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Chapter Seven

ARABELLA

A rabella sat atop the balcony railing of her second-story bedroom overlooking the grounds of Hadeon’s estate under the light of the moon.

Leagues away, the Twilight Court’s capital city loomed with its massive blue walls.

At its center and visible for miles in every direction was the castle, which was nestled atop a hill.

She suspected the founding fae built the city there for the vantage point.

It would be indispensable should the worst happen and it was under siege.

In the room behind her—which was as unnecessarily lavish as Hadeon’s sitting room—she felt the blossoming of magic and knew a wielder had entered. The feel of golden, earthen magic told her it was Jessamine.

When her friend appeared in view, a laugh escaped Arabella’s lips, which she tried to cover with a cough.

“You look ridiculous, too,” Jessamine’s cheeks were dusted with an unusual pink. Few things got under her skin enough to make her blush. Except, apparently, wearing a short nightgown that was sheer enough to leave little to the imagination.

“You could’ve just worn one of the prince’s shirts,” Arabella said. She’d had a similar option when the staff had taken their leathers to be cleaned and chose to wear one of Hadeon’s shirts. The sturdy fabric fell to her knees, and she’d had to roll up the sleeves several times.

“Never,” Jessamine said as she hopped up onto the railing and swung her legs around to sit next to Arabella. Muttering obscenities, she pulled at her dress as it slid up to her hips. “What princeling has only nightgowns to offer his female guests?”

“One who doesn’t often host females, I imagine,” Arabella said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Or one who only hosts those he wants to fuck,” Jessamine muttered, her voice as sharp as the sword sheathed at her hip. Even in a nightgown, she’d refused to be unarmed and had tied her scabbard to her waist along with knives sheathed on her legs.

Arabella had done the same.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.” Arabella said.

Her friend made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “You wouldn’t catch me fucking a fae—especially not that one.”

“Why?” Arabella asked, genuinely curious. “He’s handsome enough.”

“I wouldn’t go near a male who forced my best friend into a bargain when she was in a vulnerable position,” Jessamine said. “Not to mention him coercing us into coming here.”

Arabella shrugged. “He did save us. We wouldn’t have made it out on our own.”

“Yes, we would have,” Jessamine said. “And we wouldn’t be stuck in fae lands.”

As enchantresses, they couldn’t make it through the gateways on their own. The only way home would be with help from someone who could carry them through the gateway or if one of the goblins was willing to teleport them back to the mortal realm.

“Do you want to go back to Shadowbank?” Arabella offered, feeling her heart sink as she said the words.

She wouldn’t stop her friend if she wanted to leave, and she could understand wanting to return home when an army was so close to the village.

But she would miss Jessamine more than she wanted to think about.

“And leave you to your own devices? No. We’re going to rescue Elias. Then we’ll protect our home together.” Jessamine nodded to the parchment Arabella had been clutching in her hands for the last several hours. “Have you opened the map?”

Arabella sighed heavily. “Yes.”

“And…?”

“All that effort for a blank piece of parchment,” Arabella said. “We almost got killed by gargoyles for nothing.”

She’d been staring at the map for hours, which remained wholly unmarked. Only the purring of the parchment in response to her shadows let her know it was made by the shadow fae. She hoped it was the map Hadeon sought and not some other rare magical document.

They’d be royally fucked if the real map was back at the castle—and under Magnus’ control.

“I’ve tried using my shadows,” Arabella said. “But it’s made no difference.”

Hadeon had said the map was made by Prince Arden, and only other shadow fae could read it. She still found it strange that Hadeon had been friends with someone who’d been alive six hundred years ago—someone who was merely a name in a history book to her.

Someone who may be related to her.

That connection apparently didn’t matter as far as the map was concerned. No matter what she’d tried for the past several hours, the map remained unhelpfully blank.

Jessamine nodded before turning her gaze toward the horizon and the Twilight Court. “I never thought I’d see the fae lands.” Her voice no longer held the edge it had moments before. “I figured I’d remain in Shadowbank until the day a demon bested me.”

“Until Elias took me to the Twilight Court for the queen’s ball, I’d thought the same for myself.” Arabella reached out, clasping Jessamine’s hand. Calloused fingers gripped hers in return. “It’s so much more peaceful than Shadowbank.”

A sudden sadness swelled in her chest.

“None of it’s fair.” Jessamine’s voice caught for a moment.

“The fae leave us to die at the hands of demons when they have so much power. Even the land, itself, is more powerful here. They could wipe out the lesser demons that attack Shadowbank with a mere thought, and they don’t.

You saw how powerful Hadeon was. He might even be able to kill a greater demon single-handedly.

” For a long moment, all was silent. Then Jessamine said, “It makes me hate them—the fae. To have that much power and not use it to help those who need it is despicable.”

Arabella took a deep breath. “Part of me is disgusted with them, too. But after meeting the queen, another part of me wonders just how much most of the fae know about the mortal realm.”

Jessamine sniffed. “It’s on them to learn. They shouldn’t wait for their leaders to spoon-feed them—whether it’s truth or lies.”

“Perhaps they’re no different from humans,” Arabella said. “Perhaps they’re only concerned for the welfare of those they care about. And everything else is irrelevant.”

Jessamine turned to her, a hardness returning to her eyes before reluctant understanding filled them. They’d both been forced to make hard decisions in Shadowbank—deciding who to protect when there weren’t enough resources to protect everyone.

Sighing, Jessamine said, “So much has changed in a short amount of time.”

“Yes,” Arabella agreed. “It has.”

“How do you feel about trying to find the shadow fae?” Jessamine asked. “Do you think Hadeon spoke the truth about your mother?”

Shrugging, Arabella allowed her gaze to return to the dark castle. For a moment, she thought she spotted shapes flying to and from the highest turrets. But that wasn’t possible. Only a fae could see that far. Unless…

Unless there was a kernel of truth in Hadeon’s claims that she was shadow fae.

“I think Hadeon is a scheming bastard,” Arabella said. “But… I don’t think he's dishonest. I believe he’s convinced himself of my lineage—whether it’s true or not.”

“Big claim and no evidence.” Jessamine’s grip on Arabella’s hand tightened slightly. “Would you want to meet them if they’re still alive?”

Arabella shrugged. “I’ve never cared about where I came from before. They might have birthed me, but they didn’t raise me. But if they happened to be in the Abyss, I’d speak to them. I have a lot of questions about my magic. My shadows are changing.”

“How?”

“It’s difficult to explain.” Arabella shook her head, struggling to find the words. “It’s harder to control them now. They respond to my fear and anger, almost like they feel my emotions.”

“I hate to say it, but I think we could use the shadow fae’s help—if they’re alive,” Jessamine said. “When we were at the castle with Breckett, you seemed different.”

“I can feel myself changing,” Arabella admitted.

“I wonder how much of it is the mating bond versus your magic,” Jessamine said. “Maybe it’s something else we aren’t thinking of.” She snickered. “Or this could just be the new badass Arabella.”

Arabella laughed, though her heart wasn’t fully in it. “Maybe.”

There was so much out of their control.

Her magic, the army, and a sorcerer who wanted her for reasons she didn’t yet know. Not to mention the possibility of her fae lineage, Shadowbank’s patchwork ward, and no way to rescue her mate.

Restlessness filled her limbs, making it hard to remain in one place. She felt guilty allowing herself any pleasure or respite when there was so much that needed doing.

Her gaze strayed to the scroll in her lap. They’d leave for the gateway in the morning. And if they had any hope of finding the shadow fae and returning, she had to be able to read this map.