Page 33

33

C ora hadn’t been called by her first name in six years. Perhaps that was why—when next she dreamed—she saw not the shadowed halls of her nightmare but her childhood bedroom. She was face-down upon her bed, torn between shame and rage, when she heard her door open.

“Aveline Corasande Caelan,” a deep voice said from behind her, tone pitched with warning.

Cora froze. Her brother only ever used her full name when she was in trouble. Steeling her nerves, she pushed herself to sitting and faced King Dimetreus. “I did nothing wrong.”

With slow steps, he crossed the distance between them and took a seat next to her. His voice softened. “You acted brash at dinner tonight.”

Her heart sank as she met his gaze. His dark eyes were gentle, a warm smile on his lips. With his shoulder-length brown hair and olive complexion, he reminded her so much of Mother. Only his nose and the stubble on his jaw resembled their father. Being reminded of her dearly departed parents made her wish he was angry instead. His sympathy only increased her guilt.

Still, she refused to back down. “Linette acted brash first and you did nothing to defend me.”

“Linette is my wife and I love her dearly. I love you as well, Aveline, but you must learn to respect your sister-in-law. She is your queen. I need you to apologize to her.”

She bristled. “But she’s the one who lied. She’s not with child, Dimi.”

He chuckled. “Dearest sister, you’re too young to speak on such matters. You know nothing about children or their conception. Just because her belly has yet to?—”

“I know how babies are made and I know how they’re born.”

He gave her a patronizing look. “I assure you, sister, it isn’t a stork.”

“No, of course it isn’t.” She lifted her chin and put her hands on her hips. “When a man and woman feel desirous, a woman lifts her skirts and a man becomes engorged?—”

He launched to his feet, nearly tripping in the process. “Seven devils, where did you hear that?”

She blushed, realizing she must have said something improper. She was always getting in trouble for things like that. “I overheard Lady Paulette discussing a novel with Lady Madeline.”

“Banish such thoughts from your mind,” he said, wagging a finger. His cheeks were as red as beets. “Regardless of what you think you know, you mustn’t have acted as you did at dinner.”

She stood and stomped a foot. “I didn’t even want to be there. Master Benedict dragged me.”

“Aveline,” he said, his tone turning sharper, “you promised to attend dinner and you showed up late. To add insult to injury, you made a scene and upset Linette. She left the dining hall in tears. She’s been inconsolable, sobbing in bed ever since. What you said to her was cruel.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t actually curse her. I’m not a witch. I don’t know how to curse people.”

“It doesn’t matter. What you said scared her. It’s important that she is kept comfortable to keep the baby safe.”

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from arguing the fact that the queen was a liar, that she wasn’t with child and had never been. She’d learned her lesson, though. Her brother was obviously never going to listen. She’d have to wait until later to say I told you so . Perhaps in the meantime she could try to sort out why a queen would feel the need to lie about such a silly thing in the first place. She knew queens were expected to bear sons, but she couldn’t quite grasp the significance or the pressure involved. Maybe her brother was right. Maybe she was too young to speak on such complicated matters.

But still…

“I don’t want to apologize.”

Her brother’s expression softened again as he took her hand in his. “I know, but you’re a princess. The older you get the more you’ll come to understand that being royal often means doing a whole host of things you’d rather not do. Please, Cora.”

The name made her breath hitch. Only their mother had ever called her Cora, and usually only when they were alone. It was a nickname taken from her middle name—Corasande—a name that represented her mother’s homeland in the Southern Isles. If she was being honest, she preferred Cora to Aveline. Aveline sounded like a stuffy old queen like Linette while Cora was fit for someone wild and free. Like whom she’d prefer to be.

She knew Dimetreus was manipulating her by using that name, but she found it effective nonetheless. “Fine,” she ground out, “I’ll apologize. But only for pretending to curse her. Everything else I said was true.”

Her brother’s expression hardened, but he released a resigned sigh. “It’s a start. Now, get going.”

“I have to do it now?”

His only answer was a pointed look.

Shoulders slumped, she dragged her feet down the hall in the direction of the queen’s chambers. Linette had separate quarters from the king. Cora was rehearsing a stiff apology when her feet stopped moving of their own accord. A dark and hollow feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. She took another few steps but the sense of wrongness increased, prickling the hair on her arms?—

“Your Highness.”

She startled at the voice and found the queen’s youngest maid brushing by, arms laden with a serving tray bearing tea and cookies. The girl was about Cora’s age. “Where are you taking that?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

The maid paused and blushed, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. “Queen Linette, Your Highness.”

Cora walked up to her and extended her hands toward the tray. “I’ll take it.”

“But…but it’s what I’m supposed to do.” The maid stepped back, expression struck with something between terror and indignation. “A princess cannot carry a tray.”

Cora cut the girl a glare, but she only blinked back at her. With a grumbling sigh, Cora unclasped a bracelet—one of many cumbersome, shiny baubles she was forced to wear—from around her wrist and held it out to the girl. “Payment.”

“I…I can’t take that.”

