Page 21

M oonlight streamed like a pale river through the empty palace hallways. It cast a white glow over the faery prince as we walked hand in hand, his lips pulled into a proud smile. It’d been a while since I’d seen him this happy. Too bad it wouldn’t last long. Once Prince Raphael was healed, the only kingdoms I’d be returning to were my own and Lukas’s.

How Arenn would take that sounded like a problem for another day.

Our footsteps echoed along the sandstone floors until we reached a small set of stairs leading to the young prince’s bedchamber. I was just about to take the first step when panic flashed across Arenn’s face.

“Wait a moment,” he hissed, dragging me into a shadowed alcove. “I should glamour us both first. You’re still probably wanted by the guards – since I doubt Erik’s order has reached much further than the dungeons – and I can’t see them wanting me anywhere near the prince.”

My eyes narrowed. Now that he mentioned it, who was Arenn pretending to be here? He couldn’t exactly reveal to the rest of the nobility that he was a faery prince in hiding, waiting to kidnap me. Not that he would explain it like that, I supposed.

A giggle burst from me at the thought. Ancients, I really was tired.

“What?” Arenn grumbled. “Why do you laugh at me?”

I tilted my chin up, still smiling. “Who even are you here?” Arenn’s brow quirked. “Obviously Lukas, Raena, and I know who you are – even with your human ears.” I glanced at them pointedly. “But what lie are you giving to everyone else?”

His shoulders sagged briefly before his wicked grin returned. “Curious human,” he mused. “But the answer to that question really depends on who’s asking me.” Reaching forward, he spun a lock of my hair around his finger. “I told Cora and Ronan I was a lord from Drothmore. The Dalkings think I belong to Hallshire and the Hallshires think I’m from Dalking, or perhaps I’m misremembering…”

I rolled my eyes while he thought.

“I suppose the details don’t matter when you’re charming enough.” I folded my arms, pushing his fingers away from my hair.

Arenn grinned. “You find me charming?”

Scoffing, I stepped back. “Just glamour us, please, so I can help the prince before his condition gets any worse.”

“It is done already,” Arenn purred with a flourish of his fingers.

“But you’re still—” I stopped myself when I remembered how his appearance hadn’t changed before when he glamoured us in Faelenna. I didn’t feel any different either.

Glancing down at my hands, they still looked just as pale as ever. “Fine, let’s go,” I said after a few short breaths. I didn’t care how we looked to other people. As long as the guards let us through, that’s all that mattered.

“Just follow my lead,” Arenn said with a grin. Slipping his hand into mine, he whisked us both up the narrow staircase.

As we approached the small door that led to Raphael’s bedchamber, the sleepy guards on either side panicked for a moment before bowing deeply.

“Queen Cora and King Ronan,” the left guard called out to us. I shot a glance at Arenn. Of all the glamours he could’ve chosen… “Forgive us, we thought you had returned to your chambers to rest,” the guard spluttered.

“You cannot expect us to rest for long when our son is ill,” Arenn declared, marching us closer to the door.

I tilted my head. It was odd seeing him act so seriously.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Dipping his head, the guard swung the door open, and we stepped inside the dark room.

The moment the door clicked shut, I pulled Arenn aside, whispering, “Stay back. If it’s fishpox, I don’t want you to catch it.” I didn’t know if being a faery granted him any immunity from human illnesses but still – better safe than sorry.

“So you do care?” Arenn murmured.

Growling, I was about to tell him how I cared more about him possibly infecting the entirety of Faelenna when he returned home, alone . But then a quiet, weak voice carried through the darkness, along with the overwhelming stench of seawater.

“Mother? Did you come back? Is that you?”

Raphael . My heart ached. “Unglamour me,” I hissed to Arenn.

The faery prince tilted his head.

“Just do it,” I pleaded, keeping my voice low. “I won’t pretend to be his mother, and Raphael likes me. He won’t alert the guards.”

With a sigh, Arenn nodded and hesitantly pushed me away from the wall. “Just don’t take too long. I’ll stay out of sight,” he whispered before slinking back into the shadows.

Darkness hung over the prince’s room like a heavy veil, but eventually, with the light of the moon, I could just about make out the shape of a grand bed and someone stirring beneath the blankets.

“Raphael?” I called softly. “It’s me, Naria. I’m here to help you.”

“Princess Naria?” His voice was weak. “What are you doing here? Did you come to make me better?”

