Page 22

D aylight—the time I spent as a flying beast—passed more slowly when I was looking forward to an event in the evening. The moment I was capable of returning to the castle, I ran through its unnecessarily long corridors, ignoring the looks of the elves I passed. I didn’t care if they saw me running for the first time in their lives. I wanted to catch Callista the moment she was available. I already hated myself for bearing a curse that required me to spend the day away from her, and I would not waste any more of the evening walking to our rooms.

When I reached our corridor, I slowed. She was in the hall talking with Mylo. I strolled up and bowed to her.

She practically bounced on her heels. “Aedan! I was hoping you would be here soon.”

Mylo’s expression grew an amused smile as he lifted his brows up and down once.

I ignored him and faced Callista. She wore a white, lacy dress with too many buttons to count, but they made the dress cleave and flow with her body in an ethereal, whimsical way. I offered her an arm. “Callista. I was afraid you might be engaged already.”

She slipped her hand through mine as if we’d been walking together for years. “After an invitation like you left me this morning? I’m skipping dinner for it.”

“You are not.” That was unthinkable. “Mylo—”

I paused. What if I didn’t order him to do what I wanted? People did things for Callista when she only asked. What if a king… asked?

I softened my voice. “Mylo, would you ask someone from the kitchens to bring us food in the library?”

His amused smile returned. “Are you sure about that? Maybe I should offer to chaperone you two instead?”

“Mylo,” I growled.

He waved a hand, as if to dismiss my protest, and laughed. “Of course, I’m happy to send food.” Then he turned to Callista. “You’ll tell me, though, if you need a chaperone, won’t you? I’m not sure I trust the king.”

She laughed and patted my arm with her free hand. “Thank you, I appreciate that.” Her voice lowered, and while she held my arm, she leaned toward him with a conspiratory tone. “He might not like me telling anyone this, but he’s the most honorable elf I’ve ever met.”

I couldn’t help muttering, “Considering that the other elves you’ve met are Koan and Jolter, that doesn’t say much.”

Mylo burst out laughing again and dipped his head as I nudged her away.

She kept up easily and chattered about birds she watched out the window, the weather changing, how she was concerned about the shorter nights and how that must mean that I’m a drekkan longer, and how she’d been thinking about my family’s book all day.

Was she trying to fill up the air with random thoughts? Or was this normal behavior for her when she was not nervous and unsure of how I would respond?

She stopped talking and slowed down when we entered the library. Her hand slid up to my bicep and tightened as she spun to face me. She set her free hand on my forearm.

Physically, I could lift her with one hand. Carrying her like a baby would take no more effort than lifting a fork. But as she held my arm with both her hands, I could not move a muscle. My body froze, caught somewhere between her open willingness to touch me and her blue eyes staring at mine. Did she hear my heart pound? Did she feel the fire that ran in my veins?

“We’re not in a hurry, right?” she asked, apparently oblivious to the effect her hands had on my arm.

“We have time for whatever you’d like.”

She smiled, and a hint of happiness leaked into the bond. She squeezed my arm with both hands. “Thank you. I’ll be so fast.”

Then she took those dangerous hands off my arm, ran to the spiral staircase, and set one hand on the banister. She started running, rushing up the steps with her white dress and flame-kissed hair flying out behind her and one hand trailing the top of the railing.

She was stunning. Beautiful in every way. Like a firehawk. I wanted to wrap her up and keep her forever… but one did not put a wild bird in a cage. She needed to be free—if for nothing else than to run up and down giant staircases in libraries .

She stopped at the top and surveyed the room from her new vantage point. I wanted to join her. Halfway up the staircase, though, I stopped. What if she did not want me up here with her? What if she wanted to be alone?

I had never questioned whether or not I should do something that I wanted to do, and that gave me even more pause. A king did whatever he wanted. But if what I wanted affected someone else—if it affected Callista, she should have a say in it. I looked up at her, and found she was not studying the massive library anymore—she was looking at me.

