Chapter 15

W hen I emerged from the bathing chamber Brynja leaped up from the stool she’d been sitting on.

“Your clothes, my lady.” She swept an arm out at three dresses spread across the bed.

My lips parted in surprise as I looked at the garments. “Those…” I looked up at her. “Those are for me?”

She nodded. “You are the Prince’s betrothed.” She bit her lip, a strange look in her eyes.

“I understand you may need to behave a certain away when we are around the fae, but you can be yourself with me,” I told her.

Her shoulders relaxed. “My lady, I have never seen clothes as nice as what’s in that wardrobe. My family would eat for years on some of the gowns alone.” She gazed adoringly at a lavender-colored gown covered in intricate black lace netting. I leaned closer, and saw that the pattern in the lace was skulls. I moved back.

“Dresses fit for Shadow Court royalty,” I muttered. For a moment I considered refusing to wear them. The thought of wearing anything from the Shadow Court, or even fae, made my skin crawl. But when I pictured being dragged down to dinner in thrall workshop-leathers, I realized that didn’t further my goal to fit in and keep us safe. It would only draw more attention to how utterly preposterous the whole situation was.

A fae Prince betrothed to a human slave.

I shook my head. “Is there anything without skulls on it?”

“There are some with thorns. And lots with ravens.”

There was a tapestry of a raven over the mantelpiece, and I glanced at it. “Did I see a raven on the door to these chambers too?”

Brynja nodded. “I haven’t been here long enough to know why, but I think there is something to do with ravens and the Prince’s siv .”

I swallowed at the word siv . Ancient language for bride. “I’ll add it to my long list of questions about this place.”

Brynja helped me into a corseted dress in sage green that went well with my copper hair and amber eyes. It had a low square neckline and the ribbons in the back were pulled tight, forcing my breasts together. The skirt was layered in strips of black lace that did indeed have ravens dotted throughout, but no skulls.

The young maid pulled my now clean hair into a simple green headband and spent fifteen minutes clucking and tutting as she fiddled with it. She then took two small boxes of powder and brushed some across my cheeks, then dabbed a cold compressed powder on my lower lip.

When I looked in the mirror over the desk when Brynja was finished, I was genuinely shocked at my reflection.

“How in the name of Freya have you managed to do something so pretty with my hair without a single braid?” She had twisted and curled strands around the headband, and my usually pale face was tinged with color in exactly the right places. Combined with the low-cut, fashionable dress, I looked like a member of court. Aside from the unusual color of my hair, of course.

Brynja blushed with pleasure. “I’ve always been a hand-maid, my lady.” Her pleased look vanished as she glanced at the locked door. “Just not here.”

“Well, I’m impressed,” I said. “Thank you. When I face these fae maniacs, I will not feel so out of my depth.”

“You’re welcome, my lady.”

A knock on the door preceded the sound of the key turning in the lock, and Frima strode into the room.

We blinked at each other. She at my dramatically different appearance, and I at the top half of her face. She was no longer wearing the skull mask.

She was older than I had thought she was, fine lines showing around her eyes. Were they from laughing or scowling? She had scores of braids in her onyx-black hair, tiny skull beads at the bottom of most, and thin lavender cord wound through a few.

“You look different,” she said. “Maybe I do know what Maz wants with you after all.” Her eyes dropped to my chest as she spoke. I scowled at her. “Come. Maz wants a word before you go to the dining hall.”

She led me back to the rooms the Prince had stormed out of earlier, instructing Brynja to stay in ‘the raven room’ as we left.

The Prince was standing in front of the fireplace when we entered, his staff leaning on the wall next to him. His broad back was covered in black furs and his braided hair fell over his shoulders. Where Frima had purple cord in hers, he had fine silver in his many braids. “Your betrothed, Maz,” Frima said with a grin, then turned and left.

“You are feeling better now?” he said, without turning to me.

I groped for my resolve to stay polite and calm. “Not better, no. But less ‘ agitated’ , as you so ridiculously put it.”

“Good. You must not refuse food or drink tonight as you did earlier. My stepmother has strict rules, and I do not have the time or patience to repeatedly save your life tonight.”

“Are you ready to tell me why I’m still alive at all?”

He half turned to pick up his staff. My breath caught.

He wasn’t wearing the mask.

I couldn’t see his face clearly, just a flash of skin in the firelight where the black skull had been before.

“I have already told you.” His fingers tightened around the handle of the staff. “I require your assistance.”

“With what?”

“I have already told you that I will explain tomorrow.”

“Why won’t you tell me now?”

He tensed, dropping his head. His clenched jaw caught the light as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Because, irritating human, I do not want my stepmother to dive into your fragile little skull and pull out everything she wants. I need to ward your mind, and I do not feel the desire to do so tonight.”

Fear crawled along my spine at the image his words created. But at last, he had given me an answer that made sense. And a clue. Whatever it was, it did have to do with his feud with the Queen. “Tomorrow, then,” I acquiesced.

His head lifted an inch. “So. The copper-haired human named for her strength isn’t always deliberately difficult.”

I put one hand on my hip. “And the evil Prince who uses shadows and mind games to torture people is able to answer a straight question.”

