She stands and beckons me onto my feet. “You must leave here now before my sisters arrive. Aer wants you in our land with as much vigor as she wants you gone from it. She desires to end him—her favorite Black Blood prince—just as much as she wishes to be you, Lara, and keep him forever.”
“Ether, please stop talking in riddles. I have no idea what any of it means. I’m so confused.”
“My sister mirrors your state, but for a different reason. It is confusing to love something as much as you hate it, a terrible curse to bear, in fact, and one of her own making.”
White palms are offered, and without thinking, I lay mine in them. Her grip tightens uncomfortably as her eyes roll back in her head. The ground rolls beneath my feet. Fire burns my vision. My blood turns to ice water, and wind wraps me in a tight caress.
“I see and hear you clearly.” Her voice ricochets off the walls. “You have a gift. And you must remember that here in Faery, music is magic, so wield your power wisely. And do not give in to fear, for the wind will take your troubles away.”
And with those cryptic comments, she pushes me out the door into the street.
I rub my arms and shiver. The afternoon has turned overcast, the dull pewter light darkening the stone walls of the city.
Shaken by the maelstrom of thoughts spinning in my mind—Mom, what she might have promised Aer, the curse, what kind of role I might have to play at the Court of Five—I decide I need to blow off some steam before I return to Magret. Calm down a little.
I walk briskly in the direction of the meadow Raff and I relaxed in yesterday, and as I travel through the town and amble past the garden walls, creatures stare but no one speaks or attempts to stop me. Not even the guards react when I stride through the meadow’s wildflowers and keep going until I reach the edge of the trees.
I wonder what creatures live on this side of the unexplored forest?
As I enter the shelter of alders and beeches, the pound of hoofbeats drums the ground, its rhythm reminding me of a song I can’t recall the name of. It distracts me from noticing how dim the light is growing until it’s too late, and I see a black horse galloping through the meadow, a blond rider leaning low over its neck.
Ever has returned.
Within seconds, Jinn slides to a stop in front of me, puffing and snorting while his rider wheels him around me in a tight circle.
“Stop,” I yell. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“If I was, I assure you there are infinitely slower and more satisfying ways than letting Jinn trample you to death.”
Gold hair streaming around his shoulders, he’s dressed like a warrior, his breastplate covered in buckles and straps. One shoulder is clad in copper-colored armor that runs down his biceps in layered panels, the other arm wrapped only in hard muscles and golden skin, his legs clad in leather breeches.
He’s dust-covered and furious but appears uninjured, and I note with a secret smirk that no bride is cowering in his arms or strapped to Jinn's saddle. No wonder he’s mad if he’s returning from another failed hunt without his queen.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he thunders, pulling Jinn up hard.
Anger vibrates inside me, threatening to explode out in a childish scream. I’m well aware I should be winning him over, sweetening up the prince who holds my future in the palm of his calloused hand. But his voice, the arrogance of his bearing, his haughty expression—they won’t allow me to be nice to him.
“I’m taking a relaxing stroll before returning to work,” I say, a challenge in my tone.
“And do your strolls normally involve rolling in the mud? You look like a common ballybog.”
I have no idea what that is, something gross, no doubt. “If I have been playing in the dirt, that’s entirely my business.”
“I have only just arrived home. On my way to the Great Hall, Jinn nearly bowled over our High Mage lurking on the streets. She spun a tale that I found difficult to believe, a story of your venture into the forest. Alone.”
Remaining silent, I hold his grim gaze.
“You were attacked by draygonets,” he booms.
I see no point in denying it. “What of it?” If he knows about the moss elves too, it’s best to pretend I’m not concerned about the consequences of being caught. Maybe he’ll throw me outside the city gates, and I’ll be left to stumble around in search of a portal while trying not to get eaten by horrible fae beasts.
The sky shudders, blanketing us in total darkness for three full seconds. My hands twist the fabric of my tunic.
“Why would you leave the gardens when you are forbidden to wander? Perhaps you think yourself a guest here, welcome to explore our kingdom as you see fit. Well, you are not a guest. Far from it. You exist in our lands under my sufferance. Your very life hangs by the gossamer thread of my forbearance. Wear that out to snapping and see what happens to you, reckless human.”
“Maybe I just wish you’d hurry up and get it over with, nasty Prince of Never. You’re not my lord, or my king, or my anything. And you never ever will be.” I cringe at how immature I sound. His mere presence brings out my inner child—the impulsive, rebellious one.
Smoke practically billows out his nostrils as he whirls his stallion to face the castle. “Do not think to test my patience, human. I promise you will not enjoy the outcome.”
Even though I know it’s foolish to taunt him, I spread my stance and cross my arms. “So, now you’re back, are you and the queen getting ready to murder me and put me out of my misery?”
“Not as yet,” he says as an unruly wind swirls around me. Jinn rears high, forelegs pawing the air. Remaining perfectly balanced, Ever pulls him around in a neat circle.
“We have something far worse planned for you. In three days, you will serve at a banquet feast with the Merits in attendance. After all, you are already trained in the fine art of waiting upon others. If the Merits are pleased with you, we may even allow them to take you home.”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I know you can’t wait to be rid of me.”
He doesn’t confirm or deny my accusation, only sneers at the mud-streaked skin exposed through a rip in my tunic as though I’m the world’s most disgusting slob. Pardon me for not being wonderful to gaze upon. What does he expect a garden slave to look like?
“Yah!” he yells, the jerking motion of his body springing Jinn into action and frightening the bejesus out of me.
Dust clouds spin as the horse speeds Ever away, no doubt to some lush boudoir fit for a cruel prince to kill time in before his next important bride-search expedition. Bride Search Expedition. It sounds like a reality TV show—one I wouldn’t watch if he was starring in it.
Anyway, good riddance to domineering jerks.
I hope he enjoys himself.
Actually, I hope he chokes on mulberry wine.
Chapter 11
STRATEGY
Ever
After I submit an agonizing report on my latest failed bride-mission to the queen, I return to my rooms alone to bathe and eat dinner. Try as I might to extinguish it, the human’s angry, dirt-smeared face haunts every flicker of candlelight, every shadow that dances over the murals and tapestries lining my chamber walls.