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Chapter eleven

Long Shadows

Zayne

To her credit, Ayla’s hesitance to the Starlit King’s request, with her eyes wide and a growing blush, gave the illusion of an awestruck admirer. Only I could feel the way the attention set her nerves on fire.

She’s so much better at pretending than she thinks.

I hoped she could feel some of my admiration.

She stood taller, approaching the King and his fellow fae. The two had taken one of the many small, circular tables now strewn throughout the pavilion, each claimed by a royal house or merchant guild. The chatter was light, everyone waiting for the discussion to begin.

“How can I be of service?” she asked, reaching the king.

“We were wondering, with regards to the loyalty of their people, how does it sway?”

Ayla cocked her head, clearly confused by the question. “The queen is well loved.”

“Queen Aveline is ill.”

Ayla blanched. “I didn’t know.”

The king’s secretary, surrounded by parchments, spoke up. “The queen’s condition has been kept quiet, but we have contacts within the court. And if we’re in the business of asking you about Valterran sentiment, you should also know that the queen’s bastard has gone mysteriously missing.”

“Princess Ayla?” She swallowed. “The part-fae eldest.”

The Starlit King leaned closer. “Did you know her?”

Ayla shrugged. “I’ve seen her. We visited some of the same fiddle bars—Valterra only has so many of them—but we never did more than dance.” She took a steadying breath, and I sent her all the calm I could muster. “What happened?”

The secretary answered. “To the bastard princess? She vanished on the night of Princess Mariana’s coronation ball, so it’s thought she ran away out of spite.

As for the Valterran Queen” —he sighed— “she’s taken to her rooms and sees almost no one but her daughters and the physicians.

My correspondents can tell me nothing more. ”

“She doesn’t see the King Consort?” Ayla asked.

“It seems not.”

“Which is the reason we’re curious,” the Starlit King continued. “If something has happened to their beloved queen, who are the Valterran people more loyal to, the King Consort or the Princess Heir?”

Ayla glanced away, deep in thought, her concerns radiating into me. The whole situation was alarmingly relevant to this assembly. Grayson, the King Consort, had only married the Queen to secure an alliance for the movement of fae goods.

He was a prince of a southern kingdom—one of many countries that sprawled across the continent beyond the mountain ranges that separated Valterra from the remainder of the human kingdoms. In the years since the collapse, while fae goods had become sparse in Valterra, they had become exceptionally rare further south.

If Grayson took control of Valterra, he would certainly facilitate the movement of fae goods further south. It had always been his goal.

Finally, Ayla answered. “Why would the people have to choose between them? I thought the King Consort and Princess Heir were friendly, so she would ascend, and he would support her. After all, she is his firstborn.”

“So they say,” the secretary agreed. “But the news that the queen refuses to see her husband is a strange development.”

Ayla shrugged. “Either way, it would be a surprise if anyone but Princess Mariana ascends. It’s what the people expect.”

“Indeed.”

Ayla glanced toward the nearby steps where Rhett, Iona, and Calindra were finally approaching. “Beyond that, I’m not sure I can be of much help. Apologies, Your Highness.”

She scampered off, eager to join her ‘cousin,’ her heart hammering even faster than before. I frowned. For all that the queen had gone to great lengths to block Ayla’s magic, Ayla still didn’t wish her mother ill, and the news had clearly shaken her.

Rhett claimed an empty table, and as Ayla sat beside him, he leaned closer, whispering in her ear.

I stepped closer so I could hear. “Calindra’s furious.

Since she no longer has legal authority over Iona, like when we were teens, she can’t control Iona’s choices.

But she can make it very difficult for Iona to leave Mer. ”

“What does Iona want?” Ayla asked.

Rhett watched Iona, now gliding into a seat toward the front at a table she shared with her mother. “To be honest, there hasn’t been time to ask, but if you’re looking for dramatic distractions, it looks like you’ll have it.”

I didn’t doubt it. Everyone was now glancing between Rhett and Iona, the whispers already stirring.

Clearing her throat, Calindra stood, patting Iona’s shoulder as she addressed the room. “If we’re all here, let’s begin,” she continued, setting an agenda for the day. “Soon we should be celebrating our new agreement, one that sets a clear precedent of how the Isles will trade with Valterra.”

Pens began to scratch, royalty yawned, and I settled into one of the few remaining shadows of the bright room.

First order of business, the Starlit King’s secretary recapped why trade had changed and how the shades had fallen. Only…

Their version of events was quite different from mine.

