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My voice cracks in a million little shards as I squeeze Cece’s hand. “I love you, Cece.”

“Nell! Nell! Take me with you.”

My heart practically booms out of my chest. Cece wrangles her hands in front of her as though she’s about to kneel down to pray, her immense hope burning brighter than the sun.

Regrets drag down my chest, and if there’s still blood in my veins, it’s as cold and still as a dead horse in a frozen field.

“I can’t.”

There. The words that have been haunting me ever since I set foot in Faerie. Disappointment and betrayal twist Cece’s lips, and guilt numbs my body.

Father grabs her by the arm and holds her away from me. “Go now, and never come back.”

I concentrate on Cece. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.” I look down at my emerald mask, and my knuckles turn white.

There’s no doubt, now. The princess mask is the one I need to break.

With a newfound resolve, I vanish through the mirror. The quill and ink in my skirts allow me to draw the correct runes on my arms, the process a little more complex in the midst of the sceawere, but not impossible. The bite of Faerie’s maze of glass frosts my eyelashes as I draw “Fae” and “heart” and “flame” to reach One directly.

I’ve heard enough excuses. I need to know the stakes of the bet and figure out how to save Cece from a marriage she never wanted, hopefully without condemning my country to some wretched fate.

When I step out of the mirror, my dark Fae is alone in the gym, the string of his golden bow drawn.

“Good evening,” I say quickly.

His shadow arrow runs straight through the closest mannequin, and a shiver quakes me from head to toe. Judging by the dark and desperate look on his face, he’s not happy with me.

“You pleaded with me to help us, and then took off without a word…”

The icy pool of hurt brimming through his voice sparks a hot line of shame along my spine.

My throat bobs. I wish I could kiss him and cower inside his arms, but the time for hushed confessions and illicit affairs has passed. I need to petition the king for Cece’s freedom so he gives me permission to bring her here. And I’ll give him whatever he wants in return.

“I need to see him.” One’s eyes narrow, and I stand a little taller and tip my chin up to make him understand I won’t take no for an answer. “Take me to the Shadow King.”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to argue or turn me down, but his shoulders hunch, and he finally nods. His regal-looking bow vanishes into thin air, and the shadows around him thicken. “You’re right. It’s time.”

Chapter 39

Four of a Kind

One laces our fingers as he pulls me inside the mirror, and my heart burns. He guides me through the sceawere and presses the runes on his lower arm. The foggy glass immediately clears, and I step out of the mirror with a snowflake stuck to my cheek.

“Here we are. The king’s bedroom,” One says, and the muted fear filling the cracks of his low voice spells trouble.

His resigned pout makes my pulse run wild, and I search the empty space for an explanation. A large bed is left unmade in the center of the room, the covers twisted in knots like the king’s nightmares followed him home.

A pile of black clothes folded by the fire.

A feather laid over an unfinished letter.

A thick golden mask discarded on the bedside table…

I sense nothing out of the ordinary, and if it wasn’t for the full-face mask, I’d think One was stalling.

The door leading to the balcony is left ajar. Cold night air billows inside the room, and I step outside to get a grip on my nerves. The third-floor balcony has always been a mystery—no stairs leading in or out of it. A forsaken place belonging to the monster responsible for my troubles and accessible only through the sceawere.

The cold breeze curls around my shoulders, and thick clouds obscure the moon. “Where is the Shadow King?” I whisper.