“I beg to differ. Who you date reflects on the crown.”
I slanted him a look. “Spare me the unsolicited advice.”
“If your father asks, I won’t lie.”
I rolled my eyes. “Knowing you, Iba wouldn’t even have to ask; you’ll volunteer the information.”
“If I suspect your tryst endangers the crown, then I’ll share my concerns.”
If the elevated Old York sidewalks weren’t crawling with people, I would’ve run back to the portal to avoid enduring a single more minute in Remo’s presence. “Enjoy your days of power, Farrow. Once I’m crowned, you’ll be lucky if you get a job taxiing aruna.”
Remo smirked, obviously not taking my threat seriously. Why would he? He didn’t takemeseriously. “How did you even get into York House, Trifecta?”
If he was trying to get a confession out of me, a confession that could lead to a hefty fine and an argument with my parents, he could hold his breath. I masked my annoyance under a plasticky smile. “I promised the owner I’d hang out with him after my date with Josh.”
Remo’s nostrils flared. I could tell he was thinking vile thoughts about me, probably lining up some new rumors about the princess’ loose morals and limbs. There was nothing the petty tyrant enjoyed more than smearing my good name.
I used to care but didn’t anymore. Or at least, I cared less. “And my name isAmara. Use it.”
He smirked. “You’ll always be Trifecta to me.”
“Technically, Trifecta’s wrong since I’m also part human.”
“I’m aware, but Quadfecta doesn’t roll off the tongue as nicely.”
I stopped walking so suddenly that Remo ended up a couple feet ahead of me. Keeping my voice low so that the threelucionagatrailing us couldn’t hear, I said, “I wish Nima hadn’t stopped at your grandmother; I wish she’d eliminated every last one of you.”
Remo’s lips thinned, and a vein pulsed at his temple, underneath his raspberry-shaped birthmark.
I almost felt guilty, but the Farrows—Gregor, Faith, Remo, and even his little brother Karsyn—were all hateful and manipulative. The sort of family who felt like they were owed the crown, and whom I suspected one day would try to steal it. Not that I’d let them.
I conjured up my dust, cloaked myself in it to make humans believe they were looking at a flock of pigeons, then pushed off the sidewalk and flew over the passing magnetic train. When I reached the traffic light, I pressed my palm against the green bulb. The stamp on my wrist—a rosette—flared, and then my body was sucked through and spit back into Neverra.
2
The Political Match
Iemerged from the dark, gelatinous tunnel into the Gorge of Portals located in the heart of Neverra, between the forest ofcalimbors,trees so thick and tall their crowns seemed to kiss the purple sky, and the Pink Sea that resembled a plum-tinted mirror at night and glistened rose-gold in the light of day.
When red hair began rising from the slender disk under my boots, I dove off and bobbed in the air, waiting for Remo to tell me where the meeting was taking place. Was my father in thecalimborthat housed the Duciba, or in the hovering palace he’d built over the Pink Sea fromvolitorfronds and stone quarried from the Five, the gray cliffs that cinched the Valley of Hunters?
After theCaligo Dias—the Day of Mist—Negongwa’s tribe had finally been invited to settle in Neverra. The Hunters, along with their bodiless Unseelie brethren (most of them had claimed human forms since, but the older ones had chosen to remain specters, unwilling to constrain their spirits to flightless, aging bodies), had chosen to live in the valley.
Giya and her twin brother Sook lived there with their parents, in a palatial stone wigwam. I stayed over whenever I could, not so much because I didn’t like my cottage on the sea, but because my cousins were my best friends.
Myonlyfriends.
Remo hopped off the portal, hislucionagauniform, a black bodysuit made from a coated, laser-proof weave, contorting around his solid frame.
“Where is my father?”
“In the Duciba.” Remo’s tone was as frigid as his expression.
As the threelucionagapopped out of the portal in their golden firefly forms, I flew toward the base of the great tree that had once lodged Neenee Lily’s favorite candy shop. Iba had requisitioned the first five floors of thecalimborafter the Woods’ palace had slipped off the mist and shattered into large chunks of pink quartz and clumps of moss-flecked stone.
The remnants of my grandfather Linus’s legacy had been transplanted to the middle of the forest ofcalimborsand had become a playground for young fae. As a child, I’d spent afternoons hopping from one eroded chunk of quartz to the next with Giya and Sook. We’d pretended pricklymikosand poisonouscaprasslithered in the mossy space between.
Before the Year of Flight, the year Seelies learned to harness their fire, our game had been particularly fun because I could still fall. Unfortunately, my Year of Flight had come early. Right after I’d turned four, I’d slipped but failed to tumble, levitating instead. My cousins had gaped, then told me I wasn’t allowed to play with them anymore. That night, Nima and Iba called the family together and sat us all down. Our four parents reminded us that we all had different powers, but that deep down, we were all the same—all of us faeries.
