He snorts. “I would give my arm to save Kaden, Max. He’s been a role model my entire life.” He looks down at his hand, flexing his fingers. “My mother has never seen me the way the Moorgate siblings do. Even with their problems, with Zelos, the Human attacks, they’ve never treated me as poorly as she and Fenrir. So, yes, I would gladly help because they mean that much to me. But if I do, I will not be welcomed here. Not if Fenrir is still alive. I’ll need a way to ensure my safety.”
Tilting my head, I think through his concerns. Mal is the second son—but also illegitimate in the eyes of the Woodland court. If they found out, Fenrir would be able to kill him without any fuss.
I don’t want to see him die for helping us.
“If you help me,” I say, licking my lips.Am I really suggesting this?“I will support your claim to the throne.”
“My claim?—”
“You know Effy isn’t your mother.” I’m guessing. But by the way his jaw clenches, he might not have known, but suspected it. “You also know you might be killed should we succeed and Fenrir takes the throne. If you help us, I will promise to keep you alive and give the throne to you.”
Kaden always said Mal would make a better king than Fenrir.
The Fae looks to the side, fingers clenching in thought. Whatever he wanted, wasn’t this. But it’s the best alternative. I cannot keep him alive if Fenrir is king, and he will want to go home when we finish.
After a pause, he gives me one defensive nod. “I accept.”
Taking my elbow, he steers me toward the exit. I dig my heels in, whipping away. “I’m not leaving Fee and Reid.”
“They’re not here.” He grabs me again, throwing my hood over my face. “Wherever Kaden sent them, it wasn’t the dungeon. We need to search the castle.”
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” Aoife and her guards will surely notice us.
“We’ll take the servants passageways.” Stepping out into the main hall, we don’t go the way before. He slips to the side, pulling back a tapestry. Behind it is a small dark alcove and further back, a closed wooden door. “If my mother has them trapped, she’s using the wings she always forbade us from entering.”
The passageway is tight, dark, and smell of dust and old fowl. My eyesight is terrible, but Mal keeps his hand on my elbow, directing me through the small space.
“Why would she forbid you from entering certain wings? It’s your palace.”
“I never asked. I never wanted to anger her.” He opens another door. Another hall greets us, but at least there are wall sconces of candles to lit our path.
“She wasn’t good to you, was she?”
Mal clears his throat, remaining silent. It’s the same look Fee had when she spoke of Zelos—a child that loved a parent, only for them to harm them in return. I place my hand on his forearm and squeeze—just enough for him to know he isn’t alone.
Continuing on, we go through more doors, through more halls. Slowly, I feel the incline rise, my knees climbing up. The air gets hotter and the walls begin to sweat.
We finally get to another door, with a large black clasp. He undoes it and the hinges squeal loudly.
Mal stops before we go through. “She was kind, for a time. When my father was alive. But after his death, she grew colder, her mannerisms sharper. I always thought my mother disliked me because I was the spare son—never truly needed. She had Fenrir. But I heard whispers.”
I lick my lips, keeping my face emotionless. “The servants?”
“They loved my father,” he explains, voice cracking. “He was kind and gentle. He had a fondness for plants and flowers. The gardens were his idea. But he was forced to marry my mother when she cured the plague over our lands. He never had a choice.”
Grief and sadness close my mouth. It’s the same situation Kaden’s mother was in—forced to marry someone she never loved. Forced to endure instead of live.
Mal clears his throat, looking away. “The servants said the only person he loved was a lowly maid. She became his mistress and died in childbirth to me. I didn’t know this of course—not until years later. After his death.”
“If you are to help me,” he says quietly, “it will not be easy. Be sure you mean it.”
Sadly, I pat his arm and catch his gaze. The Woodland Kingdom will make it difficult, but Mal deserves to rule. I have no doubt his father would’ve wanted him on the throne. “You would be an honorable king. And if we make it out of this, I will do everything to make sure you succeed.”
The hallway is empty as we slip out from the wall canvas. A large golden frame, it’s a painting of flowers in spring. Every time I see one of these canvases, I will always think of Mal’s father.
Quickly, we move, opening doors, inspecting and moving on. It takes too long. As the sun starts to set, we reach the last door only for it to be locked.
“Finally,” he mutters. Using the ring of keys, he tries four before the latch unlocks. At my look, he shrugs. “You didn’t expect them to be in an unlocked room, did you?”
