My head swivels toward her. “What are you implying?”
“I’m implying that I understand the precarious position you are in. You’re considered a criminal by the humans and would be used as a bargaining chip by many of the fae, if given the chance. Unless you can secure your position in Faerwyvae, you’ll be exiled to a slow death on the mainland.”
I stop in my tracks. “I’m not staying in Faerwyvae. That would be treason. It would break the treaty.”
Nyxia halts, then slowly spins on her heel to meet my gaze with a delighted grin. “Then let’s break it.”
“That will bring war.”
She shrugs a delicate shoulder. “I guess we should try to win it then.”
I shake my head and continue walking, quickening my steps as if I can outpace her treasonous suggestion. “That’s not why I came here. I came to seek refuge while I await my mother’s trial.”
She matches my hurried stride with little effort. “Yes, but there’s another option open to you. If you were my brother’s mate, you’d be Lunar royalty. You’d have a shot at earning enough respect to take the throne that is rightfully yours.”
I round on her. “The Fire Court isn’t rightfully mine. My ancestor was exiled. The treaty states his descendants cannot live in Faerwyvae ever again.”
This time, she’s the one who walks ahead, and I’m forced to race after her. “The treaty was made with human rules. King Ustrin likely never would have become king according to the Old Ways. As cousin to the exiled King Caleos, Ustrin claimed the throne based on human traditions of male bloodline succession, but he never proved himself the alpha blessed by the All of All.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, so she must be referring to some unseelie custom. “It doesn’t matter what King Ustrin did or didn’t do. A fae Legacy Bond keeps the treaty in place and forbids me from claiming the throne. A man named Henry Duveau will put a bounty on my head if I try to stay in Faerwyvae.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t you understand? If the treaty is broken, so is the Legacy Bond. Besides, if this human wants to place a bounty on you, I’d like to see what great fool would try to claim it. A human bounty hunter will get himself killed before he so much as crosses the axis line. And no fae would turn on you if you were a respected leader.”
“Oh, you mean like when Cobalt stole King Aspen’s throne?”
She shrugs. “King Aspen was challenged and came out the victor. With your help, of course. Your success in the Twelfth Court is exactly what makes me think you have what it takes to claim the Fire Court throne according to the Old Ways.”
Her words send my heart racing, both from the fear and excitement they generate within me. There’s a part of me that rises to meet her words with a spark of hope, igniting a fire of indignation against those who would stand against me. I hate it. I hate the part of me that wants her to say more.
She continues. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t like King Ustrin or any of the radical seelie. I don’t like the Council of Eleven Courts or how much they seek control over the unseelie. The very name of the council is blasphemy against the Old Ways. You cannot be fae and disregard the Twelfth Court. I’ll support any effort that puts an unseelie queen on the Fire Court throne.”
My mouth falls open. “Unseelie,” I say with a gasp. “What makes you think I’d beunseelie?”
She seems unperturbed by the bite in my tone. “You’d have to be unseelie to go against the treaty. I suppose you could call yourself seelie, but it comes down to this: you don’t want to be controlled. You don’t want your true nature suppressed or for your freedoms to be taken away. That’s what being unseelie means.”
Again, that secret part of me stirs and rises. It wants to shout in agreement, to wail a battle cry and fight for what is mine.No. Not mine. Nothing in Faerwyvae is mine.“You know nothing about what I want,” I say through my teeth.
Her voice takes on a soothing, ethereal quality. “I know your dreams. Your fears. I can see them even when you’re awake. They float around you like specters.”
I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “This conversation is pointless. I will not break the treaty nor will I stay in Faerwyvae. I’m going to my mother’s trial, and there I will face my fate.”
“You will choose death.”
“I will choose my mother. I will not abandon her. If I do, she will be executed.”
“But you would live. I’m sure she’d want that, wouldn’t she?”
I open my mouth to argue but snap it shut. There’s no way I’ll admit Nyxia is right, but I can’t deny the truth in her words either. Finally, I say, “Just because I’m here, and just because I’m part-fae, doesn’t mean I’ve turned my back on the humans.”
We’ve reached the other end of the loop where the staircase opens beneath the balcony. Nyxia faces me, looking down her nose. “When you’re ready to take a side, let me know. A crown awaits.”
“I don’t want a crown forged from blood.”
“All crowns are forged from blood.”
“Then I never want one.”
She lets out a trilling laugh. “What about the one the All of All gave you?”
