Mariel felt partially responsible. Indeed, she had begged Reyna not to tell Prince Thane.
She stared after the retreating warriors, torn. Her vengeance drove her toward the castle, but her heart strived to go help Reyna escape the clutches of the wood fae.
But there was little she could do. The air fae warriors would reach the hills far before she could. The battle would begin. The first of many more to come. She sighed and closed her eyes. In an attempt to prevent another battle, she had somehow only caused it to happen.
For a moment, she wondered if she was going about this all wrong. Would killing the former king help the low fae of Tairngire? Or would it only make the situation even worse? All she wanted was to protect her people. Years ago, that ability had been taken away from her. She’d been cast out, replaced by a vicious king who murdered his subjects.
Tairngire would never be safe as long as he was alive.
Nodding to herself, she set off toward the castle, renewed determination churning through her veins. She would figure out what to do about the wood fae later. For now, she had a king to kill.
She pushed into the hidden entrance and crept through the tunnels, breathing in the musty scent of dust that swirled through the darkness. When she reached the end and pushed on the wall, someone was waiting for her on the other side.
It was the spymaster.
“Ah.” He gave her a kind smile that was just as much a lie as his words. “Just who I was waiting for.”
Mariel reached for her daggers, but the spymaster held up a hand as a dozen warriors whispered out of the darkened corridor behind him. Half of them held glinting steel swords while the other half held nocked arrows. She froze, fingers halfway to her own weapons.
“What is this about?” Mariel whispered.
“The High Queen wishes to speak with you.”
She tried to rein in her surprise. That was the last thing Mariel had expected the spymaster to say. What in the name of the Dagda would the High Queen want from Mariel? Did she know the truth about who she was? Or worse, did she know that she had come here to kill her husband?
Mariel itched to turn tail and run, but she had been well and truly surrounded. She wasn’t certain she had much of a choice.
* * *
The High Queen lounged on her throne, a large goblet of wine sloshing in her hand. Mariel eyed it with a frown. The High Queen’s sobriety was well-known and celebrated throughout the realm. A demonstration of her dedication to the Dagda and her faith. And it was not just that. Her eyes were lined in purple. Her deep crimson gown was disheveled, and her blue hair poked out from the side of a messy bun. Her golden circlet was even askew.
No one else was in the Great Hall. Even the tables had been carried out. It was eerie and so unlike the joyous, buzz-filled room that Mariel had once known.
“Thank you, Kelwyn,” the High Queen said to the spymaster. “You and your warriors may go.”
“But, Your Majesty. Your safety is our utmost—”
“I said you may go,” the queen said icily.
With a frown, the spymaster motioned the warriors out of the Great Hall. The door shut heavily behind them, entombing Mariel with the queen. She kept her mouth shut tight, waiting for whatever had brought her here. This wasentirelyodd. She thought she ought to be afraid, but...she was merely curious.
“You may think I do not know what happens in my court,” the High Queen finally said.
“I think nothing of the sort.” Mariel’s voice echoed against the looming stone ceiling, a sound that might be intimidating to some but was music to her own ears. It had been a long time since she had heard that echo.
“So, I am to believe that you thought your conversation with Reyna Darragh had gone unnoticed?”
Which conversation?
“What ever do you mean?”
Imogen arched her brow. “You have been sneaking around, asking questions of the servants. Did you think you would not be seen?”
“I merely wanted to assist the princess in finding whoever was responsible for the attempted murder against her,” Mariel said quietly.
“And did you?”
Mariel thought for a moment but saw no reason to play games. “The wood fae.”
