“You cannot hold three courts of power, no.” Her voice shifts. Steadier. More certain. “That was never the goal.”
“And I failed the last trial,” I remind her, frustration bleeding through. “The Trial of Truth. I didn’t call the Treasures.”
“You didn’t fail.” She winks. “The other queens didn’t call them either.”
“What?”
“The point was never about calling the Treasures. It’s an impossible task. It’s about what you know. What you choose to protect.”
My face falls.
I knew Kieran had the Spear. I couldn’t bring myself to expose him.
“Oh,” I breathe.
The power of the crown read my intention. Not my action. Not my inaction.
My choice.
“Amarantha was the only one to attempt calling them.” Kestra’s voice is quiet now. Weighted. “And she had the Stone. She failed the rest.”
“This would have been great to know beforehand.”
“It’s your mother’s job to tell you. Fae are matriarchy. Our knowledge passes from mother to daughter. Even my father doesn’t hold the full power of the Unseelie Court.”
“Wait.” I set my cup down again after just grabbing it. “So if you’re lucky enough to gain the crown at the death of the previous queen, they actually groom you? Prepare you?”
“Exactly.” Her smirk has an edge now. “Amarantha doesn’t hold the knowledge of the previous queen. Because Amarantha wasn’t the one Tatiana was grooming.”
“The Morrigan was supposed to tell me everything, wasn’t she?”
Kestra shakes her head. “She wouldn’t know. She’s a goddess, ancient, powerful, but not a court queen. Different knowledge. Different lineage.”
“But you know.”
“I know everything, Ashlynne.” Kestra sighs. “Now, are you ready to finally listen?”
I stare at her.
Really stare. For the first time since I met her.
The nervous handmaid. The Disney princess energy. The way she made herself small and sweet and easy to overlook.
It was all a mask. And I never once looked beneath it.
“Harsh,” I manage.
“I won’t be easy, and I won’t be kind.” Her voice hardens, and there it is. The steel beneath the silk. The queen she’s been hiding this whole time. “And we will need Finnian’s knowledge to end this.”
“And what are we ending, Kestra?”
“You know exactly what we’re ending.” She leans forward, and for the first time, I see her clearly.
Not the gentle handmaid. Not the worried sister. Not the unassuming princess.
A player. A strategist. Someone who’s been moving pieces on this board while everyone underestimated her.
“Now,” she says, “are you ready for a secret?”
