Chapter Twelve Jasalyn

Chapter Twelve

Jasalyn

I TIGHTEN MY GRIP ON the Throne of Shadows and gaze out the windows and into the night beyond. The sky is dark and deep, stars glittering overhead, dancing around their crescent moon.

I should feel powerful. I should feel as mighty as the throne that rejects me. Mightier. But the crown isn't mine. I'm weak, and I cannot allow weakness.

"Does my king need anything else?" my servant asks, her dirty-blond hair falling forward and covering her human face as she bows her head. She's shaking. Shaking so intensely I feel myself smile.

I'm aware of the servants lining the opposite wall, aware that they watch my every move.

Fear. This is what I should inspire. Fear of mortals and fae alike. Because the throne should be mine. The crown should be mine.

"Indeed." I take her trembling hand and turn up her palm to study the soft, pink skin there. "You will bond yourself to me."

"I... I'm here to serve, my king." Her voice quavers. I relish the sound. The proof of my power. Relish the sight of her tears dripping onto the floor by her feet. "But, please, I do not wish to take the bond. Let me serve you in another way."

She won't look at me, so she doesn't see it coming when I whip out my knife and plunge it through her hand.

Her scream echoes off the throne room walls, rattles the window.

I lift my gaze to the servants behind her. Men. Women. Some cowering, some watching me like the wildebeest watches the lion. I pull the blade from the girl's hand and blood gushes onto the floor. She clutches it to her chest and her light blue gown blooms with red.

"Anyone who denies me that which I ask will suffer."

I extend my blade again, but the girl scrambles away this time. Laughing, I hold her in place with my magic.

"Watch as I demonstrate what happens when you don't serve your king."

I slice the blade across her face, then plunge it into her eyes. I relish her howl of pain, the way her body surrenders, limp in the face of her powerlessness. I will take my time. I will show them all the consequences of denying me.

"Wake up, Princess. We need to get moving."

Gasping, I bolt upright in bed, breathing ragged, half expecting my sheets to be covered in the blood of the girl from my dreams.

Instead, I see Skylar, who's climbed halfway onto my bunk to shake me awake.

"Oh look, she lives." She drops to the floor and starts throwing things in her pack.

It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

I wrap my arms around myself and rub my clammy skin. I can still feel the knife in my hand, can still hear the girl's scream echoing in my ears, can still remember how much I loved her terror and her pain.

That's not you. It's just a nightmare.

I hate when I dream of Mordeus, but these dreams—when I am him, when I'm the one doling out the torture instead of the one receiving it—these are worse. I liked it.

I sometimes think it's a coping mechanism—that my mind is processing my trauma from another angle to make sense of it. But when I spoke with a healer at the Midnight Palace about the dreams, hoping she could make them stop, she suggested that these dreams were an early manifestation of my unique magic. I didn't ask again after that.

"Sorry to break it to you, Princess, but if you're waiting for me to serve you breakfast, you're going to be sorely disappointed," Skylar says.

A lantern flickers beside her, and my glowstone illuminates the space around my bed. I squint toward the tiny window at the end of my bed. "It's still dark outside."

She doesn't look away from her pack. "You're observant."

"Kendrick said we were leaving at first light."

"If we're going to leave at first light, we need to be ready before first light." She tosses a pile of clothes onto the bed. "For you."

I rub a hand over my face, trying to wake myself up. It feels like I just closed my eyes. I climbed into bed right after leaving Kendrick in the hall. That should've been enough sleep, but my eyes are fighting to stay closed. The only reason I can find the strength to stay awake is because I fear returning to that dream.

While Skylar has her back turned, I strip out of my sleep clothes and spot a new scar on my hip. It's thin and curved and plunges me into memories of silver eyes locked on mine, a blade piercing my skin. Look at me, and I will take away the pain.

I relish the sight of the scar, cling to the reminder that I was the victim, not the one inflicting the torture.

But you enjoy killing his followers. You relish the moment life leaves their eyes.

Bile surges in my throat, and I shove away the unwelcome train of thought as I pull on today's outfit. It's a near identical match to Skylar's long-sleeved crop top, but mine is golden to her black.

"Did you sneak out to see Kendrick last night?" she asks.

I freeze while folding my sleep clothes then clear my throat. "N-no. Why? Did he say something this morning?" Does he remember? I can't decide if I hope he does or doesn't. I need my ring to work, and if Kendrick is immune to its powers, who's to say others might not be? But maybe part of me doesn't want to carry the secret alone anymore.

