Marlak nods, his eyes distant, thinking. I’m here wondering if the Witch King transcended, or maybe if the fire didn’t work because I wielded it instead of Marlak. I’m wondering if there’s a way to kill my sinister ancestor, and hoping he doesn’t decide to come here tonight. And then, I’m also wondering how we can hope to escape this place in the morning. There won’t be any ghouls, but this is the giant’s territory.
Marlak is powerful, but can he fight dozens of giants?
18
RENEL
Tarlia leaned into Ziven’s touch. Leaned into his touch—and the image won’t leave my mind.
In the maelstrom of emotions taking over my mind, amidst the dangers looming over all the fae lands, I didn’t need to feel that. Is that what they call jealousy? Why does it turn me inside out? Why do I suddenly hate her, hate Ziven, hate everything?
I try to stuff down those useless thoughts as I follow the guards up the stairs, wondering what Queen Berta has in store for us. And then I want to strangle my brother. What kind of idiot offends the queen of another court? He might think he’s untouchable with all his powerful magic, but that’s not how a king should behave. Wasn’t he so desperate to call himself king of the Crystal Court? He should haveactedlike a king. I wonder if I should have fought harder, should have tried to remain in control of the court. And then, the truth is that now, somehow, Zorwal is the one in control, and that’s what we need to solve first.
We climb up to the castle’s entrance, then to Berta’s mezzanine, where she usually receives guests. She’s already there, sitting at a high chair, her legs crossed, as she eyes us with a strange mix of curiosity and disdain.
“Let’s get straight to the point.” Her voice is steely but not hostile. “You want access to my library. Is that correct?”
Berta has more than one library, and her words could be a trick, so I say, “The library with the older collection.”
She chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Obviously. I’ll take you there, and let you peruse it, with a few stipulations. Before you go there, you’ll have dinner and tell me what’s happening. Now, here’s the important part. You will tell nobody from any other court that I gave you access to these books, and will share the information in them only with the people who absolutely need to know it. Second, you will be careful with the books. I’ll give you paper and ink for notes, but you cannot remove a single book from the library. Third, you’ll leave the books you consult on the tables, and won’t try to put them back on the shelves. Fourth, and this is unrelated to the library. After you leave the castle, if you learn that trouble is coming my way, you’ll find a way to warn me.”
“I can do that,” I say.
“I want promises! And promises that you’ll ensure your human companions also keep your promises.” She points at me. “A promise from you, former acting king, and from you.” She points at Mirella. “Former dead princess, apparently future acting queen. Is that not so?”
Mirella shows no reaction and says, “Not right now, no.”
“Interesting. Now promise.”
I clear my throat. “I won’t tell anyone from another court that you helped me, unless they’re among the group who absolutely needs to know this information. I won’t put the books back on the shelves. I’ll take notes using the paper you give me. I won’ttake any books out of the library. I’ll find a way to warn you if things go wrong and your court is in danger, and I’ll ask my human companions to do the same.”
Mirella repeats my words, her tone lacking any emotion. No anger, no fear, not even any of her previous pride and haughtiness. For a second, I wonder if she’s changed, but I know that if I let my guard down, she’ll use the opportunity to hurt me.
The queen snaps a finger. “Dinner time!”
In a few seconds, servants bring wine, fruit, some unknown venison, and bread. They set a table by some windows, where we sit. The queen takes a place by my side, and Mirella sits across from me, beside Ziven and Tarlia, who barely looks in my direction. I wonder if it’s because I mentioned her name when Berta was threatening to drop us, but it’s not like I can explain it now.
What I do is try to be friendly with the queen, despite everything. I wasn’t meaning to tell her about the Witch King, but at this point, I have no choice, so I tell her that he’s in his prison in the Shadow Lands and that Marlak is on his way to kill him or perhaps has already killed him, then I tell her that we are supposed to research his anchors, and even tell him that Zorwal might be one of them. It’s more than I’d like to tell a queen I don’t trust, but it’s true that we need her help.
“Anchors…” She looks up. “That doesn’t sound like fae magic. I think… you might need to look at older Tiurian records.”
“I’ll do that.” I didn’t tell her about Astra or even about my vile stepfather’s journals, and I’m glad she doesn’t ask many questions. I get a feeling that, oddly, she would rather not know too much, that she would rather not have any secrets that could compromise her. And that’s why she doesn’t anyone to know she’s helping us.
If everything goes wrong, she’ll have to kneel to the Witch King. I hope it doesn’t come to that. It shouldn’t, right? Marlakshould have killed him by now, and all we have to do is figure out a way to get rid of Zorwal and Otavio. In fact, fire might be all that’s needed, and we’re here for no reason.
But then why is my heart tight with worry? Why do I have a feeling everything is about to go wrong?
AZUR
I’ve been in this cage for a long time, my anxiety squeezing my already struggling chest.
Breathing is harder than I expected. The air I fought so hard to keep with me is stuffy, old, and no longer brings any sustenance to my lungs. At this depth, the minuscule air bubbles are too few and far, hardly enough to help me breathe. I don’t want to transcend away, when the Sea Court is my only solution, and when I’m so weak that if I tried to go too far, I’m sure I’d end up in the Witch King’s grasp, enslaved to his command.
What I found were particles of breathable air in the water, but it takes so much magic to get them. Any other fae with less power would have died by now. The Sea Court is indeed ruthless.
My thoughts veer away from this place, and I think about Lidiane, alone on that island.
She’s safe, and yet I look back and wonder if I should have warned her, if I should have said a proper goodbye. Terror overwhelmed me so much that I transcended away as fast as I could, and now I want to go back and tell her… I don’t even know what. Is there a word that wouldn’t split my heart in two?
