Chapter 16

I gave Ellisar a sidelong look as we made our way down the corridor. “Why do you call him Maz?” It was probably an inappropriate question, but the cheerful human had so far given the impression that he didn’t care much for being appropriate.

Ellisar shrugged. “It’s his name.”

“But he’s royalty. Shouldn’t you be calling him Your Highness?”

“He doesn't like being called that. He doesn’t even like Mazrith, which is his actual name.”

“Why was he so angry about the Queen wishing to eat with him alone tonight?”

This time Ellisar gave me the sideways look, as though this question was stepping closer to a line he wouldn't cross. “The Queen has strong head-magic.”

“Head-magic?” I knew what he meant, but I wanted him to be clear.

“She’s really good at getting information she wants. But it’s not easy. It takes time and no distractions.”

“What’s that got to do with dinner?”

“The two of them alone all evening means she has all the space she needs to try to pull out what she wants. She was letting him know that tonight would be a war. Maz is going to have to spend all night fighting her.”

“Oh.”

We walked in silence another moment. “Does it not bother you that there are bodies hanging from the ceiling here?”

He gave me a distasteful look. “What do you think?”

“Then why do you seem happy to be working for him?”

“Because I am happy working for him. Now, stop asking me questions. You’ll get me in trouble.”

“Can I just ask one more?”

“No.”

“Please?” I usually only ever used the word please with people I cared about. Lhoris had taught me when I was ten that if someone answered your plea when you used the word please, then you owed them gratitude. Which meant it gave them power over you.

Ellisar gave me a warm look. “Fine. One. But I won’t promise to answer it.”

“Can I see Kara and Lhoris before you take me to the raven room?”

He shook his head. “No. Can’t do that.” He held a hand up when I started to speak. “They are safe, well fed, and in straw beds.” He gave a small snort. “Better looked after than half the Court, in fact.”

“Where are they?”

“Thrall’s quarters.”

“If anyone here sees their runes, they’ll kill them for the reward,” I said. “They aren’t under the Prince’s protection like…” I hesitated. “Like I am.” They weren’t bound to marry him.

“Frima’s working on that. Until she’s come up with something smart, only a couple of folk know they’re there.” He gave me a sincere look. “They will be safe, as long as you keep your word to the Prince.”

“Thank you.” The expression of gratitude escaped my lips before I could stop it, but it was genuine. The warrior had something about him that felt real, and I instinctively trusted that he was speaking the truth.

We walked the rest of the way in silence. “Sleep well,” he said, before closing the door and locking it.

Ellisar was my best shot at an ally, I decided, staring at the closed door a moment.

I turned back to the room, eyes falling on the bed. Relief at not having to dine with the hideous Queen, or the unmasked Prince, for that matter, was washing the adrenaline from my system, and I was incredibly tired, all of a sudden.

Despite the overly large bed having Odin-only-knew what kind of exotic mattress stuffing and incredibly soft furs, I found myself struggling to sleep. My tumbling thoughts simply wouldn't shut off enough to let blessed unconsciousness take over.

Every creak or squeak from the corridor outside or the gently burning fireplace made my body tense in anticipation. I had gone to bed in a long shift I’d found in the wardrobe, and had my shouldersack with the stolen staff in it under the pillow beside me. I would be ready if anybody came into my room.

Anticipation for whatever it was the Prince might reveal the next morning played against the constant flashes of that unexpected face. And the reaction he had caused in me. Whenever I thought about him, my cheeks flushed with anger, and I forced my thoughts elsewhere.

Rolling over for the hundredth time, I let out a frustrated sigh.

It was no good. I couldn’t avoid the thoughts I kept shoving away. Not if I wanted to get any kind of rest.

Reluctantly, I lifted my hand and looked at the rune in the dim light. It was solid onyx-black, sucking the light into nothingness. My stomach tightened at the unfamiliarity of it.

I tried to remember the runes that Kara had taught me, and fear trickled through me when I recalled which one it looked like.

Darkness.

The power of the shadow-fae.

Flashes of my visions of the Starved Ones beat through my head, filling me with doubt.

What if there was darkness in me?

I’d always know there was… something . Something that lurked beneath my consciousness, bringing its ugly head above the surface just often enough to remind me I was different. That something was wrong.

And that I had no idea where I had come from.

I didn’t know my parents, didn’t know why I was the only human in the world who had copper colored hair.

I didn’t know why I had the visions.

I’d given up on finding out. I had no leads. No memories of my childhood. Nothing at all to even give me a place to start. Instead, I’d fixed all my hopes and dreams on starting a new life, somewhere of my own choosing. Of escaping the world I had been enslaved to.

I turned over again, burying my hand under the pillow.

Was that why the Prince had sought me out? Because he knew about my darkness? Was I destined to be here in the Shadow Court?

* * *

I woke with a jolt, having barely been asleep to begin with. I sat up straight in bed, swiping up a small iron nightlight and lifting it, both for light and as a potential weapon.

But whatever had woken me did not make itself apparent. The room was silent, and I could see movement nowhere.

My heart beat too quickly in my chest, and I wondered if a dream had startled me awake.

Blurry images of men and women on hooks, along with flashes of the Prince’s bright eyes and the Queen’s black ones had filled my fitful sleep.

What time was it?

I tried to return to sleep, but I couldn’t settle. Every time my eyes felt heavy, images of blood and hooks and dead eyes flashed into my head, forcing my eyes open again.

“You’re not a child, Reyna, you can’t let nightmares keep you awake,” I scolded myself aloud.

The dark visions had given me nightmares most of my teenage years. I couldn’t let them weaken me now.

Anger was giving me energy, rather than taking me back to sleep, and eventually I gave up, kicking my legs out of the bed.

It was cold in the room and I moved to the fireplace, loading it up with kindling and coal, before going to the wardrobe and dressing in my workshop clothes. I paced the room, rolling my shoulders and trying to settle the anticipation I felt for whatever was coming when this interminably long night ended.

Something on the floor caught my eye, and I paused my pacing.

Crouching, I picked up the small object that must have been pushed under my door.

A key.

That must have been what had woken me.

Pulse quickening, I stood and carefully pushed the key into the lock in the door. With a quiet click, it turned.

I held my breath, waiting for a guard or someone to burst in. But nothing happened.

I turned the handle and eased the door open. The dark, empty corridor stretched both ways, and I let out my breath.

Who had given me the key?

Did it matter?

I had a chance to escape. And I was taking it.