Her lips lifted in a beautiful, fresh smile that drew me closer. She was not upset at me joining her. When I reached the top, she threw her arms out to her sides and waved at the library’s expanse. “This is amazing. How long did it take to build?”

That was a good question. I rested a hand on the railing in front of us. “I’m not sure. It was a gift from the people of Sirun for King Toren and his new wife when they married, about 15,000 years ago. It gets reinforced with new layers of magic every decade.”

Both her hands patted the banister. “Amazing. Well—” She turned to me. “Shall we go read your book?”

I nodded and extended an elbow.

Instead of taking it, her eyes lit up and one corner of her mouth lifted. “Let’s race,” she breathed, and then ran down the stairs.

By the time I realized what was happening, she had a two-second lead on me. But I was an elf, and she had to lift her dress to avoid tripping on the hem.

I skipped the stairs three at a time and caught up to her before she reached halfway. I beat her by at least three seconds.

Winded, yet full of energy, and absolutely bursting with the playful challenge, I turned and caught her waist as she neared the landing. I spun her in a circle, twice, before I was flooded with her sweet happiness pouring through our bond. I spun her one more time, hoping to make it last a few seconds longer, and then set her down.

I didn’t want her to get sick.

She landed, panting, with a hand on my arm. “Thank you. I’ve wanted… to see that all day.”

I brushed a wild lock of hair away from her eyes. “You could have come with anyone else.”

“But I’ve been waiting for you.”

My heart rate doubled at that simple statement. I cleared another lock of hair away from her face. Something had changed in the air around us. I wasn’t sure when or how, but a current of energy filled the space between us, and I wanted nothing more than to close it. Would she let me touch her face?

In this moment—while her breath recovered from running, and she held my arm, and our eyes locked onto each other—I could believe she would welcome a gentle touch on her cheek, maybe a soft caress on her jaw…

But the library’s large double doors swished open and shredded the moment.

I turned, torn between flaying whoever had decided now was a good time to read and cursing myself for opening the library to the public thirteen years ago. And then I saw our intruder… and cursed myself again.

One of the cleaning staff from the dining hall carried a tray with soup, bread, meat, cheese, and several other items I didn’t care to inventory. The interruption was completely my fault. I reached for the tray. “I’ll take that. ”

Her eyes widened as she let go of her burden and dropped into a curtsy. “Yes, Your Majesty.” It didn’t take a mistek bond to know she was anxious. Were servants always this way around me, and I just hadn’t noticed?

“Thank you,” I added, trying to remove the irritation I felt at being interrupted.

She dipped her head and kept her gaze on her shoes.

Callista swept up next to me. “We really appreciate you bringing this up here,” she said, drawing the servant’s eyes up from the floor. “I know it’s not part of your normal work. I’m Callista.” What a silly thing to say. Everyone knew who she was.

The servant, though, tipped her head in a polite greeting. “I’m Salor. It’s nice to meet you.” When Callista smiled at her again, Salor said, “I’ve been hoping to see you in the Dining Hall, but I’m not too surprised you haven’t eaten there yet. The elves in there can be a little intimidating.”

The servant had visibly relaxed as she spoke. Perhaps Callista’s introduction was not so silly after all.

But I could not introduce myself every time I wanted to help anxious servants relax. That would come across as… quite ridiculous. Maybe I should ask about something else she mentioned.

“Salor,” I started, “are you intimidated by the other elves in the Dining Hall?”

Her face blushed. “Only sometimes, Your Majesty. Most of them are fairly polite.”

“Most of them?”

She glanced at Callista, who stepped forward and took her hand. “His Majesty is not angry at you at all,” she said, throwing me a warning look with those intense blue eyes. “He tends to be very protective of his people, and I’m guessing he’s upset by the possibility that some of them might have mistreated you in his Dining Hall.”

Both ladies turned to me, Callista’s eyes still bright with warning while Salor’s were anxious and worried. I quieted the growl that wanted to escape and said only, “Callista is correct.”

