“Elf, we know how these bodies got here.” The King of Shifters bared his tiger fangs. “How do you suppose the bodies in the inn arrived? Shall we all take random guesses?”
I scowled. “You should have told Queen Mikko.”
“Correctly so,” King Traevon murmured. “Why did you not?”
King Athon ground his teeth together.
We stopped at the top of the stairs.
Father prodded, “I am waiting for your answer.”
The King of Shifters growled, “The raccoon was one of mine. I didn’t want to risk him being injured further. His back leg was still recovering from whatever that shithole did to him.”
I blinked. “The raccoon was a shifter?”
“Yes. Since I’ve released him safely, I’ll inform the Queen of Casters of what I smelled.” He waved a hand in frustration at the stairs. “May we go in now?”
“Queen Mikko needs to clean up this bloody province.” King Traevon tromped down the stairs. “Bella Water is less than impressive.”
“I would agree with you on that, my king.” I inhaled heavily, watching my father’s back—and not moving at all. “Mayhap I can sleep out here?”
Father abruptly stopped and looked back over his shoulder, staring up at me. “In the mist, my daughter? You know better than that. Or should, after all of your studying.”
King Athongrowledsoftly, looking down on the top of my head. “The mist can be spelled, elf.”
“Shifter, I know that. I learned it yesterday.” I crossed my arms and cast glares at the two men. “Do you know how many women are buried down there? From being raped over and over again. Withonemanto blame for all of it. I do not want to go anywhere near that evil creature.”
King Traevon and King Athon shut their mouths.
I spewed, “I would rather be spelled to death than sleep next to his carcass.”
Father cleared his throat. He stated gently, “I will tell Queen Mikko that you and I are sleeping outside. Give me a moment to inform her.”
“Allow me to do it, King Traevon.” The King of Shifters swiftly marched down the stairs. “I need to talk with her, anyway.”
I sniffed. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
King Athon grunted.
Father walked back up the stairs and stood next to me, squinting into the distance, attempting to see through the mist. “Where would you like to sleep?”
My lips pinched into a thin line. I pointed to a statue far in the back. “Next to the woman who is holding the dagger in her hand, and appears as if she’s ready to stab that monster in his back.” It had to be the Queen of Nymphs, the single Fae the original caster had used his royal charmpower on—the woman who had eventually killed him.
King Traevon rubbed his chin. “That sounds fair. Let us go and sleep there then.”
“Are you making fun right now?”
“Not in the slightest, my daughter.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead lightly, whispering against my skin, “Your mother would be proud of you.”
I…may have sniffled.
I cleared my throat and strolled forward through the mist. “I wish to be done with this day, my king.”
“As do I.” King Traevon walked beside me.
We rummaged through our traveling bags when we reached the correct statue, searching for the right provisions for a night under the stars.
I laid down and draped my thick cover over my body, placing a balled-up sweater behind my head, ignoring the chill of the ground beneath me fairly well. While Father did the same, I chomped on dried fruit and dried jerky. I muttered, “The mist reminds me of the Blood Forest.”
