Page 6 of Seduced By Darkness

She’s out there. The woman I’m meant to marry.

Maia wouldn’t have granted me a glimpse of her face all those years ago, if she meant me to be bound to another.

Something softens in Thalia’s eyes. She alone knows the truth of what I saw. “It’s been five hundred years since you were granted that vision, Thi. If she was out there—”

“If she’s out there,” I grind out, “then I can’t bind myself to another. Ican’t.” Not even for my country.

Not even forFinn?

My breath catches. I know the answer to that. He’s my brother-at-arms. My ally. My friend. Five hundred years ago he saved my life on the battlefield and I can never repay that.

“I will… meet with Lucere.” Even saying those words feels like dying a little on the inside.

For five hundred years I’ve been holding onto a dream, clinging to it at times with the desperate need of a man hanging from the edge of a cliff by his fingertips.

I can’t give up.

The woman I saw has to be out there somewhere.

But if this is the cost of Finn’s freedom….

He saved my life.

Can I do any less?

2

Iskvien

The first day of the queensmoot dawns bright and golden as my mother’s servants set up the tents. Asturian colors flutter in the breeze as a warning as to whose quadrant this is.

Beyond them rise a sea of tents, clinging to a gently sloping hillside that envelops a circular valley. The tents of the Seelie Alliance stretch almost halfway around the valley. The sight makes my breath catch.

There are hundreds of fae here.

Thousands.

And tonight they will sing and dance and seek to drive away the restless spirits that haunt Arcaedia on nights like these. I’ve seen paintings of the queensmoot and heard all the tales, but this is the first time I’ve ever attended.

Asturia is granted the land right on the flank, and everywhere you look there’s a sea of red and gold. My mother’s rose, thorn and crown standard rises above her tent. She’s somewhere within, no doubt plotting ruin for some poor soul.

I don’t want to know.

I never want to know what she’s up to.

That doesn’t mean I always get my wish.

Beside us stands the Askan encampment with its golden serpent leering from a dark green background.

And then the burgundy of Ravenal, with a black crow picked out in stark relief upon their flag.

The blue and silver of Stormlight is next, and right at the end, as far away from the Asturian camp as one can possibly get, squats the sinister black and silver of Evernight.

I can see the moon in eclipse on their banners. It looks like some malevolent wolf swallowing down the sun. Seven stars twinkle in the black velvet; one for every tear that Roswyn, a long-dead queen of Evernight, shed when a curse settled over her kingdom, drawing endless night down over the north of her country.

A shiver runs through me as I tear my gaze away.

Best not to look to Evernight, even though I can’t help being insatiably curious.