“Not until you’ve honored your vow.” She smirks right back.
“Clever nightling. I don’t think you’ll be half as clever once I have you beneath me.”
“Or I could be twice as clever.” She shrugs, her pale skin shimmering in the bright day. “I suppose you’ll never know until you desire me above all else.”
I’m beside her so quickly she gasps. Inhaling the scent of her throat, I give her fluttering jugular a kiss, letting my fangs gently scrape her skin. “Teasing me is dangerous, nightling.”
Goosebumps rocket across her shoulder, and I stroke down her bare back. When my fingers hit raised skin, I stop and lean to get a better look.
She turns, hiding her back from me. “I need to get dressed.” The higher pitch of her voice is a warning. If I push her now, it would be wrong. I can feel that as certain as the sun overhead.
So, instead, I back away, my fire dimming under the concern in her eyes, the worry that brims from her heart. “Come to the fire when you’re ready.” I turn and stride up the grassy hill but keep her in my peripheral vision.
Maybe not now, but soon I’ll find out why she has lash scars on her back, and when I do? I’ll send whoever marked her so violently to the Spires on wings of fire and fury.
13
Emma
Iknow better than to follow beautiful voices or songs that promise riches or knowledge. I. Know. Better. Eloisa Druzy raised me with an eye toward every bit of danger our beautiful realm had to offer. I can hear her now, “If it looks fancy—like a ruby ring or a golden dagger that sparkles under the moon—you can be sure it’s cursed. Take it and meet your death. If you see a beautiful woman who beckons you closer? She’s likely an evil old hag in disguise. Speak to her and meet your death. Hear a song that makes you feel warm and fuzzy? Follow it to your death.” Mama isn’t a violent woman, but she may well smack me if she ever finds out I followed a song to a hungry monster.
I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. “So stupid, Emma.” I suppose the sunlight is a curse all its own. You can see everything. Nothing can hide from its powerful glow. Even though the danger is right in front of you, you don’t recognize it. It’s too bright, too open, too obvious, but just as dangerous as a ruby ring under the moon or a beautiful woman beckoning you into the dark wood.
We roll along, ever forward, ever in the sun as the days blend together because they never end. At least the moon changes. The sun never does. It’s a relentless orb, though I can admit watching its rays play along my skin and feeling its warmth are particularly delightful.
I glance out the window when I wake from a nap. Voices surround me, and I hear the clip-clop of numerous hooves on cobblestones. Scents of food pull me into the sun as I lean out and gasp. We’re in a town, a real one, not the little villages we passed through on the road. Vendors line the street hawking their wares. Bright scarves, foods I’ve never seen, jewels, clothes, silks, fruits, and oh, bless the Ancestors, cheese! My mouth waters as we continue onward, the townspeople barely glancing our way. They go about their busy lives, and I can’t fathom how they simply walk past the bright colors, the vivid shades of life, the glittering bit of beauty the sun seems to add to everything, even the mundane.
A group of children runs beside the procession, their clothing tattered but their eyes sparkling.
“Are you a pixie?” One little boy calls at me.
“Of course she isn’t a pixie.” A bigger girl slaps the back of his head. “She’s regular-sized.”
The little boy barely notices and holds out a dirty, tan hand. “A coin, miss?”
“I wish I had something.” I look ahead but all I see is soldiers, not Solano. “If I did, I’d give it to you.”
The bigger girl grabs the boy’s hand and pulls him away in a protective motion. “We want nothing from you, nightling.” She spits.
“Nightling?” The boy’s eyes grow wide, and the children stop running.
They draw back onto the sidewalk, their suspicious gazes following me as I shake my head. “I won’t hurt you. I’m just a changeling,” I call, but my voice is crushed under the sound of the carriage wheels and horses’ hooves.
I sit back against the cushions. Why did they fear me? Holding one arm out, I stare at the whiteness of my skin. It’s never seen the sun, not really. It still doesn’t because of Grimelda’s shadow spell. I’ll never be golden like the changelings and fae I see passing by, their lives ruled by light. I’m a creature of the warm, luxurious dark. It’s never occurred to me that my realm could be frightening. Then again, as I look out at the sunny streets, I suppose the people here have never heard the whisper of night, the promise of mischief through the shadowy trees, or the swoop of an owl’s wings. They’re as foreign to me as I am to them. I’ll give them that.
We roll along, the homes growing grander, the street stalls disappearing and storefronts rising along the road that becomes steeper with each step. High fae in finery stroll along the lane, their gazes on the procession. I shrink back further into the shadows, avoiding their prying eyes. The children were afraid of me, which leads me to believe the high fae might revile me. After all, the young ones were taught their distrust.
I lean out again and search for Solano, but I can’t find him. Then a glint catches my eye. I turn and look ahead. An enormous palace rises beyond a high wall. The top of it spirals away, light reflecting off it at all angles. White birds float around its peak, though they’re barely visible from here.
It must be the Shard of Day, the day realm’s fortress. Only the spire is made of crystal. The rest is white stone that looks thick and impenetrable except for the ivy that climbs along some of its rounded sides. The castle is larger than my entire village, and as we pass through the gates, I realize the grounds are filled with flowers and trees that have never existed in the night realm. Blooms too large to be believed pass by, and I reach out and run my fingers along one of them, then draw my hand back and catch its exotic scent. Mama would love this, all of it. The thought sends a pang through me, but I push it down and crane my head back to look at the sparkling spire. I realize now I’d seen it from quite a distance, but I didn’t realize that peculiar sparkle in the sky was the Shard.
Solano rules over all this. I’m nothing more than a harem girl. Under the brightness of the spire, the light of the Shard, I’m a pale shadow. No wonder the children feared me. I’m nothing like the fae who lined the road or even the changelings. They’re tan with golden or chestnut brown hair. Even the changelings have a sunny glow about them, their smiles wider, eyes brighter. I must look so strange to them. And it’s not just the outside that’s different. Inside, I feel it, too. The otherness of being from the night realm. The stories are true—I would wither and die here if it weren’t for Grimelda’s ward against the blazing sun overhead.
We continue past another low wall and under a stone arch. When the carriage stops, I grip the side, my body a little woozy from the nonstop rocking of the cobblestones.
The soldiers clip-clop away, perhaps to their barracks. Peeking out, I don’t see anyone around except the carriage driver.
With a deep breath, I open the door and, with careful steps in my slippery shoes, lower myself to the ground.