"He didn't say a word," Skylar says. She turns to face me and shakes her head. "I don't know. I just feel like I was alone most of the night. It's an instinct."

"Nope. Slept right up here. You can ask Natan."

She furrows her brow, frowning as if she knows I dodged her question.

I'm climbing out of bed when a soft knock comes at the door. Skylar cracks it open, and I know by her smile that Kendrick is waiting on the other side.

"Your princess wanted to sleep all day," she says.

I'd argue for the sake of my pride, but my yawn undercuts my retort before I can make it. I lean against the bedpost, letting it support my weight. Even my head feels too heavy this morning, and I just want to close my eyes for a few more minutes.

"Rough night?"

I force my eyes open and am treated to Kendrick's smiling face. He's so handsome with those clear blue eyes. And his smile makes warmth—

I straighten and clear my throat. "Just not feeling myself this morning." Instead, I'm feeling like a wicked king. I'm feeling like the male I'm determined to kill.

"She's used to the pampered life," Skylar says.

I don't bother arguing. Maybe she's right. Maybe I've gone soft in the last few years.

Kendrick is studying me, though, and there's nothing in his expression to indicate he agrees with her. I'm not sure I deserve the respect I see in his eyes. "Yesterday was a lot—physically and otherwise. You're okay?"

"I'll be fine. Just a slow start this morning." I bite back another yawn. "Any chance there's coffee?"

"There's no one working the kitchen downstairs this morning for some reason," he says. "We'll stop somewhere in a couple of hours."

Skylar grumbles something about the cruelty of waking before the sun and being deprived of coffee, and I can't disagree.

While Skylar heads into the hall to talk with Remme and Natan, I motion for Kendrick to stay back.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

I swallow. "About last night . . ."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. I know seeing Mordeus's supporters is going to upset you, and I wasn't about to make you finish your dinner when you were uncomfortable. I just hope you're not too hungry this morning."

"That's not what I was talking about."

He folds his arms, frowning. "Is this about the Elora Seven?"

He doesn't remember. "No... I mean, I'm still thinking about all that."

He nods slowly. "Well, you're still here, so I'm taking that as a good sign." He grins. "Anyway, we have the oracle on our side."

"Yes, but..." Maybe I shouldn't push the issue, but he was so unaffected by the ring, I need to be sure. "Did you go somewhere last night?"

He waves this away. "I needed to see if I could get any decent intel from those guys we saw in the dining room, so I pretended I wanted to join their cause and followed them to a captain's manor down the road."

"Did you see anything interesting while you were there?"

He shrugs. "Just the usual rebel machismo."

My heart twists. It shouldn't matter. I should be glad my ring works, glad my secret is still a secret and the magic is still intact.

"Oh, before I forget." He pulls a vial from his pocket and tosses it toward me. "You'll need to re-up your glamour before you leave the room this morning."

Frowning, I glance toward the door. How is it that they all already have their pointed ears and ethereal fae glow? "Did Skylar take hers while I was sleeping?"

"Nah, we've been at this for a while. We can handle bigger doses, so we don't need to take it as often."

"Oh." I fight my frown but can't help it.

He laughs. "What's that look for? Jealous that we get to chug more of that sludge than you?"

"It's not that." I shrug and study his ears, then his light blue eyes, which glow even in his human form but more so when he's glamoured. "I was just looking forward to seeing you as your human self each morning, I guess."

His face goes serious. "You really do hate the fae, don't you?"

"I feel like we've covered this."

"Time is running out for you to deal with it. You hit your eighteenth birthday without coming to terms with—"

"I should pack up." I shove him out of the room, close the door behind him, and sink to the floor. Exhausted on every level.

We weren't on the road by first light, and it was mostly my fault. It took me longer than I expected to load my pack, and by the time I reached the stables, the sun had already crested the horizon.

Now we're finally riding, but we don't make it past the high captain's manor house before Remme lifts a hand, indicating we should all slow down.

Then I see why. There are uniformed sentinels ahead, blocking the road. Beyond them, several children cling to their mothers' legs, crying.

"What's going on?" I ask, straightening in the saddle and trying to see what the guards are blocking.

Remme falls back, and Kendrick draws our mare beside his friend's while one sentinel breaks rank to approach us.

Kendrick flattens a rough hand against my bare stomach, and I suppress a shiver. "Let us do the talking, okay?" he murmurs in my ear. "Those are palace uniforms, and the last thing we need is them recognizing the princess's voice."