“You can and you will. That’s an order. Now take it and go. I need to apologize to the queen .” She said the last part with a hefty dose of mockery.

The maid seemed too stunned to do anything but obey, her hands trembling as she passed the tray to Cora and accepted the bracelet in return. A flash of greed lit the girl’s eyes once her fingers curled fully around the item. Then, with a vibrant smile, she curtsied and darted down the opposite end of the hall.

With a proper offer of apology in hand, Cora continued to the queen’s rooms. Only then did she recall the eerie feeling that had first halted her progress. It crept into her bones once more, echoed through her blood. Shadows darkened the glow of lamplight lining the corridor. Sound became hollow as the halls emptied, dimmed, and closed in tight around her.

Cora remembered she was dreaming. With that realization came a reminder of everything she knew was coming. She struggled against her dream-self, tried to force her feet to stop. But the small version of her continued on, step after step, even as her terror grew.

Her next step brought her to the door.

The bedroom.

The blood.

Duke Morkai whirled to face her. With a devious grin, he lifted the queen’s blood from the sheets. It rose to meet his palm in thin red ribbons that he played like the strings of a lute.

Cora dropped the tray.

Her scream jolted her awake.

She blinked into dim light, found something soft against her cheek. The next thing she noticed was a rocking motion. She lifted her head, saw a shaft of pale sunlight peeking between a velvet curtain and a small window. Was it already sunrise? Another turn of her head revealed a door, leather-covered walls, and a seat beneath her draped with furs. She was in a coach. That explained the constant rocking. Perhaps that had been what had woken her. Not her scream but the jostling of the carriage.

She pushed herself to sit upright, surprised to find her hands unbound. Someone sat across from her, their upper body cast in shadow, but Cora didn’t bother waiting for her eyes to adjust. Instead, she lunged for the door?—

The bottom of a black cane smacked into the door, an inch from where her hand had been. She reeled back as the figure leaned forward. She wasn’t surprised when Morkai’s face was illuminated beneath the shaft of sunlight. He watched her with his silver-blue eyes, his lips lifted in an arrogant smile. “You’ll find every exit locked, Aveline. Or should I call you Cora? It seems that’s the name you gave the prince.”

Cora’s blood boiled at his mention of Teryn. It didn’t matter that he’d seemed shocked when Morkai had mentioned her true name, nor did she care about the regret that had clouded his energy when their eyes met. What mattered was that he’d betrayed her. That he did nothing when Morkai’s guards surrounded her. One of them had pressed a cloth to her mouth, filling her nose with an acrid scent. It was the last thing she recalled.

Her head spun. She resisted the urge to press a palm to her forehead and instead burned Morkai with a glare. “You made a mistake in locking yourself in here with me unbound.”

He scoffed, eyes falling to the ink marking her forearms. “You’re no threat to me. That’s why you’re unbound.”

She assessed his relaxed posture, the way he sat with one leg crossed over the other, his crystal-topped cane resting in his lap. One hand stroked one of the crystal’s facets while his other arm was draped over the back of his seat. He was the epitome of overconfidence. Everything about him was exactly as she remembered. His voice, his smug grin, the color of his eyes, his…face.

That was when she realized he hadn’t aged a day. She remembered him looking ancient in her eyes six years ago, the same way all adults looked old to a child, but that didn’t explain why he looked barely five years her senior now.

“How have you not aged?”

“Blood,” he said, giving no further explanation. Then he added, “It’s all right if you like what you see.”

“I don’t,” she said through her teeth. It wasn’t a lie. He might look young and beautiful, but it only fueled her disgust. Her arms begged her to reach across the coach and tear Morkai limb from limb. Then she’d climb from the carriage, find Teryn, and do the same to him. Unfortunately, she’d been disarmed while she was unconscious. Her bow and quiver were gone as was her belt, taking with it her knife and dagger. That left only magic.

She breathed in deep, letting her rage pour through her, directing it down her palms, to…to…

The blood left her face. She felt nothing.

Shaking her head, she tried again, breathing in deep. Her lungs, however, felt too shallow and her mind refused to stay in one place, refused to let her focus on her breath. She breathed in again, seeking any sign that her magic was there. A light tingle ran over her palms but that was it. Her magic lingered, just below the surface, but it felt tangled. Smothered.

By what? Was this Morkai’s doing?

Morkai’s grin widened. “I told you, Aveline. You’re no threat to me.”

She bit back her retort and forced herself to mirror his composure. Leaning back in her seat, she asked with feigned calm, “What do you intend to do with me?”

His answer came easily. “I’m taking you home to Ridine Castle, of course.”

She huffed a dark laugh. “To be sent back to the dungeon? To be executed at last? Why did you even bother freeing me from the dungeon six years ago if you were only going to hunt me down later?”

“Whether you return to the dungeon upon our arrival at the castle is up to you. Should I will it, I can have you reclaim your rightful place as princess.”

