I allowed him to recognize me as I stepped close and smiled into his eyes.
“Again,” I whispered.
Then Belanor blinked, and I was gone.
He looked around with a frown. He knew something was off, but everything seemed to be in its place. This was another one of his mother’s parties. He could remember seeing the cleaning staff earlier, scrubbing the floors of this room. He could still taste the glass of wine he’d had in his rooms in an effort to prepare himself for the inane chatter ahead, just before he put on the tail coat, trousers, dark waistcoat, white bow tie, and winged-collar shirt he now wore.
Still smiling, I removed myself from the illusion. I blinked hard once, twice to realign the parts of myself that had briefly separated. When the world solidified, I saw that Belanor was on the ground now. He stared up at the night sky, his eyes hollow, his mouth open in a silent scream.