Brock grips Lunarie’s elbow and pulls her away. “Your sister acted against the king and the realm. There will be no mercy, and the king doesn’t have time for this.”
The witch doesn’t protest as Brock shoves Lunarie from the room. I watch her closely, wondering what could’ve possibly passed between her and one of my nobles.
The witch’s gaze follows Lunarie, as if she can see her through the stone wall. “As I was saying, my lord, I couldn’t possibly assist you.”
“What boon do you wish?” I step toward her despite the ache that seems to emanate from my bones. “Ask it, and it’s yours.”
Her gaze whips back to me, malevolence in her glare. “I want nothing from this cursed realm. Never should have come. Should have stayed in winter. Or my cave. Never should have left.” She snaps her teeth. “Should’ve stayed with my bones. Bones don’t talk incessantly about queens and mates and foolishness that doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Your mate has been claimed by another. She is not the changeling you took as your own. Let her go.”
“Never.” I rise to my full height, the blazing crown of day on my head and the strength of my Ancestors replenishing me with each heartbeat. “I willnevergive her up.”
“Fool.” The witch crosses her arms. “Why do I find fools? Always fools. Fools for mates and queens and changelings. Fools in summer, fools in winter, fools in night, and the biggest fool of all in day.” She points at me.
“Watch your tongue, foul creature.” Brock is on the verge of snapping.
That’s what she wants. For one of us to snap. I ponder her shiny black skin and far-too-intelligent eyes. She’s testing us, pushing and prodding. Like her little show with Lunarie—misdirection or some ploy. To what end, I don’t know. But she’s after something. I’ve no illusions about her power. If she hadn’t wanted to come to the Shard of Day, she wouldn’t have. Obsidians are formidable dark witches with a direct line to magic. She could shred this palace if she were so inclined. But she hasn’t. There’s a boon she’s after, but force isn’t going to work with her.
“Let’s begin again.” I lower my chin a hair, just enough to assuage her pride. “You know who I am, but I’ve failed to get your name. My apologies.”
Her eyes light just a hint. “Finally, some manners.” She shoots Brock a sly look as she steps closer to me.
He draws his sword.
“Brock.” I hold out a hand. “Wait.”
He does as I command, though he may crack a tooth with how hard he grits his jaws together.
“You want my name?” She tsks. “There’s power in a name, my lord. So much power.” She clacks those sharp teeth again. “Better to leave it a mystery.”
“I won’t use it against you.” I hold out my hand. “You have my word on the magic.”
She raises a brow at my outstretched hand. “Giving your word to a lowly obsidian?”
“I would do anything to get Emma back.Giveanything.”
“Anything?” she asks with a glint in her eye. “I may have a little something I want.”
“Name it.” No boon is too great a price.
She takes my forearm, the magic binding us. “Sealed. My name is Selene.”
Tritus gasps and drops his book. “By the Spires and all the Ancestors.” His face blanches, and he wraps his arms protectively around the dozing Caltinius.
Selene gives a shark’s grin. “I see my reputation precedes me.”
7
Emma
“The plans have changed. No more small incursions. My troops need fresh blood. Far more than what we’ve been stealing from the Daylanders.”
“My king, I fear that if we begin the invasion too soon, our numbers won’t be able to overtake the—”
“Shh.” Eraldon’s voice slithers around me.
My skin prickles.
“My prize is awake.”
