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“We need to talk.” She strode over to the table and punched a finger beside the Kingdom of Light’s figurine crown. “When thefuckare we finally going to take care of this asshole?”

I folded my arms and gave her a level stare. “I’m working on it.”

“Well, you’re not working fast enough. Stealing the gemstones is taking too long, and our thief is no longer on the right side of the chasm. We need to kill him.”

“That’s a fantastic idea.” I shot her a smile full of teeth. “Except for the bloody fact that none of us can cross the Great Rift to get to him.”

“We’ve stolen his mortal bride. He’ll hate that,” Toryn said. “There’s not much more we can do. At least not right now.”

Niamh stilled. “Alastair told me that Morgan had an idea. I think we should do it.”

My boots clicked against the stone floor as I paced around the table, moving from the Kingdom of Storms to King Oberon’s small pocket of light-drenched land. “I thought it was a terrible idea before but even more so now. She’d never ever agree to it. She hates me.”

“You’re right. She does hate you.” Rage flickered in her eyes. “But she hates Oberon so much more.”

Toryn cocked his head. “Did you do the impossible? She actually told you something?”

“No,” she hissed. “She has scars. It looks like someone dragged a knife down her back.”

For a moment, a blind rage rose up within me like a venomous snake. With a low growl rumbling in the back of my throat, I turned my gaze onto the stupid golden crown figurine. It was such a gleaming, bright thing, but it hid the true darkness beneath. “That’s what Morgan was alluding to. He tortured her.”

“Him or one of his soldiers. When I asked her about it, she tensed, shut up, and wouldn’t look at me anymore.” Niamh’s voice held the same fire as my heart. I’d known things were bad for the humans of Teine. They were forced to forever remain in the shadow of their king, but it seemed I didn’t know the full extent of it. “She also has that dragon tattoo we heard about. The one the brides get. It feels of magic.”

“Does she have any idea what it does?” Toryn asked. “Morgan still hasn’t been able to figure it out. The queens stop talking to her after the weddings.”

“I didn’t ask her,” Niamh said tightly. “She’s clearly traumatized.”

“Where is she now?”

“Back in her cell.” She paused. “Are you sure we need to keep her locked up in there?”

“For now,” I said with my eyes locked on Oberon’s crown. “She’ll try to escape if we don’t, and it’s not safe for her outside. The mists would eat her alive.”

Fifteen

Tessa

I’d made the mistake of telling Niamh I liked to read. On our way back to my cell, she’d swung by the library to choose three titles for me. All fiction, all as thick as a tree trunk. Something to shut me up and keep me distracted, no doubt. Or a trick. A way to get me to trust her. But she was just like Morgan, a loyal follower of the lethal Mist King.

Still, I had nothing else to do, and I was tired of staring at those three stone walls and the single one with the bars. Stone and bars, that was all it was. No sky, no stars. Certainly, no sun. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder what it was like out there, in the darkness. I’d only seen the mists for a brief moment before he had taken me.

My stomach turned.

I flipped open the book from the top of the stack and started reading about a princess trapped in a tower, far from home. In the warm clothes that Niamh had lent me, it didn’t take long for a cozy sense of comfort to wash over me. Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids, and soon, sleep found me once again.

* * *

There were two things I noticed as soon as I opened my eyes. The light was almost blinding. And my village looked wrong. Almost like someone had drawn it as a picture, the edges and colors close but not quite there. Birds chirped in the distance, a beautiful familiarity that made my soul ache.

But then the scent of ice chased it all away, and dread filled my heart.

He perched on a branch at the edge of the forest, one leg propped against the trunk, wearing that stupid mask and cloak. It fluttered in the light breeze that held just a hint too much of the cold. While this dream place looked achingly familiar, it wasn’t my home. It was just another one of the Mist King’s games.

I scowled at him. “Go away. Leave me alone. You’ve already done enough. Do you really have to keep invading my dreams?”

Pushing back his hood, he glanced my way, those ice-blue eyes flickering behind the mask. Not sapphire, as they really were. Always icy in the dreams. Why? “I needed to speak with you and I thought this would be the best way.”

“Well, it’s not,” I snapped back. “I’m trying to sleep.”