The wolf fae—King Flauvis, that is—lets out a deep growl. King Aelfon, the stout fae with curling horns and deep, brown skin, pounds his hooves into the grass beneath him. The ethereal Queen Minuette lets out a windy hiss with her blue lips.
“You don’t have that kind of power,” Nyxia says, unperturbed by the threat. “We have deemed the council disbanded. Nothing you say has any weight over our actions, decisions, or rights to rule.”
King Ustrin narrows his beady eyes. “We’ll see what tune you’re singing once you’re outnumbered on a battlefield. You see, the council is electing seelie rulers in each court.” His eyes flash toward King Aelfon. “Anewseelie ruler, in some cases.”
A snarl rips from the Earthen King’s lips. I’m surprised he can manage not to launch for the Fire King’s throat. With only two guards, King Ustrin could easily be overpowered.
“Go ahead and play at being in power while you still can,” Nyxia says. “You won’t be much longer.”
I feel a chill at her words, sensing the double meaning. Not only does she mean the council, but him personally. King Ustrin seems to sense it too, the smile slipping from his face. “Now onto my next order of business. I’d like to offer one of your subjects an alliance with the council. Prince Franco, the council offers you the position of Seelie King of Lunar.”
Nyxia visibly tenses, shadows curling from her fingertips. “Excuse me?”
Franco’s eyes bulge, but he says nothing.
“Now, now,” Ustrin says, “there’s no need to get your shadows involved, Nyxia. This is a peaceful exchange of words, remember? If Prince Franco would like to accept the offer, he should be free to do so. Or is all that talk about freedom of choice simply...talk?”
Nyxia snarls, but it’s cut off as Prince Franco takes a step forward, then another. She watches in horror as her brother closes the distance between himself and King Ustrin.
The Fire King greets the prince with a triumphant grin.
“That slimy, son-of-a-harpy,” I say under my breath. Rage burns inside me, turning every fond memory of the Lunar Prince to ash.
Ustrin extends a hand, which Franco accepts. In a blink of an eye, the prince pulls Ustrin toward him, and his free hand collides with the Fire King’s flat nose. “That’s what I think of your offer,” he says, arms wide as he sweeps into a mocking bow.
All right. I take it all back. Prince Franco is—
One of the guards, the one who was trembling earlier, unsheathes his sword and buries it in Franco’s stomach. I let out a shout echoed by Nyxia as the prince falls to his knees. Nyxia’s shadows unfurl and her soldiers begin to surge forward. The guard convulses before releasing the hilt and falling to the ground motionless. The second guard takes his place, gritting his teeth as his fingers stop inches from the hilt.
“It’s iron.” King Ustrin’s voice halts the oncoming melee. “One more step and I’ll have the prince beheaded with it.”
Nyxia’s shadows disappear, and she motions for her soldiers to take a step back.
“Think about the rules, Nyxia,” Ustrin says. “In a peaceful exchange of words, violence is forbidden. It can only be met blow for blow. As of now, equal blows have been exchanged and it can stop here. But if you attack me, it will be my right to end his life.”
“Let him go,” Nyxia says through her teeth.
Franco moans in pain, head lolling to the side.
“I’ll let the prince go if you let me speak with Evelyn Fairfield.”
A hush falls over the crowd, punctuated only by Franco’s whimpers.
“Oh, let’s not play dumb,” Ustrin says. “I know she’s here. As my final order of business, I ask only that I speak with her. The rules made by the peaceful exchange of words will be extended to her, and she will not be harmed tonight. I give my promise.”
Aspen burns Nyxia with a glare, but Nyxia keeps her lips pursed tight.
I look from King Ustrin to Prince Franco. “Release the glamour,” I whisper to Lorelei.
“No,” she argues. “He may have promised not to harm you today, but once he knows you’re here, there’s no stopping him from returning tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you a count of five,” King Ustrin shouts. “If you don’t reveal Miss Fairfield in that time, I’ll be the next to deliver a blow, and it will cost your prince his life.” His guard’s fingers flinch toward the sword. “Five.”
“Release the glamour,” I hiss at Lorelei.
“Four.”
“I’m not letting Franco die.”