In a flash, he turned, moving just a foot in front of me in a blur of back. My pulse spiked, and when he came into focus, I just about stopped breathing.

Blessed Odin, he was… beautiful .

The refined fae prince with tell-tale sharp cheekbones and cruel slanted eyes that I had expected behind the mask was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, I found myself staring at a male who was breathtakingly… different. He was everything I had never known, and somehow so very familiar. His black hair was held back by a silver circlet, and framed a hard, tanned face that had barely a fae feature visible.

He looked like a warrior.

He had no war paint on his cheeks, and his full lips weren’t split and dry like the human warrior clans’ usually were, but he looked every inch the fierce fighter. My eyes traveled over his face, taking in every thin white scar, a particularly long one down the left of his jaw. His bright grey eyes looked ice blue now the mask had gone, and this close I could see the shadows dancing in them as he mirrored my roving gaze, taking in first my face, then my dress. “Do not presume to know me, little gold-giver .” His voice was a whisper, and Odin help me, my tongue darted out and whetted my own lips at the sight of his moving. A dark eyebrow quirked, and his bright eyes narrowed.

I stepped back. “Your reputation is famous across the five Courts,” I said, trying to break his clearly magic-induced spell.

“I have heard as much. And tell me, do these rumors only cover my killing and torturing? Or do they mention any of my other skills?” The words were a caress, and I swallowed hard. He was wearing a black shirt under his fur cloak, the collar open, and a large medallion around his neck.

I kept my eyes on his face. “Seducing me with magic is akin to taking what does not belong to you,” I spluttered.

Something sparked in his eyes. “Do you see any shadows around this staff?”

I glanced at it. “No.”

“Then I am using no magic.”

I stared, my face heating to the point of discomfort. “You said you needed to ward my mind against the Queen?” I said, reaching for any change of subject.

“Yes. For your sake and mine, do not antagonize her tonight.”

Seeing his mouth move when he spoke after only seeing the mask before was having some sort of hypnotic effect on me. The rich baritone of his words matched the face that I hadn’t expected.

“Why don’t you feel like warding my mind before we see her?” I forced out.

His eyes flicked to his staff before returning to mine. “Just behave yourself. Answer her questions with as few words as possible.”

“Is your dining hall decorated in the same way as your throne room?”

His jaw twitched. “It is not my throne room.”

I frowned. “You are the prince. There were two thrones in there.” Just the thought of the room made goosebumps rise on my skin and I rubbed my arms. He glanced down at the movement, his gaze lingering a second too long on the way back up.

“My father’s throne. I will ascend only when my stepmother is dead.”

I cocked my head. “Who sits on the other then?”

“Nobody. Not since my father’s passing.”

It took a lot to kill a fae, especially a strong one, and nobody in the five Courts knew how the King of the Shadow Court had died. Only that his second wife had continued to rule the Court, alongside the deceased King’s only son.

“You wish your stepmother dead?” This was exactly the kind of information I needed, and the male behind the mask was proving far easier to probe than the skull-covered monster he had previously been.

“I wish a great many people dead,” he answered, and my notions of his monstrousness snapped back into place.

“Rumors say you get your way.”

“The rumors are correct in that case.”

“Are they all true?”

“As true as the rumors of the Gold Court, I imagine. What did you see on the root-river?”

He threw the question in so smoothly, I almost opened my mouth to respond. “I don’t remember. I hit my head.”

“I can get the answer myself.”

“You already tried that.”

“You intend to knock yourself unconscious a second time, to evade my probing? Would it not be easier to answer my question?”

“You answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

“I have answered many of your questions.”

“Not the one that matters.”

He swept a hand out. “Why you?”

My eyes fixed on his mouth as he said the word you. “Yes.”

“You will have your answer tomorrow. And then, you will give me mine.”

Was he negotiating with me?

He could just dip into my mind and take the information, as he had proven on the boat. Or, he could stick hooks in me and hang me from the ceiling until I told him what he wanted to know.

The thought made me shiver again.

“That dress is clearly inadequate for the temperature,” he said.

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I am not cold. I am… unnerved.”

“By me?” The predatory look returned to his gaze.

“By bodies hanging from hooks and urns filled with skulls and fae who drink blood.”

He stared at me, eyes bright, until there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” he barked. I turned to see Ellisar push the door open.

“You are requested alone for dinner tonight, Maz,” the huge human said. I turned back to the Prince as he swore viciously.

Relief surged through me. “I don’t have to go?”

“No. You’ll eat with-” Ellisar started, but the Prince cut him off.

“She’ll eat alone, in the raven room.” Shadows were swirling in his eyes, and his measured expression had turned dark. Perhaps the male under the mask could be just as intimidating, I thought as he lifted his staff and power rolled from him.

“Yes, Maz.”

“Take her now. Let nobody speak with her.”

“Wait, I want to see my friends!”

“This is your fault,” he growled. “Do you have any idea how—” he stopped abruptly, stared furiously at me a moment, then whirled around. “Leave. Now.”

“Come on,” Ellisar said softly, before I could protest.

“Tomorrow,” I said, pulling on my resolve to do as I was told. “You’ll tell me why you took me tomorrow.”

The Prince didn’t reply.