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Bravery shines in stories of old.

The third portrait whispers secrets concealed,

Stowed within, a mystery revealed.

In shadows, the truth unsealed.

Unlocking the past, the present revealed.

My stomach dropped as I realized my steel would be of little use. Nor would my companions’ magic. “It’s a riddle.”

“Wisdom’s grace, courage bold,” Parys repeated, raking a hand through his hair. “And secrets concealed.”

“What happens if we get it wrong?” Arran asked, inspecting the portrait more closely now. Waving his hand in front of it, touching the canvas, probably trying to detect magic. But the knot in his brow told me that whatever secrets that canvas held, they weren’t revealing themselves to him.

“A book,” Parys said suddenly.

We all turned to look at him.

He nodded to the first portrait, the dark queen staring down at us. “She’s standing in a library. The owl is a symbol of wisdom—probably the High King, a terrestrial shifter, if she’s the elemental queen. The answer is in each portrait.Knowledge reserved in every case. Libraries preserve books in bookcases. The first answer is books.”

I stared at the dark queen, awaiting her response. She inclined her head. Not even a ‘well done.’ Fucking bitch.

“Was it meant to be this easy?” Parys said warily, looking around the room.

Lyrena blinked. “That was easy?”

“He spends half his life in the library,” I said. “We don’t have time to question our luck. What is the second one?”

“A beast of some kind,” Arran said. Of course, he’d pick up on that particular line.

“But it’s a portrait,” I said, examining the second painting closer. A bearded fellow with white blond hair like my mother’s. A shiver of unease slithered through my spine.

“Maybe it has something to do with who is in the painting,” Parys said, stepping up beside me. “I think that is Accolon,” he said.

“You know my family history better than I do,” I sighed, cursing myself for all the times I’d let my mind wander.

“Accolon was known for his courage,” Lyrena said, nodding quickly. “He was the original owner of Excalibur.”

Parys’s mouth twitched, but he nodded. “Alright… yes. Accolon.”

We all cried out in unison.

Pain lanced through my body, suffusing every limb. It felt as if my bones themselves were on fire. Beside me, Parys crashed to his knees, Lyrena’s voice a keening moan as she buckled. Only Arran and I remained standing.

Then, just as suddenly, the pain was gone. Only flickering embers of memory remained. I turned immediately back to the dark queen, whose smile had grown to reach her eyes. “That is the punishment for a wrong answer?” I demanded.

“Eventually, you will stop guessing. The pain will get worse each time until you’d rather starve to death than risk another wrong answer.” She looked as if she’d enjoy watching either spectacle.

I turned back to Parys. “You didn’t think it was Accolon. Don’t listen to Lyrena.” She was staggering back to her feet, face white, but nodding emphatically. “Listen to your own instincts.”

Parys’ usually warm brown eyes had turned wary, his golden skin ashen. But he nodded as he turned back to the portrait of Accolon. He was silent for a long time—too long, longer than we had. A rumbling growl rolled through me. I ignored it, forcing myself to keep my eyes on Parys.

“I think Lyrena was right, partially,” he finally said. “It does have to do with Excalibur. But the beast isn’t Accolon, it is on the sword itself.” He pointed to the carved pommel. “A lion.”

“Accolon was a lion shifter,” I said softly, the fact dredging itself up from the recesses of my memory.

Arran and Lyrena looked to the painted figure of Accolon for confirmation, but Parys and I turned to the dark queen instead. She inclined her head, blue eyes a shade darker as disappointment set in.