Why? I have no idea, but her image infuriates me, and my inability to banish it spoils even the simplest of pleasures. The bath water is too cold, then too hot. The baked fish and wild berries, bland and barely edible. The wine is sour. My skin itches.
Tamping down anger, I dress for a meeting in the queen’s council chambers to discuss the Merits’ imminent visit, each movement stiff and clumsy.
Long have I dreaded finding the mate Aer has chosen for me underneath the Crystalline Oak. But yesterday at dawn, as I watched the amber moon rock in the tree’s branches, I wished her body would materialize out of the mist. I yearned to act swiftly and destroy her, ridding myself in one gruesome deed of the queen-who-never-will-be.
Of course, if I kill her, I’m guaranteeing myself a slow and painful death, which I can face if it thwarts Aer’s plans for revenge upon our line. But then the curse will likely pass to Raff after my demise, and that idea gives me nightmares.
When Father died, the black blood passed to my brother Rain. When Rain died, it passed to me. So it follows that, if I let it kill me, it will infect Raff. Therefore, to save Raff, I should find my chosen mate, become king—and allow the curse to swallow my sons after me.
This leaves me with an impossible dilemma. I must decide who I value more, my brother or my future sons. The thought of choosing either, disgusts me.
And Aer. Aer teases and hints that the curse may one day perish along with an heir—just not which heir or when. If there was a way to end her, the savage Sorceress of the Seven Winds, then that is the choice I would make.
To snap her neck.
Break her body.
Collapse her lungs.
With a grimace, I strap on a sword, a dagger, swig a last mouthful of bitter wine, and proceed to climb a spiraling staircase to the war room, three guards falling in line behind me. As we ascend to the top of the highest tower in the kingdom, each clomping step at my back rattles my bones. Without their escort, does the queen fear I won’t attend?
“Leave me,” I tell the blank-faced soldiers when I arrive, then push open the heavily carved doors.
The room is empty save for the furniture—a massive table, seven chairs, and a long sideboard groaning under the weight of three silver trays bearing figs, baked delicacies, and sweetmeats.
I flash my palm at the gaping fireplace, smoldering logs fanning into vigorous flames, the wall torches glowing brighter. Door hinges groan, brisk steps sound, and I keep my gaze fixed on the fire.
“What a surprise to find you brooding on the mantel,” announces Kian, crossing the floor at speed, his bouncing locks brighter than the flames. His hair is orange, and the wasp’s is dark red.
Like me, he wears a belted tunic over dark leather breeches, the rich shade of red clashing with his hair. My gold-embroidered tunic is of midnight blue and there are lethal, silver spikes pointing from my arm bracers and high collar. Out of the two of us, I look better.
In the deep larkspur blue of Kian’s eyes, trouble brews. With his hostile greeting delivered in a false jovial tone, he hopes to wind me into anger. Force me to lash out. Refusing to give him any satisfaction, I wipe my face of all expression. I don’t wish to hurt him. He’s my oldest friend. But his love is corrupt and toxic.
Saying nothing, I search his face for clues to what is coming next.
“You have returned in even fouler spirits than before you left.” He leans a casual elbow on the mantle beside me. “I cannot guess if that means you succeeded and found your fated queen or not, Ever.”
He knows very well I haven’t. If I had, the city would already be ablaze with celebrations.
“Once again, no girl was lying under the oak tree waiting for my noble notice,” I mock.
Lips not even quirking, he inclines his head, which tells me he didn’t catch my sarcasm. As usual, he is practically immune to it.
“And this is the first you’ve seen of me since I returned. Why do you judge my mood in a single glance?”
He nods at a mass of skeletal birch branches rattling against the council chambers’ high windows, the sky behind them as turbulent and black as the scowl I’m wearing.
“Does dallying with the human not please you?”
“What? I have not bedded any humans.” Now I know the game he plays, I guard my words more closely. “And as far as that particular one is concerned, my strongest desire is to watch her bedraggled form depart our city forever.” This is true, but perhaps not for the reason I imply.
“Oh? If it wasn’t a tryst, then why did you ride like the wind to meet her in the forest when you returned?”
Damn Kian and his spies.
“It was not. My aim was to punish her. She left her work and wandered into the woods without permission.”
“And did you deliver your punishment?”
The air crackles as I catch his gaze and hold it—but let silence burn between us.
“I thought as much.” He pushes away from the fire and swipes a shiny apple from a food platter, tossing and catching it over and over. “Early this eve, she was seen dining with the servants in the kitchen. Apparently, she was having a wonderful time, laughing with her many new friends. According to Lord Gavrin, she looked hale and happy. Your punishment must have been very mild indeed. Or did you chastise her in a more pleasurable way?”
Wood crumbles beneath my nails. “She is human, a plain one at that.”
“And?”
“And I hardly care what she does as long she does it far away from me,” I say between gritted teeth, immediately realizing it contradicts my reason for following her into the forest in the first place.
He gives me a long look, then strolls around picking up items for a quick inspection before discarding them and moving on to the next—a map, a writing quill, crystal geodes, cheese that someone else must eat.
“Whatever you say. If it is not the girl who sours your mood, then maybe when we drink together after this tedious meeting, you will explain why so many storms and tempests have plagued us since her arrival.”
I sigh. Kian will pile my chambers full of courtiers tonight, and I would rather sleep than entertain them.
“I’ve hardly been home since she arrived. Your thoughts are misguided.”
Combing long fingers through his hair, he says in a casual tone, “Well, then, it’s fortunate you are unimpressed with the girl because as rumor tells it, she calls you Never. Never would. Never will. Never shall she look upon you with favor.”
My laughter is a hollow sound. “You believe that hurts my feelings? You of all people should know I don’t have any.”
“I would never presume to understand the workings of your mind, old friend.” He throws me a light smile, then stops beside me, leaning close. “But if you do not desire the mortal brat, then I think I’ll take her for myself.”
Narrowed slits, my eyes cut to his. “What do you mean?”
“You know very well what I intend. She will spend tonight in my chambers. And I will make her smile and dance and moan until the sun rises.”
Images flash. The girl’s dirt-smudged face. Her ripped work tunic. The fragile skin beneath it. Her body so weak and human. I try and try but cannot push the pictures away.
Finally, I say, “She’s a prisoner here, Kian, and doesn’t like our kind. What you wish for would require force.”