Page 12

TAELYN

Aware that I’ve left Balthorne guarding the front, I slip out of the rear door of the office—the one the staff use to enter if they need to stoke the fire or bring meals to the king.

I hurry down the rear passageway, candlelight guiding me.

I’m following something, but I don’t know quite what or to where. I know only it’s important.

Hurry… the voice whispers from somewhere inside my head. It’s time.

Following some kind of instinct inside of me, I keep going. I leave the staff corridor and cross the main hall to take me to the steps that lead down, into the dungeon.

The head of the King’s Guard, Cirrus, steps out in front of me, breaking my reverie.

“Princess Taelyn, where are you going?”

I frown and stare down at the large key in my palm. “I-I’m not entirely sure.”

He sees the item in my hand, and his eyes widen in shock. He covers his reaction quickly with a smooth smile, but not quickly enough for me to fail to register it. He recognizes this key.

“I will take that for you.”

To my surprise, he reaches out to swipe it from me. I move just in time, closing my fingers around it, and then placing my hand behind my back.

“A princess has no business with ugly things like that,” he says.

“Ugly things like what? It’s just a key.”

Something is clearly troubling him. “It’s old and rusted.”

“What is it for?” I ask.

“I have no idea.”

His gaze shifts up to the left, and I know he’s lying.

“Cirrus, you are head of the King’s Guard, and since there is no longer a king, you are now sworn to me.”

“I will swear to protect you, Princess Taelyn, and that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

“Protect me from a key.” I give a small laugh that contains no humor. “I think I have far bigger things to worry about.”

He chews at his lower lip. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

I remain baffled. “I still don’t understand. Does this key have something to do with the rot?”

It’s the only thing I can think of that could possibly cause me harm.

We’ve lived in peace here for the past ten years.

The rot took my home, and my real father, back in Torremora.

It gradually ate away at our lands, taking our crops and animals, until our subjects began to starve.

How can you fight something you can’t see?

No one knows the cause of it. Rumor is that it’s caused by black magic, a curse put on our lands, but no one knows why or by whom.

“No, Princess, it doesn’t. It’s something that could be far more dangerous.”

The key seems to feel warmer again in my hand. I have no intention of passing it to Cirrus. The king went to great lengths to hide the key, and now Cirrus seems intent on not allowing me to find out what door it opens.

“I don’t need you to worry about me,” I tell him. “I’m a grown woman and ruler of Highdrift and the lands of Askos.”

He ducks his head slightly. “I’m sorry if you believe me to be too overprotective, Princess, but we have just lost both our king and queen. It would be wrong of me not to do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“I understand that, Cirrus, but there was nothing you could have done to protect either of them. My greatest threat is something none of us have any power over.”

It must make him feel helpless, as though his job is worth nothing. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I really do want him to leave me with the key. I can’t explain the grip it has on me. All I want is to follow where it guides me.

Perhaps, on the other side of whatever door it opens, is the answer to all our problems. Maybe it will save us from the rot? The unlikelihood of that niggles in the back of my mind. If that was the case, then why had the king hidden it? A person hides something they don’t want anyone to find.

I feel the pull of whatever is behind the door, even if I don’t fully understand it. I am Fae, though, and I recognize magic, even if my own isn’t strong. It isn’t always something that can be comprehended. Sometimes you just have to let the magic take control.

“Step aside, Cirrus,” I say. “I command you.”

He has no choice, and though I can tell it goes against everything he believes in, he moves to one side to let me pass.

Pass, I do.

My wings tremble behind me, a flicker of excitement racing through me. I shouldn’t want any more excitement—quite the opposite. I need to think of my kingdom now, how much they need me. But the pull is stronger than I am. I find my feet moving of their own accord.

Down, toward the dungeon.

This isn’t a place I’ve spent any time. Why would I? A dungeon is no place for a Fae princess. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’ve never been down here. I’ve taken the occasional peek when I’d heard of someone—or something —interesting being locked away down here.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and, instead of turning left, toward the main part of the dungeon, I go right.

I’ve never been this way before. Why am I suddenly so sure I had to come down here?

It’s dark and dank, and torches that have run low flicker in the gloom. Somewhere nearby, water trickles. My pulse races, my heart feeling too large in my chest. In my palm, the key grows warmer still.

I’m going the right way, even though every instinct tells me to turn and bolt.

Somehow, I know this is important, and I can’t be a coward.

How can I rule over a kingdom if I allow myself to get a little spooked?

This is a part of the castle—my castle now—and I need to know every inch of it.

If I don’t explore, I’ll be forever questioning what’s down here.

Maybe I should have brought someone with me. Yes, that would have been more sensible. I know why I haven’t, though. If I’d tried to tell someone where I was going, even my lady’s maid, Skylar, they would have tried to stop me.

This also feels like something I need to do alone. I can’t begin to explain why or how I know this; I just do.

A heavy wooden door stands at the end of the corridor. Twin torches are attached to the wall on either side, and lit. Who comes down here to keep the flames burning? Would they know what this key is for?

The wooden door has been fortified with iron bands strapped across it. Whatever is behind that door must be someone people were fearful of escaping. A large iron lock, a size that I’m sure will fit the key, is on the left-hand side.

My hand trembles. I shouldn’t do this. I should turn and run as fast as I can back up into fresh air and sunlight, and the safe company of my lady’s maid and guards.

But my feet won’t move.

My hand reaches forward, seemingly of its own free will, and slots the key into the lock. I try to pull back, but nothing happens.

It’s as though the proximity of the key to the lock has given it a new kind of power.

A strength it didn’t have before. I can’t stop it.

I want to toss it to the ground, but my fingers only grip it tighter.

Tears prickle the backs of my eyes with fear.

This is black magic, and I have no control over it.

I’m going to open this door, whether I want to or not.

The key turns in the lock, and I pull it back out, keeping hold of it.

The door swings open, revealing the room beyond.