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6. In Pieces

The first rule of the curse is: never take off your mask.

Even scraps of a puzzle end up making sense when you stare at them for long enough. Even a shredded soul can go on living. When you're patient.

And I've been patient for my new pets to arrive more than anything else in this life.

The sceawere's murky undercurrent clears long enough for me to spy on each of the seedlings in their new rooms.

James Robert Collier is a quiet, responsible young man. Being one of twelve boys, I'm sure he's spooked by the silence. He stares at the ceiling with the covers up to his neck, homesick though he'd never admit it. He's probably too meek to become a true hunter, but with enough studies and force of will, he could make a decent weaver.

Mara Daniels is an aimless high school student with mediocre grades and dubious taste in men. She's still up, busy prying the thick makeup off her face. I'll be surprised if she lasts a month.

The both of them will draw attention away from the real treasure. Their combined, tepid powers confirm the not-so-discrete looks and whispers the High Fae exchanged this evening. This year might be the worst one yet…if it wasn't for the third.

Penelope Emanuelle Darcy.

Eighteen years I've waited for her. The delicate and refined taste of her magic—clover sprouts and cinnamon—is still thick in my mouth. And like any devil finally presented with something he craves, I'm tempted to swallow her whole. To let her glimpse at my true nature and see a piece of the old me reflected in her lime-green gaze. But that'd be stupid. Mindless.

A seed can be crushed in one bite. It can also be planted, watered, and cared for. That way, you get a tree. Then, you can pluck its fruits or chop it down for firewood.

But a tree takes time, and I don't have a lot of time left. A tree needs sunshine, and that's the one thing I'm not good at.

Given the current state of the Shadow Court, my decision to train Penelope with the others might prove difficult to justify, but I can't let her—or anyone—know how special she truly is. I almost scrapped the idea of training her a dozen times, but if she sprouts, her magic might be strong enough to buy me a chance.

One last chance.

The childish old-world legends about Faerie are probably to blame for the fact that she didn't touch her plate, and she'd covered the mirror in her room with her duvet to block my line of sight. I'd only have to reach my hand out to slide it off. I almost pay her a visit to lay the duvet back upon her sleeping form. That would send a clear message, but I don't want to show my cards just yet.

A part of me is tempted to make her life hell while another yearns to see her smile.

Doubts and regrets burn my chest, and I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep my mind from wandering a dark and dangerous path. Exhausted from all the schmoozing, I remove my hooded jacket and discard my mask on the bedside table. To my surprise, it feels lighter than it has in a long time.

The black fabric shines in the night, dark and deep as the bottom of a well, and I avoid my reflection in the golden-trimmed mirror.

I don't remember what it's like to feel whole. To get up without pain twisting at the seams of my sanity. To smile without an agenda and laugh in earnest. A terrible sickness has taken root in me—and my kingdom—because I trusted the wrong woman.

That won't happen again.

I will reverse the dreadful fate she inflicted upon me and save the Shadow Court. I will not let her take my dreams—be they nightmares or fantasies—away.

Nothing will get in the way of my duty. Not even a witty, flawless beauty like Penelope Darcy.

I've got new rules.

All work, no play. No distractions. And most of all, no exceptions.

Making an exception is what got me cursed in the first place. I can"t let anyone discover my secret. I've got to win that stupidly wretched bet and tear Darcy's kingdom apart, even if I have to chop her into little pieces and feast on what's left of her soul to achieve it.

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