“I…” Salor’s eyes darted from me to Callista, and then back to me. She dropped another curtsy. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, Your Majesty, but there are times when some people are a little harsh and demanding.” She turned back to Callista. “I’d rather not say anything more.”

“Of course.” Callista patted her hand again. “Nobody wants you to be uncomfortable—” She gave me another pointed look. “Right, Your Majesty?”

“Correct,” I agreed. “But.” I waited for Salor to look at me again. “If there is a situation I can help resolve, bring it to my attention. Or to Mylo’s. He will not ignore it either.”

She smiled—she wasn’t quite relaxed, but she was not as nervous as when I’d first taken the tray. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Salor, for bringing the food.”

Her nerves lessened a little more as she bobbed her head and muttered, “Of course.”

As she slipped out the door, Callista rolled her eyes and patted my arm again. “Do you make everyone so nervous? Or only cleaning girls?”

“I—” I had never considered the question before. I intimidated Koan and Jolter deliberately often enough, but… others? “I’m not sure.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You probably do. How else would the Cursed High King of Hemlit keep the masses under control?”

The question did not sound like one she expected an answer to, so instead I asked one of my own. “Why is it that you do not find the Honorable Monster as terrifying as everyone else?”

“Oh, I did,” she said as I balanced the tray in one hand and pressed my other up to the stone flame. “It’s just that there were other things that terrified me more.”

I waved her through the hidden entrance. “Like what?”

“Like losing my brother.”

“So you were willing to face one terrifying thing to spare yourself from another?”

She smirked. “Pretty much.” As I set the tray on the large desk in my private room and gestured for her to take the chair, she added, “Unfortunately for you, I discovered you weren’t quite as terrifying as you wanted everyone to believe. You have a streak of goodness that embodies honor and justice, and it’s such a core part of you that even thirteen years of a curse haven’t been able to erase it. And—”

I set a bowl of pumpkin-scented soup in front of her. “Oh, this smells amazing.”

I picked up another chair and brought it to the small side of the table, adjacent to her. “Were you going to finish telling me why I am not so terrifying?”

A light pink lit up her cheeks. “Oh, no,” she said, filling a spoon with spiced broth. “I think it would be much better to eat now.”

When she finished eating, she slid the tray onto the empty half of the desk and rubbed her hands together. “Are you ready for this? ”

I jumped up and brought the Secrets book to the table. I held it as I sat down and then ran my hand over the cover, letting the tingling magic that rose from it flick against my skin. How I had longed to know the things my father and grandmother believed were so important and secret that they were worth a second language. And not just any language—the language of our enemies.

The book had been bound at least a thousand years ago, but magic kept it in pristine condition. I handed it to Callista. “I have wanted to know what was in this for fourteen years, since I was first crowned king and discovered it in the King’s Private Library. But I will only hear it through your voice.”

She took the book… and my hand. “Thank you for sharing it with me.” She squeezed my hand before letting go and opening the cover.

The first page held drawings of flowers, vines, butterflies, and birds. I’d stared at it hundreds of times, but I didn’t want to rush Callista. She moved her hand slowly over each image. “Every image pulses magic a little differently,” she said. “I could study it for hours, but… I’ll come back to it.”

She turned the page to another one I had memorized. This was mostly blank with two words tidily drawn into the middle—two words that I could not read. “Our Story,” Callista said, smiling. “The magic that emanates from this page pulses with emotion. I can feel love and satisfaction and happiness.”

Strange. I’d imagined those same feelings as I’d studied the book, wishing my head would simply make sense of the words if I looked at them long enough.

She turned another page, landed on the first full page of text, set her finger under the words on the top line, and started reading .

“After surviving the ordeal of the last few years and finally finding a… degree of peace and happiness, Dustan suggested I write down our story. I agreed with him, though (for reasons you’ll understand soon enough) I am insisting we write it in the Mother Tongue. We’ve already agreed that our children will learn it as adults, and they are the people I am writing for. I want them to know the power in their blood and the strength they carry as part of our family.

