Hello, little dove.
I stiffen. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The breeze picks up, causing the gauzy curtains to billow outward. An elongated shadow pools on the floor, merging with my own. I whirl round, choking on panic, my hands raised defensively. Yet there’s no sign of the Ventalla King.
Is he really here?
I came to wish you luck on such an auspicious day.
The sound is directionless.
‘Where are you?’ I breathe.
A gust of wind ripples through my skirts. I jerk backwards, gasping, trying to focus on the power coursing through my veins. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t attack thin air. I can’t fight a phantom.
Dear Haldyn must have forgotten to invite me. Perhaps his mind is beginning to decline just like his body. It can only be a matter of time before the sun ceases to shine.
Fury undercuts fear. I grit my teeth. ‘Show yourself.’
I feel a tap on my shoulder and recoil, stumbling backwards into the dressing table – but once again, King Balen is nowhere to be seen.
Whispers flit around my head, darting from ear to ear.
I know what you are. I knowwhoyou are, too. You’ve tried to hide it, even from yourself. But I have seen it in you – that appetite for vengeance. The quiet pleasure you take in hurting those who have hurt you. In making them pay.
The words chill me to the bone. ‘You’re wrong.’
I meant what I said, little dove. You and I – together we could conquer all.
My voice is a sharp scratch. ‘What do you want from me?’
I want your power. I want your loyalty.
I swallow hard. ‘Never.’
King Balen laughs, soft and silken.We shall see.
And this time, when I turn round, it’s to find a pair of raven-black eyes boring into mine. I try to speak, to scream, but the sound is ripped from my mouth. I reach inward, fumbling desperately for my anchors, preparing to unleash my ice.
‘You know, I believe anyone is capable of changing their mind,’ King Balen murmurs, his cool fingers gently grazing the Eye round my neck. ‘All it takes is the right … motivation.’
Suddenly there’s a loud knock on the door to my chambers.
The Ventalla King smiles. Less than a heartbeat later, he is gone.
I sag against the wall, my breathing jagged. King Balen – he washere, in the palace, in myroom. Bile crawls up my throat.
His words linger on the air.
I have seen it in you – that appetite for vengeance.
‘Blaze! Open up!’
Ten seconds – that’s all I have to compose myself before crossing the reception room and wrenching open the door.
‘What time d’you call this?’ Flint asks in mock-disapproval. ‘Everyone’s waiting.’
‘I know,’ I say, voice trembling. ‘I – I’m sorry.’