I nod. He doesn't move his hand. Instead, he pulls me closer, as if he's afraid this guard might try to snatch me away.

"Can't let anyone ride this way through the village," the guard says. "You'll have to go around."

"What seems to be the problem?" Kendrick asks. "You're a long way from the Midnight Palace."

"Her Majesty, Queen Abriella, has charged my squadron with investigating the mysterious deaths plaguing the court. This village is, sadly, the most recently afflicted."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kendrick says solemnly.

"How can we trust her to find the cause when she may be behind this?" a horned male calls from behind the guards.

"She sent her guard," a tall female beside him says. "What else do you want?"

"She could be doing more!" the horned male protests. "How do we know the queen isn't using the faceless plague to kill off her enemies? It was no secret that my brother and sister were no fans of the queen, and now look at 'em."

The child clinging to his leg whimpers. "I want my daddy."

"How many are among the dead?" Skylar asks.

"I'm not at liberty to reveal details at this time, milady. If you're concerned for your family, I recommend you contact them personally to make sure they're safe. We're advising everyone stay in at night. The curfew is voluntary for now, but ignoring it is hardly worth the potential consequence."

"Thank you, sir," Skylar says.

He bows his head before returning to his post.

"It's getting worse," Natan says. "If the queen has this many of her own guard in this location, it has to be getting worse."

"All the more reason to move quickly," Skylar says.

Frowning, I look back and forth between Kendrick's friends. "Why do you all care about someone killing fae? And what do you know about it?"

"Not enough," Natan says, turning his horse around. He leads this time, and Kendrick and I follow with Remme and Skylar at our back.

"It's all connected," Kendrick says when we're moving again. "Whether we want to care or not, ties were made between this realm and our own ages ago. Our priority is Elora, but trying to correct the problems there without digging into what's happening here is like trying to tend to a sick child while continuing to give him rotten food."

"I hadn't thought of it like that," I say.

His arm tightens around my waist again, in a brief squeeze that feels equal parts comforting and protective. "That's because they don't want you to."

"My sister isn't behind these deaths," I say, my eyes straight ahead but looking at nothing. "If she was killing traitors, she would own up to it."

"I didn't think she was," Kendrick says, nudging our horse to pick up speed.

But why would that male even suspect my sister? "Stop." I don't realize I'm speaking until the word's out of my mouth. A command even Natan hears. His eyes are wide as he looks toward us over his shoulder.

"We should get going," Kendrick says in my ear, his words only for me. "The last thing we need is palace guards looking too closely at you."

My sister has hundreds in her guard. None of those stationed inside the palace or assigned to my personal protection would ever be sent here. "Please?"

I twist in the saddle to get a look behind us just as a sentinel steps to the side to speak to another member of his team. My eyes land on the bodies beyond him and my stomach plummets. I recognize those clothes—the brown pants and olive vests, and the crescent moon tattoos. The insurgents from the captain's house .

I shake my head. "No." I took care of the proprietor and went back to the inn with Kendrick. I only killed the one, then I slept the rest of the night. Only the one.

And then dreamed of violence all night.

A guard notices us lingering, narrows his eyes, and steps forward. "Is there a problem?"

"Is it contagious?" Skylar asks, her tone so convincing I'm not sure if she's sincerely worried or just covering for me. "We ate dinner next to them last night."

I close my eyes and count my breaths the way one of my tutors at the Midnight Palace taught me. Their voices fade into the background as I breathe in for seven, hold for seven, exhale for seven. Breathe in for seven, hold for seven...

I don't open my eyes when we start riding or register the conversation around me when I hear my travel companions discussing the route for the day. I just breathe with my eyes closed and clear my mind of everything else.

When I'm calm enough to look around again, we're riding right into the morning sun and Kendrick's arm is tight around my waist.

He loosens his grip at my deep breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Sorry." All those fae are dead. All those fae are dead, and there's no sign of blood or brutality. Just death. Just like when the Enchanting Lady visits. And I don't remember touching any of them.

"I'll admit," Kendrick says, "it spooked me too—seeing death on their faces now when I was with them so few hours ago—but I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me."

I shake my head and try to focus on my surroundings—the low mountains in the distance, the trees on either side of this gravel road, the smell of crisp autumn leaves—pushing my mind to latch on to anything but the pale faces of those dead fae rebels.

"What do we know about this so-called plague?" I ask after we've ridden in silence for a long while.

"Not a lot," Kendrick says. "Enough to be cautious."

