I sink to my knees with a wail, and suddenly all I can think about is Mother. Mother at the trial. Mother in chains. Mother in a tub of freezing water. Mother shouting to defend my honor. Mother fighting the guards. Mother with a bullet between her eyes.
And between all that lies every cruel thing I’ve ever said to her. Every right thing I’ve ever dismissed. Every eyeroll. Every instance where I denied her magic and spouted off about how superior Mr. Meeks was.
Burning down the Briar House was supposed to make me feel better. It was supposed to alleviate this pain that continues to plague me. I thought I’d faced the full depth of my grief when I cried in Aspen’s arms the night I defeated Ustrin. I thought I’d at least begun to recover from my mother’s loss.
But I haven’t.
My cheeks grow hot, breaths too shallow. My lungs feel like they’re shrinking into nothing. All around me spin images I cannot bear to face. For if I do, I’ll be buried beneath them forever. Instead, I seek my fire, let it burn my pain, my regrets. I let it build within me, let it light my way from the bottomless sorrow I’ve fallen into.
With a deep breath, I turn it into rage. Then I take it to the Twelfth Court.
4
The fox’s feet are almost silent.
She stalks over the forest floor, padding over grass and brambles on quiet paws, ears attuned to the sounds around her. Right now, all her senses are focused on what awaits on the other side of the brambles.
The fox crawls closer, peering through a gap in the tangled thorns to her unwitting prey.
A blackbird,some strange part of her notes.
Meal, says another part.
The plump bird pecks the damp earth, seeking its own sustenance. The fox watches as it moves closer and closer to her hiding place, salivating in anticipation of the kill. She hasn’t eaten anything but berries since she can remember; it’s as if she woke up this morning with the sudden realization there were other things in the forest to eat. Why hasn’t she noticed before?
The fox’s prey inches closer.
Her body quivers as she prepares to pounce.
“A bird, Evelyn?” The voice startles both the fox and her prey, resulting in a flutter of wings as several blackbirds take off into the sky, chirping with alarm. “I resent that, you know.”
Familiar,the fox assesses about the voice. She whirls toward the source and finds a slim male on two legs leaning against a tree. He watches her without fear.
He’s too large to be prey, but his presence is a threat, considering how easily he drove away her meal. Her fur bristles along her back, and she emits a warning growl.
To the fox’s surprise, the male doesn’t seem even remotely alarmed. Instead of backing away, he crouches down before her. “Aspen sent me to find you.”
Something about the name makes her mind go still.Aspen. Aspen. Aspen.What does it mean?
“He’s worried about you.”
The fox is still trying to place the name, while another part of her argues that names don’t matter to her. In fact, she should bite his hand. His pale fingertips are only several inches away—
“Hey, Evelyn.”
The fox’s eyes dart toward the male’s face just as he pulls his lips from his pointed teeth. His face contorts with a terrifying snarl, eyes going black, skin nearly translucent as purple veins bulge beneath the surface. The monster lets out a shrieking hiss.
The fox’s shock is so strong, she’s left blinking several minutes. No,I’mleft blinking.I’mthe fox. Wait, not a fox. A…person. Oh, for the love of iron, what just happened?
I’m sprawled on my back, suddenly aware of rocks and twigs digging into my palms. I glare up at Prince Franco—the familiar Prince Franco, not the nightmarish glamour he donned to frighten me—smiling over me with his hand extended.
“I thought that might do the trick,” he says.
At a loss for words, all I can do is take his hand and allow him to pull me to my feet. Vertigo seizes me as I adjust to the feeling of standing on two legs. As my vision returns to normal, I glance around. I’m in the forest. Based on the muted quality of light, I’m in Lunar. Have I been here since I crossed the faewall? Finally, I manage to shape my burning questions into words. “How long have I been away from Selene Palace?”
Franco shrugs. “Five days, I think.”
My eyes bulge. “Five?” It shouldn’t be possible. I was only in Grenneith for a single day, then another day or two of travel back to the faewall. After that—
