None of the princesses of the Light Courts, for they're too well known. But there are the names of more obscure titles here. Lady of the Golden Dawn. Duchess of Goldenrod. Lady of Greenslieves.
Nobody would miss any of them.
And there's a fair chance no one has seen any of them.
The courts keep to themselves, after all. The Alliance still stands, but that doesn't mean the Light Courts don't hold a dagger to each other's throats, even as they're promising smiles.
"It's still incredibly risky," I breathe, though my mind is whirring with thoughts and plans.
The Wraith King holds up one of the glittering Soul-Trap's he wears around his neck. Inside it glows that silvery pale spark, an amorphous wisp of shape trapped inside its crystal prison.
Stolen from me the day I was cut from my fae mother's womb.
"Bring me back the Dragon's Heart," he purrs, leaning forward on his throne. "And I will grant you the rest of your soul."
Freedom.
He'll never be able to wield it against me, never hold it over my head again. I sense Soraya's head turn sharply to track me. She too, is bound by such a trap. She too, hungers.
Now I know why she wanted the job.
"Done." The word is on my lips before I can even think it through.
Soraya shoves to her feet. "A dangerous task to risk on someone so unworthy. Perhaps you think her the best for the challenge, but to send Zemira alone could be dangerous. Let me go too—as her maid perhaps. They'll expect at least one attendant."
And she'll be there to steal the job the second she gets a chance.
"Your skills at dissembling are meager at best," I shoot back. "You'll give me away before I even take two steps?—"
"So we're to pin all our hopes on you?" she sneers.
"Tell me again: How is the Lord of Mistmark? Still alive? Still breathing? Why is that?"
Soraya takes a step toward me, fists clenched, but I face her just as determinedly. All the bloodied years between us rise like vengeful ghosts. Sisters are both your greatest strength and greatest weakness. Only she can get close enough to deliver a merciless strike, because some part of me will always let her, every time. She's broken my heart a dozen times, and I, no doubt, the same.
But this time, I can see the blood drawn is hers.
And that make me wonder, just a little, about the Lord of Mistmark.
Who should be dead.
Because my sister speaks the truth.
She is the best. She does not fail.
Raesh examines us both, a small smile crossing his mouth. "An excellent proposition, Soraya. You will attend your sister, though you will not hamper her." He tilts his head to me. "This is why you were born," the king replies. "Don't fail me."
I wouldn't dare.
Because Keir is not the only dangerous trap I have to avoid.
Now I have Soraya to contend with too.
Chapter
Two
"You said it wouldn't kill her," I hiss, as the sound of someone dying groans down the stairs of the inn in Hawkesbury Shrewd.
