Chapter Twenty-Nine Felicity

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Felicity

"T ELL ME WHAT IT IS you most desire, child."

"I don't want to be afraid anymore."

The lady cocks her head to the side and looks Jas over. "So that's all you want? Fearlessness?"

No. I want more. I want them dead. I want every one of Mordeus's cruel and mocking guards gone from this world.

She doesn't say the words, but the smile that curves the witch's lips says enough. Somehow, through Jas's mind—through the shields that she's worked so hard to build—the witch heard.

"I can give you everything you want," she says, "but this is strong magic you request. Stronger than anything the average witch could provide for you."

Jas hugs herself and rubs her bare arms. It's so cold in here. So cold and so dark. She hates the dark. "I can pay anything. Whatever it takes, I'll get the money. Just tell me the price."

"I don't need more money. I need better tools." She pauses, eyes assessing even in the darkness. "I need the Grimoricon."

Jas shakes her head. "I don't know what that is."

"Your sister tells you nothing? It's a large book of spells and enchantments sacred to the Faerie realm. The book itself is magical and holds the key to truly powerful magic. I cannot give you what you ask without it."

A book. Just a book to be free of this suffocating fear. "Where can I find it?"

"It's in the palace," she says. "For too long it was hidden in the Serenity Palace in the Court of the Sun, but your sister returned it to the shadow court as part of her deal with Mordeus when you were captured."

Yes, Brie said something about retrieving a book. A book that became a serpent and a little boy. A book that injured her.

It's been so long since Brie talked to Jas about the trials she endured during those weeks. She thinks Jas will break if she reminds her they're not in Elora anymore—as if it's not apparent every waking moment of every day.

"Bring it to me, and we will begin," the voice in the darkness says.

"That's it? Just the book?"

"The Grimoricon will have the information I need, but it won't be enough. I need a catalyst as well. I need the fae power that lives inside you. I need the magic that is lying dormant, the magic that is waiting for your eighteenth birthday. Bring me the book and surrender your power, your fae life, and I will make you a ring that numbs your heart. A ring that gives you death's kiss."

I wake in my bed at Castle Craige. The room is dark, but I know from the sliver of light coming from between the curtains that it's the middle of the day.

I try to roll to my side, and pain lances through me—bringing last night back to me in a rush. The cave, the demon, Misha carrying me out.

And Nigel.

I drag in a ragged breath as a sob breaks free. Nigel is gone.

"You're awake." The voice is deep and soft, and so soothing it can only belong to Misha.

I move tenderly as I roll to face him.

He's sitting at my bedside, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

As my eyes adjust to the dark, I make out his features—the worry twisting his mouth, the exhaustion around his eyes.

"You were in my head," I say. "How?"

He swallows. "It sometimes happens unintentionally when I form a connection with someone."

"But from so far away?" How did he know I was in danger? What else does he know?

"Who are you?" His words are so gentle that, at first, I almost don't understand what he's asking. There's a delay before my brain sends the bolt of panic through my blood.

"What?"

He leans farther forward and tilts his head to the side. Flames of rage dance in his eyes. "Who. Are. You."

I sit up in bed, and my entire body cries out with agony from the movement. I don't have to pretend to be afraid. I am. Misha may be kind, but he can also be hard and cruel. As king of his court, he has to be.

And while he may never be cruel to Jasalyn, there's nothing keeping him from exerting the full extent of his wrath on a girl pretending to be her.

"Misha, you're scaring me." Because I'm supposed to be Jas and Jas wouldn't run, I merely curl into myself. My body hurts so much, I couldn't run if I tried.

I came a breath away from death last night, but Nigel—

Misha pushes out of his chair. "Where's the princess?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm the princess. I am Jasalyn. You know me."

"Jasalyn would have never entered a dark cave alone. Jasalyn wouldn't ask my scholars for books on portal magic. She doesn't need my Hall of Doors." His fists ball at his sides. "I've been such a fool. How many signs were there? From the moment you arrived in my court and looked at me like..." He swallows. "I knew something was off, but I let you fool me despite all the warnings along the way—the witch on the coast, Lark's words about you not being in your true form. I twisted everything I heard into what I wanted . I let myself believe what I wanted to believe when the truth was right in front of me."

"Look at me. You know me." Terror racks my bones and makes my voice shake. Terror and something more... something like a cracking in the center of my chest.

I can't think about my heart right now. I need to focus on escape.

I should have insisted that we put safeguards in place, should have insisted the princess give me something to tell the king in the event that I was found out. He'll never believe she sent me in her stead. He'll never believe she wants me here. And now I'm as good as dead.

"Who. Are. You."

"Jas," I try once last time, but it's too late now.

"Liar! Tell me why I shouldn't kill you this very moment." Vines erupt from the floor, wrapping around my legs and pinning me to the bed, thorns biting into my skin. A flash of lightning illuminates the window and thunder rumbles low and angry in the distance.

"Please," I gasp. Tears well in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. "Please let me go."

"You're lucky I don't end you now," he growls. Stepping back, he scrapes his gaze over me in disgust. "You almost had me. I don't know how you did it, but you almost let me believe..." His eyes meet mine. The flames of anger have burned to embers, revealing the scars of betrayal. Heartache. I hurt him. Just like I never wanted to.

"Misha," I whisper.

"I am king, and you will address me as such."

His anger leaves me hollow. There's nothing but an echoing cave where my heart should be.

I'm falling for you too, I'm hurting too, I want to say, but my confession would make this worse.

The heavy steps sound on the stairs, and armored sentinels stalk into my bedchambers. He must've mentally called on them.

"You can spend your last days in my dungeon while I wait for the shadow queen to arrive. She'll have the opportunity to question you before we arrange for your execution."

"Please, don't." I close my eyes, trying to slow my spinning thoughts, trying to make a plan.

Misha's vines release me so suddenly I sag to the floor, only to be scooped up by the guards—one under each arm.

"Let me explain. I'll tell you everything."

He drags his gaze over me, lips twisted in obvious disgust. "No. I think I'll let you rot in my dungeon for a few days before I listen to more of your lies. We'll see what you have to say for yourself after sleeping with the rats."

The guards drag me to the stairs, my toes barely brushing the floor.

"Jasalyn's in trouble!" I shout.

The guards don't pause, and every step brings me closer to the dungeon and further from my opportunity to explain.

"She traded her immortal life for the kiss of death."

The guards freeze and turn me to face their king.

Misha scowls down at me from the top of the stairs. "Are you accusing the Unseelie princess of murder?"

"I'm saying she's in trouble."

"Says the creature who's been living in her skin."

"At her request!"

"More lies!"

"I'll open my mind to you—just look and see that I speak the truth."

"You must think I'm truly a fool if you expect me to trust anything I might see there now, after all your convincing lies and scheming." I can't name all the emotions I see flit across his face, but I know the final one when it tightens his jaw. Steely determination. "Take her away."