Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Mordeus?” I ask, not looking at her.
She’s quiet for a long time before replying. I can feel the tension rolling off her, can feel her stress. “They’re saying he’s been resurrected. Finn and I are meeting with the palace sentinels today to add extra security to the gates and doors. But these rumors might not even be true.”
My jaw aches. I focus on relaxing it before I break a tooth. “Queen Mab was resurrected,” I say. The resurrection of the first Unseelie queen is a story Abriella drills into me. In this court, our great-great-who-knows-how-many-greats-grandmother is honored as much as any god. Her blood is the reason Brie sits on the Throne of Shadows and the reason I, born human, am destined to become fae on my eighteenth birthday. For generations before my sister and I were born, the children from Mab’s bloodline were born and lived as humans in Elora, their royal, magical blood hidden from everyone—even themselves. It was the best way Mab could protect her progeny from the wrath of her enemies, but it seems that mercy ended with us. “If Mab can return from the dead, why not Mordeus?”
“The gods favored Mab and rewarded her for her selfless love,” Brie says. “It is not the same.”
I flash her a skeptical glance. If I’ve learned anything during my time with the fae, it’s that they are as clever as they are evil. I have little doubt that Mordeus could’ve had a plan in place that would’ve allowed his people to bring him back in the event of an assassination. “What happened to his body—after you killed him?”
Brie draws in a long, measured breath and holds my gaze. “I don’t know. But if I could do it again, I would’ve stayed and watched him burn. If he’s back, it’s my fault, and I will not let you be a consequence of that failure.”
“I want to stay here.” I want to find him myself. I want to end him myself.
“I promise that I’ll have you back here in time for your eighteenth birthday.”
I flinch at the mention of that looming date. When I got the ring, a year seemed like so much time. Now I only have nine months left, and I fear it won’t be nearly enough.
Her boots scuff the stone floors as she turns to me. The hand she places on my shoulder is warm and tentative. “Sooner if possible.”
Hot, angry tears fill my eyes.
“Don’t be scared,” Brie says, misinterpreting my emotion. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
She doesn’t understand that feeling safe isn’t my problem. I’m used to the endless fear. But I’m not scared of Mordeus hurting me. I’m scared that my sister will send me away before I can finish what I started. I only have until my eighteenth birthday. I forfeit any days beyond that when I traded my immortality for a magical ring.
The swamps in the north of my sister’s territory smell of rot and festering filth that makes my eyes water.
Gommid curls his skinny lip as he surveys the bubbling greenish muck surrounding the sparse trees. “The human faerie uses her favors in strange ways.”
I can’t risk my sister sending me to the Wild Fae Lands before I track down Mordeus, so as soon as she and Finn left for their meeting, I donned my magical ring and summoned Gommid.
“The human is not a faerie,” I remind him. I hate when he calls me that. Human faerie. That’s not even a thing. I pat the pockets of my cloak, reassuring myself that my ring is secure in the hidden pocket where I tucked it away to use when darkness falls. Wearing the ring even for the brief minutes it took me to escape the watchful eyes of my sister’s sentries left me feeling weak and queasy.
When the witch I bought it from warned me to only use it at night, her explanation was that all magic must be balanced. Apparently, my ring’s magic is balanced by making me ill if I try to use its power in the daylight.
The swamp belches, sending a putrid breeze my way, and the lingering nausea surges in my throat.
Gommid extends a hand. “I do not work for free, Princess.”
I dig a tooth from the pocket of my cloak and drop it into his waiting palm.
His already bulging eyes widen. “A fine incisor from an Unseelie sentinel. You did not remove this yourself.” It’s not a question.
I shrug. “The guards who were sparring on the practice mats next to me this afternoon were a little aggressive. When one spit out a bloody tooth, I claimed it as my own.”
He tucks it into his pocket. “Mine now.”
“What do you do with them?”
He grins, showing off his own mouthful of pointy teeth. “What will you give me for that information?”