Padding over to his bedside, I fumbled around his nightstand for a candle. “I’m going to try my best. I promise.” My fingers landed on a candle along with a matchbox, just as another foul waft of damp beaches slammed into me. I wrinkled my nose at the smell.

Striking the match, I brought the flame to the wick – only to drop the dwindling match and leap back at the sight of poor Raphael.

His skin glistened with sweat from his forehead to his bare feet, which stuck out beneath his damp white bedsheet. The tips of his fingers were tinged green while they grasped the edge of his blanket.

But his arms bore no black spots – the typical sign of fishpox. Instead, the most obvious marking of his illness were the ghastly limpet-like sores on his face and neck. No. Not sores. Actual limpets . Their shells dug into his skin, dark green veins throbbing where they had latched.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, swallowing my shock. But the more I stared, the more I had to resist the urge to run out of his bedchamber. Something like seaweed appeared to grow between his dark curls. And when his eyes met mine, like two dark wells of pain, he made a choking sound as water spouted from his mouth. As if he was drowning in the middle of his bed.

“This isn’t fishpox,” I breathed, shaking my head.

“What’s wrong with me?” Raphael whimpered. “Father was really worried, Naria. Am I going to die?”

“No.” My answer was firm. Raphael wasn’t going anywhere. Not if I could help it.

Wiping off the shock from my face, I stooped down to his bedside. “Listen to me, Raphael. You need to tell me when and where your symptoms started. Did you eat something unusual, or go anywhere new?” I wasn’t sure if a bad meal could cause sea creatures to sprout from someone’s face, but I had to start somewhere.

Raphael’s brow furrowed while he thought. “I… I’m not sure,” he croaked. “I don’t really remember how this started.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and I wanted so desperately to take his hand. But I had no idea how contagious he was.

“I remember… someone, I think?” he finally said. Perhaps this was who he caught it from? “I was playing on the beach and then—” His weak voice cut off as he winced in pain.

“Oh, Raphael,” I whimpered. Damning the consequences, I took his hand, but then my lips parted as the strangest sensation pulsed through me. It was as if I could feel his sickness, eating him from the inside out. I held his hand tighter while he writhed against his pillow. There was something so familiar about the feeling. I’d felt this before. Not long ago. In Ikelos’s bedchamber when I’d taken the cursed king’s hand.

Cursed .

“This is a curse,” I murmured. But who would do this? And why?

Raphael’s eyes pried open. “What did you say?”

Reluctantly, I released his hand to rise from his bedside. “I’m going to find a way to help you. I promise.” I said, not missing the doubt flickering in his eyes. “But for now, I’m going to find you some medicine to make you more comfortable.” I’d start with sleeping powder. Then Ivy and I could work together on something for his fever, and I knew Marius brewed an excellent anti-nausea draught. “You’re going to feel so much better come this time tomorrow,” I reassured him.

Leaving Raphael to sleep, I blew out the candle and padded back over to where Arenn still lingered by the back wall.

“Is there no saving him?” he whispered, voice low enough to not be heard by the wheezing prince.

“He’ll live. I’ll make sure of it.”

Arenn huffed. “Were we looking at the same prince? Surely you saw his face?” His tone made me shudder. “I give him a week at best.”

“He’ll live,” I said again, louder, as thoughts raced through my mind. Was this the merfolk? That servant, Mae, had mentioned we weren’t supposed to talk about them. Did Cora hate the merfolk just as much as Ikelos hated the fae? Was there some kind of conflict between them, bad enough for the merfolk to curse Raphael?

“I still give him a week.” Arenn shrugged as my scowl deepened. “But tell me, what’s your grand plan to save him, human?”

“Like I said, I’ll make him comfortable first. Then I need to talk to Lukas,” I explained quietly. “If this was the merfolk’s doing, then perhaps they can undo it somehow. I’ll just need to persuade them, and Lukas can help with that.”

Arenn frowned, folding his arms. “Why not just leave this problem with him then?” He leaned back against the wall. “They’re his family, not yours. Let’s just leave now. I’ll take you home.” When he reached up to touch my face, I pushed his hand away.

“I already told you, I’m not going anywhere until he’s healed.” I ignored the simmering rage in his eyes. “Now, you can glamour us again so I can leave this room and start making his medicine, or we can stand here in the dark and argue all night.”

Arenn’s lips curved into a smile. “I’d always rather stay with you, human,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

Scoffing, I took a long step back. “Goodnight, Arenn.” Then I marched out of the door before he could stop me.