Chapter Seven Felicity

Chapter Seven

Felicity

T HE M IDNIGHT P ALACE IS HAUNTINGLY beautiful, as if the Unseelie ancestors who built it centuries ago were trying to play on the rumors their enemy court had spread about them. That the Unseelie were darkness and nightmares. They were wicked and cruel. So they built a palace that would meld with the night sky, the crushed black quartz walls shimmering alongside the stars when the moon shines.

I half expected to be spotted by sentinels on my way here, but they must be searching for the princess elsewhere, because I don't catch any attention until I arrive at the gates. I lower my hood and meet the gaze of the males positioned there. Jasalyn gave me the names and descriptions of half a dozen sentinels who might be positioned at the gates at this hour, and I hold my breath as I nod to each of them. "Horice. Gilberd," I say. "Good to see you both."

Their eyes go wide, and they exchange a look. "Princess, what are you doing beyond the gates?"

Princess Jasalyn, the human girl who ranks second only to the great shadow queen, is missing, and the palace hasn't told a soul, not even their own sentinels.

I dismount and hand Horice the reins to my horse. "I needed a change of scenery."

He clears his throat, and they step aside for me. "Yes. Of course. We'll get a stable hand to take care of this mare for you."

I've never been to the Midnight Palace before, and I'm surprised to find how stunning the grounds are. I follow cobblestone paths through manicured gardens interspersed with torches I can easily imagine glowing after dark.

When I reach the palace, I enter through the servants' quarters, just as Jas instructed me to do, my boots thudding softly on the black-veined marble floor as I make my way deeper into the palace—past a bustling kitchen and a steaming laundry.

I continue down the hall and hesitate outside the small family dining room, where I was told I'd find the queen with King Consort Finnian. They're there with a female I don't know but who favors the Wild Fae king in coloring and bone structure. From the information Jas gave me, I'd have to guess she's Pretha, sister to Misha and one of the shadow queen's advisors and closest friends.

I hesitate at the door, taking a moment to register the tension in the room.

I can sense the queen's anguish. Her desperation.

She grips her fork, but her food is untouched, and there are dark circles under her eyes, as if she hasn't slept in the day and a half since her sister left the palace.

If I weren't so desperate for Jasalyn to do what my brother believes she can, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't take this risk. I am physically the princess, but with only a handful of her memories and the hour or so of information she gave me this afternoon, I fear her sister will see right through me.

I take a deep breath. "Abriella," I say softly, taking a step into the room.

Her fork clatters to the table, and chaos erupts in the room. Chairs groan against the stone floors as they're shoved back. Finnian stands, and Pretha presses a hand to her chest, relief washing over her fine features.

It's tempting to study the room, to stare in wonder at these people tapped to be the queen's inner circle, but I keep my focus on the queen. She has tears in her eyes, and her bottom lip trembles. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

The queen stands. "Leave us. I need to speak with my sister alone."

Pretha gives me a pitying smile. "I'm glad you're safe," she says before gracefully floating from the room.

Finnian whispers something in the queen's ear.

She nods and whispers, "I know," squeezing both of his hands.

When he leaves, he doesn't give me the pitying smile that Pretha did, and he doesn't scowl the way I sense he'd like to, but the look in his eyes is somehow a combination of pity and anger. I'm grateful that Jasalyn is the type that would bow her head to avoid holding his gaze, because dropping my eyes to the floor is a relief.

While the tap of their steps grows ever more distant, I wander to a small sitting area by the windows and lower myself onto a settee, looking out at the gardens glowing in the evening sun.

Only when the queen's ragged sob rips into the silence do I turn. She's kneeling at my feet, head bowed.

The shadow queen is on her knees, bowing before me.

My insides quiver with nerves.

"I should have listened to you," she says, her voice small, even though her presence remains so powerful, "and I didn't. I need so badly for you to see things from my perspective that sometimes I forget that you need me to see them from yours."

When she lifts her head, tears roll down her pink cheeks. I don't know this female save for the few memories I have of Jasalyn's that she's been in, but the raw hope in her eyes cuts through me. This is why this once-human queen has become so quickly beloved by so many of her subjects. That unconditional love she feels for her sister is the same she gives to her court. I can see how easy it would be to follow her, and I'm a little envious of the shadow fae for having such a leader. Elora has a long way to go before we can even hope to have anyone this honorable leading us.

"I was so afraid I'd lost you for good this time," she says, her voice shaking.

I draw in a ragged breath. All I have to go on is the story Hale and his friends planted. I cling to it, but it's tricky to navigate. The truth is, there's no way to answer questions about the princess's secret faerie lover in a convincing way, because the princess would never have found herself with a secret faerie lover. "I'm sorry. I was... selfish. I panicked at the idea of not seeing him again."

