I still recall the moment when she blocked the air from flowing to my lungs. “You approached us in the most hostile manner possible.”
“I know. But I had to do that, to keep pretending. Marlak thinks I’m evil, does he not?”
“No. He thinks you were brainwashed by Zorwal, and he was hoping that once he killed him, he’d be able to get you back on his side. Were you pretending all along?”
“What did you think? That I changed my mind?” Her eyes are shining brighter, and I realize they have unshed tears.
“Something changed, didn’t it? If you were previously following Zorwal.”
She wipes a tear from her face and takes a deep breath. When I’m almost changing the subject, thinking she won’t reply, she says, “The years on that island, they were horrible. Horrible, horrible. But they were peaceful at the same time. It’s like I gained clarity. And when I came back, something in me was different. Perhaps there were bonds tying me to Zorwal that were cut either when the lower fae were freed, or when I wasfreed. Something changed. And I saw him for what he was. All at once, it became clear. All his scheming, his manipulation. Then I saw myself for the stupid child I was. So stupid.”
Mirella closes her eyes and pauses, her chest trembling with emotion, then continues, “But he didn’t notice it. He didn’t notice I had changed. And that’s when I decided it was my opportunity for revenge. My opportunity to get close to him and learn how to destroy him. My goal was not to kill him. I figured it would be too easy, too fast. I wanted him to suffer for what he made me go through. And then I saw you. I mean I saw all of you on that island. I learned that Zorwal cannot be killed. I learned he’s more dangerous than I expected. That made me afraid. But… more than that, I wanted some of that joy, that friendship. Your little group kept showing up in my visions, sometimes blurry and distant, sometimes clear, but you were all so happy. You were working together for a goal. I figured I wanted to be part of that. I didn’t want to take Zorwal on my own. And yet now… I fear that even when I get to that house, I’ll still look at everyone through some kind of blurry lens, as if I wasn’t there. Marlak might have gone to great lengths to save me, but he can’t make me belong, can he?”
Her description of us as some tight-knit group feels odd, considering how much some people there hate each other, but I don’t want to contradict her. “Well, we can not belong together, what do you think?”
“Youbelong. It’s why you’re here. Why you came with Marlak to my rescue.”
“I don’t think I do. In fact, all my life, when I lived in the castle, when I was around my cousins and other royals, I felt like that, as if a thick glass separated me from the others. It felt so horrible that I preferred to do things on my own. It was not that I enjoyed being alone, but that loneliness hurt less when I wasn’t surrounded by people.”
She frowns. “You’re friendly and everyone likes you. That’s hard to believe.”
“It’s a mask. The useless prince. It’s how I survived. Perhaps here, in fae lands, my mask is the useful human prince—or heroic human prince.”
“Deep down, does it hurt? When you’re trying to help?”
The question—and my answer—surprise me. “No. Even when Marlak was being an ass to me, it didn’t bother me. I don’t know why.”
“Because it’s not a mask. You like helping others.”
I’m stunned. “Maybe. But I still wouldn’t say I belong to the group on the island. And it’s not like we have an official badge. The invitation to not belong with me still stands.”
She shakes her head. “My father didn’t like the lower fae.Ididn’t like them. But I don’t like the person I was. I don’t like the way I saw others. Telling myself I was superior didn’t make me feel better. It was hollow.”
“You gained quite some wisdom in these years. Few people are capable of reflecting on themselves.”
“I wouldn’t call it wisdom. It’s like a crust collapsing. But what’s inside?”
“You’ll have to figure it out.”
“Where should I start?” Her look is earnest, open.
“Perhaps…” She’s going to hate what I’m going to tell her, but if she truly wants some advice, I have to give it to her. “You could start by not telling your stepbrother that he’s a peasant.”
She blinks and her back straightens. “Renel. He is. And it’s not an offense. His mother was poor. He calls me a spoiled brat. Isn’t it worse?”
“A spoiled brat is about behavior?—”
“So it’s worse.”
“Not necessarily. You can change, you know? If it’s true that Renel and Marlak can be considered peasants, they can’t changeit. And maybe it would not be an offense, but you say it as if it was an offense, so it sounds like you consider them worse than you.”
“Marlak, never.”
“He’s just as much a peasant as his brother, Mirella.”
She sighs. “Renel always hated me. Always.”
“Did you ever like him?”