“And so I write to you, my children, and my children’s children. I know that if we can survive the things we have survived, you can triumph over anything you must deal with.”

She looked up at me, her eyes so moist I didn’t know how she was reading through them. “She loved you before you were even born. I wish I had something like this from Motab.”

I reached out and wrapped a hand around hers, trying to swallow my emotions, but failing. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She squeezed the top of my hand with her free hand and blinked. “I know. Let’s keep going.” Her fingers maneuvered out from under mine and underlined the words as she went again.

“Let the record show that I, Ember, Queen of Hemlit and wife of Dustan, was born a princess in a fae kingdom that does not bear recording.”

Callista’s eyes widened, and her jaw fell. She glanced up at me, then rushed to read more.

“As my children, you are half fae and half elf. The elves and fae have a long history that is more entwined than either likes to acknowledge, but you have access to more power than any in either realm because you have such a fresh inheritance from both worlds.”

She stopped reading again, but I couldn’ t look at her. Everything faded out of focus, and the floor fell out from beneath me. I tried to grab the table to stabilize myself, but I couldn’t. It was too smooth. How could I be part fae? The same people that I’d hated for so many years? How could I not know who I was—what I was—

But a hand gripped mine. Smaller than mine, not as hot, but real. Real and stable. I grabbed onto it with my other hand and felt another land on top of it. I stared at them—our four hands—holding onto each other, and then I saw a person behind them. Callista. Her hands.

She came into focus, staring at me with bright, blue eyes. “Breathe, Aedan,” she whispered.

And I did.

“Keep breathing.”

I forced another scrap of air into my lungs. Over and over.

Each breath shook a little less. Each took a little less effort.

And the room started to come back into focus. The library. Desk. Floor. None of it had actually moved. It had all happened in my head. Because I had just learned everything I’d known about myself was wrong.

Callista squeezed my hands again. “Are you well?”

I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think so.”

“What are you thinking?”

I blew out a long breath. What was I thinking? I started thinking out loud. “Everything I’ve ever known about myself is a lie. I’m a quarter fae. What does that even mean? And is that why my family—my aunts and uncle and cousins—have always had such powerful magic? And do any of them know?”

I looked at the book. I knew there were pages and pages in my father’s hand. “My father knew. Which means his siblings most likely knew. But their children? My cousins? Robin’s parents died when he was a child, and he grew up here. Since I didn’t know, he probably didn’t either. That only leaves Guyan. His parents died before mine, but after Robin’s. Acantha finished raising him, so I have no idea if she told him before the curse stranded him outside of Sirun.”

I raised my eyes from our hands to Callista’s face. “Why did all our parents die so early? Mine went from an unknown poisoning, Robin’s technically killed each other, and Guyan’s were in a strange accident.”

My voice trembled. “Callista—what if that wasn’t what really happened? What if someone found out and has been killing my family?” My mind jumped to Acantha—was she safe? What if she was next on a murderer’s list?

But… why hadn’t she already been killed? The others all died years ago. What if…

Could she have helped with a conspiracy?

“Callista. What if it was Acantha?”

“Your aunt?”

I nodded slowly. “All her siblings and their spouses died, but she’s been fine. She blamed the fae for my parents’ death and Guyan’s, but she had to know that we were all part fae. Blaming the fae doesn’t make any sense, unless it was to distract from something.” And she’d been playing the role of a doting aunt and helpful advisor to me for over a decade. Was she just waiting for the right opportunity to strike? That scene in the rose cave made so much more sense if she’d been playing me—

“Aedan?” Callista looked at me hesitantly. “I don’t know what to think about your aunt, but I don’t think you should do anything… rash.”

My heart started to pound. I would not give Acantha a chance to kill me if she had already killed my parents. And Robin’s and Guyan’s.

“Aedan?”