"You didn't tell me you'd met someone." There's no accusation in her voice. Just sadness.

"I didn't want you to think you needed to protect me from him. He's not royalty, only a baker's son."

She squeezes her eyes shut. "You've fallen for him," she says matter-of-factly.

I flick my gaze up to meet hers for a beat, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a malcontent princess who's fallen in love with a commoner. "I didn't expect to. It just happened." I search the dozen or so of the princess's memories I've collected since first taking her form. I need to offer the queen something authentically Jasalyn. Something that will make sure she doesn't question my story. I swallow hard before I say it. I don't know the princess, but saying the words out loud feels like a betrayal of a girl I've only met once. "He's the first person since the dungeons whose touch didn't make my skin crawl."

She's quiet for so long that I lift my head. She's looking out the window, her face contorted in anger. "It's not that I didn't suspect you were struggling with physical affection, but I wish you had talked to me about it."

"And have you feel even guiltier for something that wasn't your fault?"

She lifts her hand to my cheek slowly enough that my heart aches for her. She's had to learn to withhold her touch from Jas, had to learn that it isn't welcome. "You are forgiven," she whispers.

When she finally touches my cheek, I close my eyes but make sure not to lean into it, and after a beat, I pull away and focus on my hands in my lap again.

"There are days that I want to go to the underworld and beg Mab to turn you fae now so you won't be so vulnerable," the queen says. "The only thing that stops me is knowing how much you dread the day you become what I already am."

I can't look at her. This is like eavesdropping on the most intimate conversation. The queen is baring her soul to me because she believes I'm her sister, and I hate myself a little for it. I hate that I can't ease her mind. I want to say I don't dread becoming fae, but I know dread is precisely what Jasalyn feels.

"I'm not as vulnerable as you think." It's the best I can offer, though I know it does nothing to ease the queen's heartache.

She sniffs and draws a kerchief from a pocket in her skirts. "You don't have to go with Misha. We'll find a way for you to stay here if that's what you really want. I just—"

"No," I blurt. I swallow, composing myself. I'm supposed to have a lover here—one I'm so distraught about leaving that I stole away for an extra night just to have more time with him—but I'm far too likely to be found out if I stay here. Let alone the fact that I need to be looking for a magical Hall of Doors in the Wild Fae Lands. "No, please. I've had time to think. And you're right."

"You're sure?" she asks.

I nod. "My friend... he wants me to go too. He said he saw bodies in a village north of here." I force myself to shiver, as if just remembering his description is upsetting. "He wants me safe."

Her lips curve, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I like that he's looking out for you. Even if it hurts that you never told me about him."

I don't want to dig into that, so I stand. "I should pack," I say, heading toward the door.

"Do I get to meet him at least?" she asks my back. "Your baker's son?"

I stop and study the floor. "No."

I can't even see her face, but I can feel the energy in the room shift as her heart breaks at that answer. "Why not? Are you ashamed of me?"

"I broke it off." I squeeze my eyes shut. I need the queen and everyone else in this palace to forget about my fictional love interest. If I don't make them let it go, they'll try to find him, and nothing good will come of that. Because now that I'm here, now that I feel exactly what the queen feels for her sister, I know she would do it. She'd make any random male a prince if it would make Jas happy.

"You truly believe I wouldn't let you be with the male you love?"

"It's better this way," I say, clinging to the brief answers Jasalyn prefers. "For both of us."

When I turn to face the queen, she's standing again, arms wrapped around herself. "You're sure about that? It's important that you can have someone in your life who you—"

"I'm sure." I point over my shoulder. "I'm going to get some things packed and then get a bath and some sleep."

"Jasalyn, while you're gone..." She grimaces. "You need to address your weaknesses, seek out your powers and—"

"I have no powers." Jas told me they might press on this and that this is how I should respond.

"They're there, Jas," Abriella says. "Just like they were there for me even before I turned fae. The more we get you to tap into them before your eighteenth birthday, the better off you'll be when that day comes."

I set my mouth in a belligerent line. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I want you to work with Misha and find out what they are. Just like he can teach you to block, he knows how to help you dig deep and find the root of your magic."

My magic is not one the faeries of this realm know, but if he starts pulling at strings, trying to prove to Jas—to me —that there's magic inside, he's going to find he's right. Even if he doesn't understand what he's seeing. I can't have that.

"Why?" I ask. "What's the rush?"

"You're next in line to the throne, sister." Never was there a smile so sad when someone spoke of another inheriting such power. "Mordeus will come for me, and if he's successful, the people of this court will depend on you. "