I squeeze my eyes shut and see that little girl clutching her uncle's leg. I want my daddy.

"I won't let anything happen to you, Slayer. The Mother has bigger plans for both of us."

I press my hand to my chest and feel the lump of the ring beneath my fingertips. "I'm not worried about that."

"Then what is it?"

"The ones we saw today were insurgents. Do we know if the others affected were too?"

"It's impossible to know. Unlike the idiots we encountered last night, most of Mordeus's loyal followers don't advertise their allegiance to a dead king."

I glance over my shoulder and meet Kendrick's eyes. "Dead? You don't believe the rumors, then?"

He grimaces. "I don't think it's impossible, just improbable. It's more likely that someone has something to gain from making Mordeus's followers believe he's been resurrected, and they started the rumor and are using it to their advantage."

" You have something to gain. That's how we're going to find this sword, right? Follow the path to Mordeus?"

"Indeed, but if I'm right and he's not really back, I suspect there's someone pretending to be him."

"Like a shifter?"

"A very good shifter," he says. "And, whoever he is, he'd be using his position to gather all of Mordeus's resources."

When I heard those males talking last night, I was sure Mordeus was back, but Kendrick's theory has me questioning again. Conflicting emotions twist inside me—relief that the male I fear most might still be dead, and regret that I won't get the only revenge that might heal this gaping hole in my chest.

Kendrick glances over his shoulder. "Natan! What can you tell us about the faceless plague?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Are Mordeus's followers falling more than others?" Kendrick asks.

Natan rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know, but I can find out for you. I'll ask Shae when we see him tonight. If he doesn't know, he'll know who to ask."

"Thank you," I say softly. I try to shift my thoughts to something else but can't. "I just don't understand it. They all seemed perfectly healthy last night."

"Are you so unhappy that their lives were cut short?" Kendrick asks.

"No, but..." I chew on my lip for a beat, trying to understand my own feelings on this. "The dungeons left me hard, taught me to hate like I never had before. In some ways, that makes me stronger, but I don't want to be someone who wishes death on swaths of my enemies." I don't want to be someone who relishes torture and death and power. I don't want to be him. "Perhaps the realm is better without them, and perhaps my sister's claim on the throne is more secure but..." But I'm afraid of what their deaths might mean. I'm afraid of who I'm becoming with this ring and even more afraid of giving it up.

"I won't judge you for having complicated feelings about it, Jas," Kendrick says, "if that's what you're worried about."

I bite the inside of my cheek until the pain makes the image of those bodies fade from my mind. "I don't know what I fear more. Being the na?ve child I was before Mordeus destroyed that part of me or being so cold and callous that I never again see the humanity of my enemies."

Or maybe my fear is that I've already become the second—that I don't need the ring to be cold and callous, but that I already was. Mordeus changed something intrinsic in me during my weeks in his dungeon, or I never would've sought out the ring to begin with.

"Humanity would imply they're human," Kendrick says softly.

"They had families. They had people who loved them. It's easy to forget that when they're drunkards raging against the queen."

"Maybe there's a little of both in all of us—na?ve child and callous enemy," he says, fingers stroking along my bare side in comforting circles. "And maybe the key is in never losing sight of either. We can have mercy without being na?ve, and we can be judicious while seeing our enemies as whole people."

I focus on the pleasant cadence of our horses' footfalls. "Do you ever worry that you tell yourself that you're those things—that you've struck the balance—but you're really fooling yourself? Do you ever worry that, at the end of the day, you're no better than them?"

"Yes," he rasps. He buries his nose in my hair and breathes in, as if my scent is the cleansing tonic he needs. "And I cling to that worry because it's exactly what separates us from them. The world isn't black and white, and when we fight evil, when we work for the common good, sometimes we find ourselves doing things that feel too much like the acts of our enemies. I wish it weren't so, but I find it's more often true than not."

"If we have to act like them, then how do we keep from becoming them?"

"We remember who we are and what we're fighting for. We put our cause before ourselves."

"Remind me what our cause is again?"

His chuckle is dry, as if he's not so much amused as trying to lift my spirits. "Elora. The future of Elora and the end of the ugliness and inequities there."

I nod, and for the first time, I realize maybe I need to care about this mission Kendrick's brought me on. Maybe the best thing I can do is make it my own, so I don't become like the faeries in Mordeus's dungeons. So I don't become the very thing I've traded my immortal life and every day after my eighteenth birthday for the chance to hunt.