Ammon blinked, the flicking torchlight illuminating the stone walls covered in hieroglyphs. Pressure throbbed in his head, and he felt wrapped tighter than a cocoon. He groaned and pressed a hand to his head. Turning about, he surveyed every corner of the chamber filled with jars, gold, and jewels. This isn’t my room.
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As the Imperial heir, Sergei received virtually all within our mother’s possession upon her death: title, wealth, lands—even the loyalty of her Court and Council. She ordered them to raise their hands and vow over her deathbed to support Sergei. Such an oath holds more power than any law.
Yet to my mother’s…
There is nothing more tedious than a Chalean war party. Their banter is unintelligent, their manners are lackluster, and don’t even get me started on the leftover jerky I’ve been forced to eat for nine days in a row now.
Maybe—maybe—if they had let me ride on a horse that didn’t sneeze
I go to the beach to escape committing more murder.
I take in the ocean’s revitalizing air to think clearly. The salty waves sting the broken blisters on my feet. I dip my hands into the water, wishing I could wash the metaphorical blood from them, and the coldness sends shivers over my body.
When you plan to murder a monarch, the last creature you should ever tell is a tree.
Yes, every peasant child knows you can’t trust oaks, but I had to get the woods involved. You see, fae kings are notoriously bad at dying, and it would be unacceptable for a man of my station
The face in the crystalline mirror is nothing like what I remember. Cold eyes, a crown of perfectly pressed hair, expression like fine stone glazed in ice.
No one told me becoming the fae Queen would be like… this.
I strain to catch even the slightest glimpse of fire in the depths of her eyes
The carriage rolled into sight, its glossy emblem flashing like a beacon on its side. A loud crack split the deceptive quiet of the forest as the front wheel fell into a concealed hole.
“Now!” Elsie yelled.
A couple dozen bodies emerged from their hiding places and descended on the conveyance and outlying guards
Once again, Diah was breaking into her own palace. She huffed, edging along the shadowed side of her castle. How many times had she done this? Seven? Ten? She was losing count.
She paused and ran her hands along the cold stone wall until she found the deep grooves that had been cut precisely
“You’ve been gone so long, milady. We thought you might never come back.” Agnes smooths out my blankets, rumpled from my restless sleep. “How was your stay in the country?” She sounds nonchalant, but shoots me a covert glance.
Does she know?
Beeswax sweetens the air, and I lurch from my chair
Morning light filtered through the jungle mist, bedewing the dirt below and the life teeming within it. Kithoor adjusted her weight in the saddle and pressed her bare, malachite-hued legs against the sides of her mount. Snorting, the scaly, barbed monstrosity turned its crested head. He clawed the mud and bellowed.
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When the stranger reached fifteen paces, Xildar called, “Friend or foe?”
“Neither.” The voice peaked like an unripened boy. A fabric hat framed most of his face—a face about eighteen years in the making. His teeth were exceptionally white. His leather and linen clothing might’ve been made by the seamstress who’d fashioned Xildar’s attire.
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