Her stomach flipped. She’d never dreamed of regaining her title. Had never wanted it back. Not after everything that had happened. Not after her brother had turned his back on her and condemned her. She’d let her old identity die the night she fled the castle and never said a word of the truth to anyone. Never enlightened any of the Forest People who’d brought up the poor princess’ death.

“I can tell you don’t believe me,” Morkai said, “but I promise you it’s true.”

He was right. She didn’t believe a word he said. “The world thinks I’m dead. How do you plan on resurrecting me?”

“That’s a simple matter, for here you are breathing. Try bringing someone who’s truly dead back to the realm of the living. That, my dear, is a far greater challenge but one I daresay will not be out of my reach for long.”

Her mouth went dry at his words. She hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, but it left a queasy feeling in her stomach. It did bring to mind a question that had haunted her these last six years.

“Who did you kill in my stead?”

“Just a maid wearing Princess Aveline’s bracelet. So, in a way, you killed her. I couldn’t have chosen better myself.”

Fury surged through her. She balled her hands tight and considered launching herself at him. She may not have weapons, but she had fingernails. Teeth. Arms for punching and legs for kicking?—

“Easy,” he said. His knuckles went white on his cane. “One move from you and I’ll rescind my offer to restore your title.”

She deepened her glare but forced herself to ease back against her seat. Not because she was interested in hearing his offer but because she still had many questions. “I don’t understand how you did it. My brother thinks a maid killed his sister, but I’m the one he convicted, knowing full well who I was when he found me with the queen.”

“He was so deep in grief, he knew not what he saw. I reminded him of that when we found dear little Aveline’s body. She was so swollen from whatever poison the maid had given her that she was barely recognizable. It wasn’t hard to get him to accept a new truth.”

A cold shiver ran down her spine. “You brainwashed him.”

“Your brother has always been a weak-minded man.”

“And yet you serve him most loyally.”

His eyes took on a vicious gleam. “Do I, Aveline? Or does he serve me in every way?”

She swallowed hard. In all these years, she’d let herself despise her brother. Morkai had always held the greatest fault in her mind, but Dimetreus had stood by and accepted lie after lie while ignoring every truth she’d told him. When her brother found her with his dead wife’s body, he didn’t hesitate for more than a second before he condemned her. He heard not a word as she argued her case. He shed not a tear as he had his guards drag her into a cell beneath the castle.

What if Dimetreus’ reaction hadn’t been entirely his fault? If Morkai could manipulate the king into changing his own memories…what else could he do?

“What do you want from me?” she asked, a slight tremble building in her voice. Whether it was from fear or anger she knew not.

“To talk.”

“You must want to do more than talk to offer 500,000 sovas for my capture. How did you do it anyway? The poster. My likeness couldn’t have been sketched on a guess.”

He rubbed his amber crystal again. “I kept a drop of your blood.”

Her eyes went wide. It took all her restraint to keep from flexing the palm he’d once cut. “Why did you take it in the first place?”

“That’s not for you to know right now. Besides, I’m not finished answering your previous question. I kept a drop of your blood which was just enough to catch glimpses of you over the years.”

“Why did you…”

“Why did I want to check in on you?” He barked an indignant laugh. “How can you ask that, Aveline? Do you think I released you from the dungeon to be cruel? You were a child. I was curious to know if you survived.”

She noted that he said he was curious if she survived, not that he cared if she had.

“By the way, where have you been these last six years?” His gaze swept over her briefly, landing again on her tattoos. “Those are interesting markings. Faeryn insigmora .”

Her heart leapt into her throat. She hadn’t expected him to recognize her tattoos. He was a dark witch, a mage, not a…

Her eyes wandered over his face, taking in his uncommon beauty. His sharp cheekbones. The slightest blue tinge to his black hair. And his ears…how had she never noticed the angled edge before? They weren’t exactly pointed, but neither were they totally round. Could he be of Faeryn descent?

She shook the thoughts from her mind. What mattered most was that he’d asked where she’d been. That meant there was a chance the Forest People were safe from his knowledge. “Don’t you already know where I’ve been? You confessed to spying on me through a drop of my blood.”

He glanced at his nails with disinterest. “I saw your face, not your surroundings.”

Relief swept over her, but she hid it behind a shrug. “I’ve been right where you left me. In the woods.”

“In the woods,” he echoed, his eyes narrowing, “where you just so happened to become marked with insigmora .”

She held his gaze, her lips pursed tight.

The coach came to a stop.

“Ah, we’re here.” He leaned forward with a quirked brow. “What’s it going to be, Aveline? Do I escort you from this coach as my prisoner or a princess?”

She bit her lip as a spike of panic laced through her. She still had so many unanswered questions. The hunters. The Beast. The unicorns.

“Only one of those choices will let you see your brother again,” he said, a hint of taunting in his voice.

Her pulse quickened at his mention of Dimetreus. Her brother. The king. A man she’d come to hate almost as much as the duke. A man who may or may not have been controlled by a powerful mage.

There was only one way to find out. She took a deep breath and hoped Morkai couldn’t hear her lie.

“I want to be a princess again.”

“Well then,” Morkai said, opening the coach door. “Welcome home.”