I was a rabbit. I had tobea rabbit. Anything else would get me killed.
Meanwhile, I held her gaze. If the spiritstag had told her what I’d done, it was over. But if this was a guess—if she was only fishing?—
“How else,” she mused, her fingers still laced beneath her chin, “could the others have escaped the maze so quickly? Mere days after you and Dorian.”
“Perhaps they heard the commotion when we fled,” I said, “and followed the sound.”
Her index fingers tapped together. A slow, thoughtful rhythm. “Perhaps.”
“Your court is strong, Your Grace?—”
“Oh, don’t pander.” Her voice lowered. “You hateus.”
I shook my head quickly. “No.”
“We are the monsters you shrinking, acid-drenched humans spend your lives fearing in the dark. And for good reason. We shattered your wall. We killed your loved ones. We stole you to this lush land where we eat cheeses and grapes and live forever while you wither in the muck.”
Her hands fell to the scepter. “Tell me, rabbit, that you wouldn’tbash my skull in with this piece of wood if you could.” Her fingers tightened over the scepter’s sharpened end like she was daring me to reach for it.
I would. Some part of me did want to strike. But it wasn’t only hatred pulling at my hand.
It was envy.
Envy, as sharp and cruel as any thorn.
And that was what Rhiannon feared most. What Dorian had warned me of.
The moment I acknowledged it, I dropped to my knees, head bowed low. I couldn’t let her see it in my face. My hands came together in supplication. “I would not dare, Your Grace. Please, you must believe me.”
Dorian considered me a shit liar. But he’d also spent a lot more time with me than Rhiannon.
There was a sound—sharp, like the sudden snap of a branch. From somewhere a breeze blew, and my hair lifted around my face. I felt it across my skin, raising goosebumps.Magic.
When I lifted my eyes slightly through my lashes, I saw that Rhiannon had shifted forward, the sharpened end of her scepter digging into the dais beside her foot.
“It’s not ‘Your Grace.’” Her voice cut through the empty hall like a blade. “I’mthe queen. I don’t rule by grace.”
That only increased my envy. And, a little bit, my pity.
Sister-killer. Night-bitch.
How alone she must feel.
A long silence fell. Her eyes traced my head, my shoulders, my hands, weighing every inch of me. And I studied her back, the queen of this court who controlled the air around us.
I wondered how deep the well of her magic went. At least she couldn’t force me to confess to her like she could her subjects.
The scepter tapped the stone floor once, hard. She sat back, arms now resting on the throne.
“Go,” Rhiannon said at last, her voice softer, weary. “Prepare yourself. In a few hours, I will call upon all of you who remain.”
The second trial. She’d just revealed it would begin tonight.
I rose and turned to go.
“Eurydice.”
I froze.
