“You’re too far into this to stop now. If you tell the prince the truth, he will kill you. And then he will take his armies and storm Central Palace, and he will kill your sister and the rest of your family, too.”
Her breath caught.
“You had a plan when you came here. You were socertainof that plan when you came to visit me in the woods. Your hatred for this court and its prince was so deliciously palpable. Deep down, I know that hate still burns. And this is why I’ve told you the truth now, just like you asked me to—because we are allies.”
She shook her head and took a step back.
“You don’t belong here, Sephia.”
“Icould.”
The still-hidden fae laughed louder.
“The Shadow Lord would owe you a tremendous favor if you helped us,” said the one half-illuminated by her torch. “And then, of course, you could come home with us afterward.”
Home.
“You don’t belong here, little Shadow princess. Help us, and then come back with us to Nocturne, where you could flourish. Where people don’t fear you like they do in Middlemage. Where you don’t have to shroud yourself in lies like you do here.”
The offer enveloped her like a tight embrace. She was tempted to sink into it, to close her eyes and let it carry her away. It was magic at work, and she knew it.
But she couldn’t shake it off.
Not until she pictured Tarron’s face. His eyes blinking open with the sunrise, and the slow smile spreading across his face as he saw her….
Her answer came quickly after that.
“No.” She was terrified, but she repeated herself all the same: “No. The Sun Prince is not my enemy.”
“We’ll see, I suppose.” The Shadow fae bared its teeth in a grin. He was staring at something behind her.
She took a deep breath and turned around.
Prince Tarron was standing there, flanked by the two guards she’d tricked into letting her down into this prison.
And all three of them were looking at something in the corner of the room—a shadowy cloud that was swirling, shifting, separating into four stout legs, a muscular body, a massive head with powerful, snapping jaws.
It was far larger than the beast Sephia had controlled earlier. More solid. It felt too powerful to be overlooked, but she still hoped against hope that it might somehow still be invisible to their eyes.
“What isthat?” asked the younger guard.
“Umbra,” said the other, quietly.
Prince Tarron did not speak.
Mad laughter rang out from deep in the cell.
“Better stop it before it attacks him,” whispered the Shadow fae at Sephia’s back.
The beast lunged.
Prince Tarron stumbled back, drawing the sword at his hip—a sword that Sephia doubted would have much effect against the charging beast.
She didn’t think beyond this, she only reacted.
Her magic rushed through her, violent and desperate to call out to the shadow beast, to match that cold energy it was made of. To draw that energy toward her, somehow.
Like calls to like,she thought, desperately.Pay attention to my magic!
