His eyes widen, and it feels like an eternity that we stand locked beneath each other’s gaze. Then he blinks. It’s clear when he discovers what I’ve done, when the power of his name being used against him dawns on his realization. His face flashes with hurt, something close to fear dancing in his eyes. The expression remains for only a moment before he steels it behind a mask of indignation. “Is this what your vow is worth?” he says through his teeth. “When you promised you wouldn’t use my name against me?”
“I had to,” I say, trying to hide the tremors that seize me beneath his angry stare. My breath feels like it’s been pulled from my lungs.I’m doing this for both of us. Please understand.
“Then you leave me no choice,” he says with a snarl. He returns to the parchment and scrawls my name on it. He presses so hard, he pierces the paper in places. Then, below it, he signs his name. He doesn’t meet my eyes when he gives the parchment to Nyxia, who folds it with her slender fingers.
With slow, elegant steps, she makes her way to the middle of the balcony and faces the council. She unfolds one sheet of parchment, then the other, reading each before holding them out for the council to see. “King Aspen has named Evelyn Fairfield his champion. Cobalt, on the other hand, will represent himself and has chosen a decision of fate.”
I blink a few times, staring dumbfounded at the vampire. “A decision of fate? Not a presentation of factual debate?”
“You heard her correctly,” Cobalt says, chin raised. “It’s set in ink; you can see for yourself.”
I round on Foxglove. “What in the name of iron is a decision of fate?”
He returns to wringing his hands, face pale. “I never thought he would choose it.”
“What. Is. It?”
Foxglove’s expression turns apologetic. “It’s a matter of magic.”
“Come, Evelyn,” Cobalt says. “It’s time to journey to the Twelfth Court.”
Chapter Forty
“Twelfth Court,” I echo, but no one seems to hear me. Cobalt makes his way to Aspen’s throne, ignoring the shattered arm as he settles in. The council fae exchange excited whispers.
I turn to Aspen, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Aspen, I—”
“Time to fight for my throne,” he growls.
My throat feels tight at the ice in his tone. I turn to Foxglove. “What’s happening? What is the Twelfth Court?”
“I told you,” he says. “It’s a matter of magic. The Twelfth Court isn’t a true court, but a realm of magic that connects all courts. Going there is a rare thing, a sacred and dangerous excursion. Cobalt must trust his personal cause greatly to resort to such radical action.”
“Don’t worry,” Lorelei says. “There’s a chance you can win.” However, the doubt on her face betrays her words.
“How?” I look from her to Foxglove. “I don’t even believe in magic.”
The two fae exchange an amused glance as if I’ve said something foolish. “You don’t have to believe in a thing for it to be real,” Foxglove says. “It can exist with or without your blessing, you know.”
“Perhaps, but how am I supposed to win a battle using something I don’t believe in?”
Lorelei shrugs. “How do you breathe every day? How do you sleep when you’re tired? How do you perform surgery with your hands?”
I want to argue with her, to tell her the first two are controlled by the autonomic nervous system, and the latter is only done after years of training. But I hold my tongue, remembering the way time slowed down when I tended Aspen’s wound. The way my hands knew what to do, what to feel for. There was something chilling and instinctual about it. Something I still don’t understand.
“We’re waiting,” Cobalt calls.
I blanch, finding all eyes on me.
Foxglove gives me a gentle push toward the thrones. “Go. You can do this.”
If only I knew whatthiswas. With trembling steps, I make my way to the empty throne and lower myself into my seat. Foxglove and Lorelei stand next to me, a comforting presence at my side.
I take in the stares of my audience, unnerved beneath their scrutiny. Nyxia watches me with a curious expression, hands steepled at her waist. Behind her, the blue fae with the flowing hair lets out a windy hiss, while the white wolf pants, tongue lolling from between his teeth. The fae with horns and hooves scowls, and the orange fae with scales flicks his tongue at me several times. Melusine, on the other hand, refuses to look my way at all.
I shift my gaze to Cobalt’s side of the balcony, where Amelie stands at the rail, looking as serene as ever. Even when she meets my eyes, her features remain unchanged. My gaze then roves to Aspen, still surrounded by Cobalt’s guards. His eyes lock on mine. I try not to read too much into his expression, not sure I’ll like what I find.
Silence falls over the balcony. I lean toward Foxglove. “What happens now?”
