Page 58 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

“Nowyou.”

The High King’s eyes rove over my skin.

I don’t have many options. No distinguished skills—Old Ones know no one here wants to hear me sing. I think the word Finn once used wascaterwauling, and that won’t save me now. It might just get me murdered faster.

There’s no hand to play, except one—words whispered years ago when Finn first heard them, and then tricked me.

The armor around my heart trembles but holds.

“A thousand miles you may roam, and I will follow and not miss home,” I say with all the false confidence I can muster. I pause as a hush falls over the throne room. “No rain that falls or snow that blows, nor hunger and thirst will I bemoan. But when the sun sets, you’ll be alone. What am I?”

The High King’s stare locks me in place. His pupils are enormous—is he on some kind of drug?

Prince Cashel’s fists, his entire body, tighten at his father’s side.

“A riddle,” he says in a cool, easy voice. But it’s too easy. One hand rests lightly on his father’s shoulder, and he leans in to whisper in his ear. The High King nods, leaning back on his throne. “Who here can prove they are worthy of my father’s presence?” the prince asks the crowd. “Let’s hear your sharp minds, yourcunning.”

The first courtier throws out a guess.

“A compass!”

Others soon follow.

“Servant?”

All I’m aware of is that the Lady of Shadows is close—close enough to rip my throat apart if this doesn’t work. Then it’ll be my blood seeping across these marble tiles.

A faint swish seems to dust the floor somewhere behind me, and terror surges from deep within me—

Is it her?

The High King picks at the edge of his little finger. I see the blood beading where he tears off a thorn of hard skin and brings the crimson to his lips. He leans forward in a rush. “The sun!”

Talon tenses at my side.

Terror shoots through me again.

Because the High King is wrong. That’s not the answer, and there’s no way for me to lie and pretend like it is. But if I tell him he’s wrong in front of everyone…

The High King’s eyes lock on mine and narrow. My stomach lurches. There’s no emotion, no humanity, in his empty stare.

Talon’s stance shifts subtlety as one hand brushes the hilt of their sword.

Then a cool voice cuts in. “A shadow.” Prince Cashel steps in front of his father on the dais. His gaze searches mine quickly, and he steps down to where I stand at the edge of the line of noble daughters, barely able to breathe. The crisp, sharp scent of him surrounds me; his sapphire eyes seem to soften on mine. “That’s the answer, isn’t it?”

Murmurs rise from the crowd as he brushes his thumb along my chin and lifts my face, drawing me in close to speak so softly that his lips just barely brush the shell of my ear. “Donotlet them see your fear,” he warns, then pulls back to meet my eyes once more. Sandy hair falls over his forehead, and he combs it back neatly with his fingers.

The sharp spice of his scent sets my teeth on edge.

I force myself to nod, to draw in enough breath to answer him aloud. “Yes,” I respond, steeling my spine. I lower my voice so only he can hear. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

His eyes linger on mine just long enough for a new shiver to rise from the base of my spine. “I didn’t meanme,” the Bloody Prince murmurs. “But good to know.”

Wary, scattered applause rises from the crowd around us.

Talon is stiff as a board beside me, though. And I can’t shake my unease, even as the prince steps back and raises both hands to the crowds, playing the glowing heir perfectly.

But the set of his shoulders beneath that midnight velvet tunic is tense despite the smile he pastes on his mouth. And his left hand stays empty, refusing cup after cup of wine offered his way and toying with the hilt of the broadsword at his waist.