Ayla impressed me, her expression remaining interested and curious, as if she hadn’t actually been there for the events in question. As for myself, I was fortunate to hide in the shadows where I could fume in peace.

The way the secretary told the story, once Eleanor had been denied public permission by the Starlit King to claim her throne, he had apologized in private, giving her resources to complete the task in secret. Allegedly, the deception was to ensure Inarus’s spies didn’t suspect her arrival.

Lies.

“They were successful, but their success depended upon means we didn’t account for,” the secretary continued.

My skin crawled, wondering what level of deception they were weaving next. None of it explained why the Starlit King would go through such lengths to create a false narrative.

The secretary cleared his throat. “We have learned that through their fight, Zayne, the Shadow Prince, fell to the dark persuasion of his former teacher. He destroyed Inarus through necromantic means.”

Ah.

There it was.

Abruptly, whispers broke out throughout the room, some crying out with disgust. Despite the fury raging in my chest, I cautioned my shadows to remain close.

Perhaps in this case, the truth was far worse than a lie.

A merchant stood to shout. “You mean the shades can return at any time?”

“Fortunately, Prince Zayne would have to rebuild the army, and since the isle is largely uninhabited, any attempts to do so would take time.”

“No wonder the Shadow Prince showed such a poor aptitude for conventional shadow magic,” a member of the Dawn Court mused.

The secretary nodded. “His powers were dulled within the Starlit Court. Another reason our king was merciful to host the exiled siblings.”

Another asked, “Is he still working with his sister, the Shadow Queen?”

“We don’t know.”

The questions continued, and I watched, increasingly frustrated by how easily the Starlit King pulled the strings.

What’s his endgame?

I didn’t dare make my move until I was sure.

For the remainder of the day, I lingered in the shadows, watching and listening, eager to learn any breadcrumb I could gleam. The talks continued, and soon, the Starlit King’s excessive port fees became the assembly’s focus.

Calindra listened to it all with meticulous notetaking, and soon Lord Tallus passed her a hastily written note. She replied just as quickly, their parchment traveling back and forth with their scribbles. Curious, I tried to get closer.

Iona turned to me, her gaze sharp upon my location.

Startled, I lurched backwards, further to the shadows.

Slowly, her attention shifted back to the assembly, but I didn’t dare get that close again.

The day went on.

Every now and then, someone asked Ayla something.

They asked her how much value humans had for such-and-such fae good, or if the humans would be interested in something that had never been sold before.

She handled it with ease, lying just enough to pretend her knowledge was that of a merchant and not a palace education.

Over lunch, they argued about what sort of port fees the Starlit King could be talked down to. Meanwhile, the Starlit King himself was careful to stay to the prepared script and there were no slips for me to pry from. Little caught my attention as the day yawned on.

At least, until the late afternoon break.

Queen Reina of Wisp approached the Starlit King, her dragon wings revealed, making a fierce display.

What does she want from him?

It surprised me she was even present. The dragon fae tended to stay on their distant volcanic island. She had been quiet through the proceedings, huddling over a table with her mate, taking notes, and referencing ledgers of her own.

After all, Wisp had been trading with humans far longer than anyone else, and they had their own ways about it. Despite their limited ports—their isle more volcano than land—they remained the only other isle who could claim proximity to Valterra.

“You wear it so proudly,” she addressed the Starlit King without preamble.

“Ah, Reina, it has been too long. Would you like to reconsider using the Starlit Isle’s ports? Once, they served you so well—”

“You stole that dagger from Wisp.”

Ah. I’d heard rumors of the dragon blades, divine weapons that Wisp never intended to make. They’d been scattered before Reina ascended, and she’d spent the last century hunting the blades down.

I’d seen the dark dagger the Starlit King wore my entire life, but I’d never given it a second thought. It was always with him, and I assumed it belonged to his bloodline.

If the blade was one of Wisp’s lost dragon blades, it was something he kept secret.

The Starlit King shook his head. “We’ve been arguing about this for a century. I found the blade. I went on a grand quest to find it. While I’m sorry that the dragon fae lost it, what’s done is done.”

“It’s valuable, we’re in agreement,” she leveled with him. “But tell me, what can I give you in exchange for its return? Our treasure rooms are far more splendid than the last time I offered.”

The Starlit King sneered, his face fiercer than I had ever seen as he gripped the hilt. “Never. It’s mine, Reina. Accept that and leave me be. The dragon blade will always be mine.”