Ishanna help me, thatvoice. It slides icy fingers down my spine and wrenches my attention up to where the fae king peers at me through the gap Carina left behind. On the dais, Amriel sprawls across my father’s throne like someone poured him atop it, his long legs spread, dark jewels glinting from his dangling fingers. And…goddess, he somehow looks like he belongs there. Like he owns that chair, this room, this entire castle. He looks like he owns all of Aethrolia.
A cold smirk dances across his mouth. He lifts a finger and crooks it at me, and before I know what I’m doing—before I can process the fact that he just summoned me like he would a servant—my feet obey. They carry me toward him while the rest of the room fades away.
Amriel eases upright, leaning into my approach, draping his elbows across his splayed knees. A strange crackle leaches into my bloodstream, a…compulsion, almost, like he’s tied a rope around my middle and is hauling me toward him, hand over hand. Questions rustle in my mind—is this the magic the fae are rumored to possess? Because somehow, there’s only us here, adrift in this sea of torchlight. There’s me, and there’s this immortal—the cruel planes of his face, the stark blaze of his eyes, the way his smile silences my ability to draw air.
I draw abreast of my sisters and stop. Their arms brush mine, warm and solid, but the contact somehow feels insubstantial. I’ve never felt as frail, as mortal and defenseless, as I do right now.
“Thank you for coming,” Amriel says with a sneer.
A shudder passes through me. I hate that this fae bastard can crush the breath from my body with nothing more than a handful of words.
Something squeezes my fingers, and I glance down to find Evelyn’s grip tangled with mine. “Don’t worry,” she whispers. “It’ll all be over soon.”
I squeeze back, but the surety that bolstered me earlier has slipped from my grasp and gotten lost in the shadows. Even my pendant feels strangely inert, a dead weight around my neck, as if Ishanna can’t reach me here.
Goddess, I should’ve listened to Brynne. I should’ve cut my hair.
Amriel unfolds from my father’s throne, slow and deliberate. He’s even taller than I realized, and when I glance past him, I find the Shadow backing him on the dais. The two stand shoulder to shoulder, their heights a perfect match. Almost as if they’re brothers. Maybe even…
Oh.Oh.
The floor tilts as understanding snaps into place. Ishanna help me, these fae aren’t just brothers, they’retwins. The goblin might have fangs where Amriel doesn’t, and gleaming purple skin to Amriel’s gold, but now that I see them beside each other, there’s no mistake.
Amriel and his Shadow stare at me from behind two different versions of the same face.
The king saunters close, his smile venomous. For all that I longed to run from his Shadow, I want to run from Amriel even more. But I stand frozen, all the blood in my body puddling into my feet.
He stops before me. Evelyn whimpers at my side, but Amriel doesn’t spare her a glance. He leans down to inspect my features, the planes of his face rendered harsh by the torchlight. His attention glides along the arch of my eyebrows, the curves of my cheeks. When he finishes with my face, he steps back and peruses every line of my body, right through my dress.
A burn saturates my cheeks as I fight the urge to hide myself with my hands. I can’t believe he’d stare this openly. This wickedly. As if I’m nothing more than chattel. Flesh to be weighed and judged.
Whatever he sees pulls a condescending chuckle from his throat. I dare to hope that means he finds me lacking, but my wish dissolves when he steps in and wraps a hank of my hair around his fist. I angle away, my eyes squeezed shut, revulsion like a cold boulder lodged in my gut.
Breathe, I tell myself.Trust in Ishanna, and this will be over soon.
But when I pry an eye open, Amriel only sidles closer. Goddess, he’s enormous. Up close, he smells like frost and winter berries and something astringent. Something that must be wine, because I’ve smelled it before, on my cousin, right before he was ejected from my father’s castle for the crime of intemperance.
“You’re right, my Shadow,” the fae king murmurs. “She smells like no one else.” He dips his head and presses his nose to my neck, sucking in my scent like he’s entitled to it. His hand tunnels into my hair, cupping my nape, pulling me closer.
I sway on my feet, my pulse a fiery roar in my ears. This has to be a routine part of the Claiming, right? Amriel must smell everyone like this. Any moment now, he’ll decide he doesn’t want me and step away.
But long seconds die between us, and the fae king doesn’t retreat. His breath skitters across my skin, an invasive heat I try to pull away from. But his hold only tightens, his grip like iron.
“She smells like…” He inhales even more deeply this time. “Our mate. Finally.”
Our mate. Those two words slice across my thoughts. I jerk back far enough to meet the fae king’s eyes. He stares back at me.
Our mate.
The world tips, a dizzy kaleidoscope of light and sound and color. Insome alternate reality somewhere, people are talking over one another, but none of it touches me. How could it, when the fae king’s gaze lances into me as mercilessly as a nail driven through my skull?
Mate, mate, mate.
I want to deny it. I don’t even know whatitmeans, exactly. And yet a horrible confirmation is budding in the space between us. I feel it in the heat that unpeels from my bones when his stare pierces mine. In the way his touch spills a fiery poison through me, one that will surely bring my ruin.
Our mate. A parched whimper sticks in my throat.
Ours.