Even Fagan had warned me about Acantha’s dangerous side. I needed to put up walls around every thought or emotion that would make me sympathetic to my aunt.

“Aedan.” Callista’s voice intensified. I focused on her. “I don’t like your aunt, so please don’t mistake what I’m about to say.” I nodded, and she continued. “You’ve just found out something so big and so huge that I can’t even imagine what it would feel like. Maybe like part of you died. Maybe you’re mourning a loss and also trying to figure out the part of you that you just discovered. Maybe it feels like I felt when you told me what happened to Motab.”

Her voice cracked, and my walls shattered. This revelation was world-shattering, but it could not be worse than what she’d been through.

And she’d left me alive.

She swallowed and kept going. “I just don’t want you to jump to conclusions about your aunt and do something that you’ll regret later on. Maybe just knowing the possibility of her duplicity will help you. Maybe your father recorded something about her that will help you know what to do when we read it. But I would hate to see you have to deal with the regret of a decision that you can’t undo if you change your mind later.”

Losing my identity. Gaining a new one. Considering Acantha as a traitor. Holding Callista’s hands. It was all so very much.

I blew a deep breath and laid my forehead on our hands. I took a few more breaths—slow, very, very slow breaths. One of Callista’s hands slipped away from the pile and landed on the side of my head. Her thumb brushed over my scalp, slowly, over and over, for at least a minute.

Her touch was soft and careful, but it wiped away some of the tension that had overwhelmed me. Being part fae shouldn’t change anything essential about me. I was still the Cursed King of Hemlit, drekkan by day and elf—and fae—by night, more powerful than any other elf in the kingdom. More powerful, according to my grandmother, than any fae as well.

Callista did not find my new history repulsive. She sat here and stroked my head and held my hand. I was still the embodiment of royal power, protection, honor, and—hopefully—kindness. I straightened up and looked at her.

“Thank you,” I finally said. “Thank you for being here.” The book summoned my attention, and I glanced at it, still in shock over the secrets it contained. “You are right. I will be cautious, but I will not attack Acantha until I know more. At least until we finish reading my father’s words.”

“Do you want to read any more tonight?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can handle any more tonight. But tomorrow morning, if you wake before dawn?”

She tightened her fingers around my hand one more time. “Of course. I’d love that.”

After I’d delivered Callista safely to her room and secured her door with magic, I could not rest. I had too many things on my mind.

I started to review everything Acantha had done since my parents died, but the confines of my room felt claustrophobic. I returned to the corridor and paced its length. When I reached the end, I saw Koan and Jolter approaching.

“What are you two up to at this hour?” I asked.

They looked at each other, Jolter shrugged, and then they turned back to me. Like usual, Koan spoke for them both. “We usually stop by Callista’s door at some point and make sure it either has a guard or a magic seal. We know at least three elves who would be happy to see her dead, and we don’t want to make it easy by forgetting her at night.”

I nodded slowly. “I appreciate that,” I said. “It is an honorable action.”

Koan elbowed Jolter. “Did you hear that? I think the king just complimented us.”

Jolter elbowed him back, but spoke to me. “Is there something you’re looking for, Your Majesty?”

I wasn’t about to tell them the greatest secret of my life, but perhaps they could help me with another mystery. “I have secured Callista’s door for tonight,” I told them. They didn’t need to worry. “If anyone tries to enter without permission, their experience will be most unpleasant.”

A mischievous grin scrawled across Koan’s face. “Your seals are potent enough for us to feel from ten feet away. I’d love to see someone get hit with it who tries to break in.”

I returned his grin. “It would be satisfying.”

Koan elbowed Jolter again. “Did you hear that? The king was almost friendly to me.”

I resisted rolling my eyes. “There is another topic I would like your insight on.”

Both their eyes widened. Koan recovered the fastest. “We’d love to help. ”

I nodded. “I have heard things that have made me curious about the safety of the elves who work in the Dining Hall. Would you say that is something I should be concerned about?”

