Isanara wove between my legs as we closed the distance between threshold and throne, drawn by a nearly magnetic force. It was so strong, I found myself checking my own body. Was the king compelling me, as he’d done outside of the Memory Gate? But the determined footsteps were my own. I’d chosen to stay.
And though he was intimidating, staring us down from the gilt throne on its elevated dais at the center of the ornate room, I was not afraid of him.
The worst things had already happened to me. My family was dead. So was I. My trust betrayed by the man I’d been foolish enough to care for. I had Isanara at my side, and Kyrelle was far from the Seven Gates and Balar Shan, an inconsequential human.
What else could Maura and the king do to me?
The head witch of the Midnight Coven stood on the second step of the dais, one below what must be the royal family, but above the heads of the sea of fae courtiers. The power in my veins protested at the implication. A witch was below no one; she answered to none but her coven and the Dark God himself.
Who, consequently—conveniently—had made himself scarce.
Good. I needed fewer voices in my head, not more.
Edmund stopped at the edge of the dais, sweeping an elegant bow to his father and the woman seated at his side. There were too many familiar faces here for my comfort. I could not trust a single one of them.
There was the woman whom Garrick had sent away and called ‘Your Majesty,’ the fae queen. She bore no resemblance to either Alize, seated beside her father, with her golden features, nor Edmund, with his darker ones. The hauntingly beautiful fae woman with auburn hair who’d stood over me in the baths was there on the dais as well, her features tight and unmistakably angry. She was either like me and struggled to dissemble—or she did not care that her rage was there for everyone to see. But who was she?
Below Maura were Elodie and Aurienna, all that remained of our fractured coven. A coven was most powerful at its fullfive. Now they were down to three, and still they’d managed to capture me and my familiar.
Maybe this was a mistake. I was not powerful enough.
The skin at the nape of my neck tingled. I stilled the impulse to roll my shoulders. I’d always struggled to control and contain my emotions. But I would not give these monsters any more pieces of me than was absolutely necessary.
The guards who’d escorted us filed in, surrounding the throne in a loose circle as we reached the edge of the dais. A small, dark-haired woman sat on the lowest step, her legs folded neatly beneath her and her eyes averted. A distant relation, maybe, and not my concern. Not with the amount of power and magic centered around that dais.
Isanara’s tail curled around my bare calf.Which one put you in that dungeon?
I was not conscious,she admitted. Her words simmered between us.Fresh rage hardened the block of icy determination in my chest.
“Your prisoners, Majesty,” Edmund said as he straightened.
I knew that every eye was on me and my familiar. I was not so special, I reminded myself. But with Isanara at my side… she was the last dragon in all of Velora, and she’d chosen me.
And I chose well, she smarted in my mind.
Dark God, help me.
One of her spikes dragged across my calf. At an angle, so it did not cut. But an effective reminder of her power, nonetheless.I’ve had enough of him for today.
I bit back a laugh—absurd, given my—our—current situation.
The fae king pushed to his feet. “You bow before royalty, witch.”
Power flooded my veins, just as it had done when Edmund used the word. It shouldn’t bother me so much. Garrick wasnothing to me now, and I certainly did not want to hear my name from the cursed king’s lips.
“Witches bow before no one,” I said, lifting my chin.
Garrick exhaled behind me. He was close enough that I felt the air move, sensed the stiffness of his bow. Maybe that was the Lifebind. The fucking Lifebind that still tethered me to him against my will, even more so than when it first appeared after the Mercy Gate.
I waited for the king to retaliate. But his mouth curved instead, halfway between the smirk I’d adored on Garrick’s face and the rueful grin that was resident on Edmund’s. He threw his attention to Maura.
“She is not as compliant as you described,” he said. He stepped to the edge of the dais but did not descend.
Of the royal children, Alize and Edmund, Garrick resembled the king the most. They had the same pale, silvery hair and bright blue-green eyes. The king wore a thick beard, while Garrick’s face always carried a light scruff. The height, the impossible breadth of their shoulders… how had I ever mistaken Garrick for human? The clearest physical difference was the shape of their ears. The fae king wore no crown. The lack of it emphasized the pointed tips of his ears where they stood out from his close-cropped hair. I did not need to look behind me to remember the smooth curve of Garrick’s. I’d licked them more than once.
“I do not take well to being imprisoned in an abandoned bathhouse,” I said back.
An abandoned bathhouse? They did not even do you the honor of a proper dungeon? Isanara said with adolescent outrage.
