He throws his hands in the air. “Why not ask a better question? If we destroy the treaty, what is left to enforce your exile? Evie, if the treaty breaks, you can’t be forced to leave. The Legacy Bond breaks with it.”
My voice comes out barely above a whisper, shoulders trembling as I fight to suppress my fire. “They have my mother, Aspen. Without the Legacy Bond, the promise to keep her alive until her trial will be nullified. The humans will execute her on the spot.”
His expression alternates between stoic and wounded as silence falls between us. Finally, it settles on steely. “If you are so determined to return to your vile human world, we won’t make our stance known until you and your mother are safely on the mainland.”
“Your actions will still condemn all the people of the Fair Isle to war. All the people I’m trying to protect with my exile.”
“Once you leave the isle, it won’t be your problem anymore.” His words hold a bitter edge.
“Itismy problem. This ruins everything. Everything I care about!” Hot tears spring to my eyes, a sob building in my chest.
Aspen’s face falls, eyes turning down at the corners. He lifts a hand as if to bring his fingers to my face but stops himself halfway. He lowers his arm, tensing as he pins it stiff at his side. “Maybe it’s time to reevaluate what you think you care about and make a different choice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say through my tears. “Are you insinuating I don’t care about the right things? Are human lives not worth saving?”
He lets out a low grumble. “Humanlives. Even with proof of your heritage, you still care more about them than the fae.”
My breath hitches when I realize what I said. I didn’t mean to sayhumanlives. I meant to say lives in general, but the word came so naturally. In all honesty, I’ve been growing more and more enamored with the fae, even the unseelie, as of late. I still don’t trust them, especially outside a controlled environment, but I’ve seen for myself how amiable they can be. How wild, beautiful, and unrestrained.
Before I can say any of this, Aspen takes a step away, shoulders rigid. “I must return to the meeting.” His eyes lock on something behind me, narrowing as his lips raise into a snarl. “Perhaps Prince Franco can see you back to your room. He’s quite adept at that.”
He stalks back behind the double doors, leaving me feeling empty in his wake.
21
When I turn around, Prince Franco stands in the middle of the hall. He smirks at the closed doors of the throne room until his eyes meet mine. His expression softens, cheeks flushing to a pale rosy hue.
With hesitant steps, he approaches me, lips flickering between a frown and a wary smile. “I should apologize.”
“It’s not your fault.”It’s everyone’s fault. Everyone’s including mine. Everything is ruined.White hot rage continues to burn after my argument with Aspen. I let it sear away my sorrow and pain, let it char the remnants of my hangover-induced headache to nothing. The result is a sharpening of clarity. Strength.
“I said Ishouldapologize, but that doesn’t mean I’m sorry. Causing you pain was never my intention, but I don’t regret kissing you.”
I’m at a loss for words, surprised by his candor. I, however, don’t have any honest words to meet his. Do I regret kissing him? Do I regret the fun and freedom I had last night? I regret that Aspen is under a false impression about my involvement with the prince, but it’s hard to be sorry when my anger at the king is stronger.
Theunseelieking. The king who is plotting war at this very moment.
“Anyhow, I came to give you this.” Franco holds out an envelope.
My heart leaps into my throat as I take it. The envelope holds no seal, no address, and I tear the letter from inside with trembling fingers.
Franco doesn’t say a word as he leaves me to read the letter alone.
I’m grateful for the privacy because I’m quickly undone by the words I read.
Dear sister, I thank you for your concern. I assure you, I have received word of the allegations against our mother and the summons for my presence at her trial. However, as Faerwyvae is my home, I will not leave it to attend.
The letter ends there, unsigned. However, the script is familiar and written without haste, Amelie’s elegant loops and swirls intact. Could she have written so neatly under duress? Were these words forced from her by Cobalt’s demand through the Bond? Or are they entirely her own?
Anger and sorrow clash as I fall to my knees. My sob is accompanied by a shout as I slam my fist into the opalescent floor. The ground rocks beneath me, and I feel a wave of heat burst from my palm. I’m so startled, my emotions drain in an instant. When I turn my attention to the floor, I find several fissures darting from where my hand made contact. The damage isn’t deep, but it’s obvious. With a gasp, I leap to my feet and run from the scene of my destruction.
* * *
I don’t realizewhere I’m going until I find myself outside Lorelei’s open door. She and Foxglove rush toward me, taking in my blank expression. My tears have already dried with my violent outburst in the hall. I’m not sure what to say, so I hand Foxglove the letter.
He and Lorelei read it in tandem, then their wide eyes meet mine.
“I’m so sorry,” Lorelei whispers. She puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me into her room until we reach her couch. “Here, sit.”