They gave each other another look, and Jolter shrugged again. Did these two communicate telepathically? Or were they just around each other enough that they could read each other’s expressions?

“If it’s a problem, it’s late at night,” Koan said. “Now might be a good time to take a look, if you’re curious.”

I raised a brow. “Are you part of the problem?”

Koan threw a hand to his chest in feigned shock. “Us? Never.” He relaxed his arm. “I mean, we flirt with everyone a bit—well, not Jolter anymore, but that’s not the point. We’re nice to everyone. If they’re uncomfortable, we stop. Some of the others are—well, let’s just go see.”

The Dining Hall was much louder and more raucous than I would have expected to see in the middle of the night. I slipped inside and stood in shadows against the wall. Three groups of elves laughed and shouted at each other, clearly under the influence of too many spirits. Was it like this every night?

Koan slid closer to me and hid our voices with silencing magic. “Looks like we have three groups tonight. Typically, anyone out late will cluster around one of the highest ranked nobles.”

“Are you usually part of that number?” I asked.

“We’re here about a third of the time, but people come to us. We don’t go to them.” I could hear his smile as he said, “Our table is always the most fun. We’ll have our wine, but people like us because we’re fun even without the drinks.”

“Yes, your sober fun has been a thorn in my side for years,” I muttered.

He laughed. “Happy to help. At least we make our own choices.” He gestured at the table in the middle of the room. “Broomden overindulges almost every night. I’m not even sure he can remember much the next day, but the fools flock to him because he has money to buy their drinks. And they hope the association will bring them prestige.”

Koan’s analysis of the social structure amongst nobles was more objective than I’d expected. He pointed to the other two groups. “Meldrin and Shancy are harmless. Shancy only pretends to get drunk—she never gives up control of her faculties. If Meldrin stays out this late, he’ll be drunk, but he’s a gentle soul, whether or not he’s sober.”

As Koan finished speaking, Broomden slammed an empty glass onto the table so hard it shattered. “Servant!” he shouted.

Salor scurried over to his table. “Yes, My Lord?” He grabbed her hand and pressed it against the glass on the table. “I asked for a drink ten minutes ago. Now my cup is broken.”

Koan stepped out of the shadows, toward the table. I grabbed the back of his tunic and pulled him back. “Your Majesty,” he hissed, “someone needs to stop Broomden. He will hurt her.”

I pressed Koan behind me.

Broomden still had Salor’s arm pinned to the table. “When I ask for a drink, I expect it to come fast or else I will—”

I unfurled my power with all the abandon of a monster. If I had fae blood in my veins, I was going to use it well. Smoke and flames rose off my body while heat spread through the room. Everyone between Broomden and myself scattered. Broomden let go of Salor and turned to look at me.

“You will ask her nicely again,” I growled with the rumbling tone of the drekkan. “And again, as many times as it takes. You will never threaten someone you are in a position to protect.” I raised my voice on magic so it filled the hall. “It appears I will be setting a guard in the hall to keep order. If I hear of anyone behaving so dishonorably again—” I gave Broomden a pointed look. “You will lose your rank and status.”

A few gasps rolled through the hall.

I raised my voice again and let the flames surrounding my body grow larger. “Does anyone have any questions?”

When silence answered me, I glanced at Salor. “Anyone on duty to clean tonight is dismissed.” I turned to Broomden and made my voice thunderous. “Broomden and those at his table will clean the hall tonight. Meldrin and Shancy will make sure it is done. Everyone else will go home.”

Elves scattered. In less than a minute, the hall was empty, except for Broomden, his five little bootlickers, Meldrin, and Shancy. I toned the flames down just enough that they could see my face more easily. “As nobles in Hemlit, I expect you to protect the people around you. If you must spend your nights in my Dining Hall, make sure it is a safe place for everyone… or your new status will be worse than the servants who clean up your messes now.”

I blew a hot wave of air over Broomden and marched out the door.