Our breaths clash, a congestion of wide-eyed emotions surfacing. It’s as if I’m a tyke again, being introduced to certain feelings for the first time. The mystery of sorrow, the delicious thrill of fear, and the perplexity of desire.
Most of all? Loss and longing.
That’s how it is to look at Cerulean.
His brows crinkle, something puzzled and a little bit anguished flashing across the scythes of his irises. At last, he grimaces with disdain and drags himself backward.
I recoil, fresh rancor pumping through my veins. How dare I share a bona fide moment with this Fae, when everything about him is twisted and wrong, and any connection to him is twisted and wrong, too. His ilk has terrorized humans for eons, and his brothers have forced my sisters into their clutches. Cerulean expects me to survive a landscape of violent magic, or die trying to reach its zenith, and entertain him while doing it.
All because I’d crossed a borderline. All because I’d broken some arbitrary rule.
Well, guess what? I’m about to break a whole lot more than rules. Come thirteen days from now, I’ll bust his mind open like a treasure chest and rob him of everything inside.
Then again, why wait?
“You creatures aren’t very creative on your own, if it takes a lowly mortal to amuse you,” I say. “Keep wasting your energy like this, and one will think we have a lasting effect on Faeries. One might call it power over you.”
Cerulean’s eyes flash. He stalks so near that his mouth brushes my chin, his words scraping across my flesh. It’s almost sensual when he warns, “Be. Very. Fucking. Careful.”
The rotunda evaporates into a thicket of clouds. The crescent niche reappears, eclipsing the throne summit—or rather, The Parliament of Owls.
I startle at the transformation. If nothing is as it seems, how am I supposed to get through this place in one piece, with my sanity intact?
Stars spray the hemisphere with white and teal. A breeze loops through, stirring up a wall of sparkling fog that hovers before the niche. I spot a camouflaged rift in the vapors, a cranny swooping up the center. The milky film splits with a hiss, spritzing me with steam.
The signpost has returned, except now it wields two markers instead of one, both pointing toward the crescent. BeneathThe Parliament of Owls, the second one reads,The Solitary Mountain.
Cerulean’s shadow dallies behind me, extending across the mesh of rowan branches. “That cuckoo clock you mentioned is ticking,” he advises.
I’m not afraid of heights. If I know anything—besides how to woo a scoundrel and whip a foe—it’s how to climb.
I can do this. I can.
No, I can’t. There’s no way I can reach the top of a Fae mountain, for a hundred reasons that don’t need listing.
I muster up the images of Juniper’s spectacles and Cove’s shy grin. Then I step past the veil. The entrance vibrates on either side of me, leading to a courtyard. In the center, another signpost erected within a patch of swaying grass wields a half-dozen labels spearing in different directions. Beyond that, I see a whole lot of nothing.
“Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll give you a tip,” Cerulean says from the entrance. “Only one direction is reliable. Oh, and don’t waste your head start.”
“What?” I blurt out, swerving in time to catch his cavalier grin—right before he flicks his wrist. The veil of fog snaps shut, closing with another hiss and flooding me in darkness.
9
If I were a character in a book, one sister in particular—I don’t need to name her—would be screaming at the page right now. Because how could I forget the Fae power of omission?
I should have remembered. Games need opponents.
…don’t waste your head start.
Here I thought I’d be playing alone. I’d expected to have a fair shot.
Big mistake. Cerulean made no such promise.
Seems I’ve got a competitor. Or I reckon the term is, saboteur. Cerulean doesn’t have to puzzle through his own land, so whenever that Fae’s in the mood, he can use magic and show up. But how will he know my progress or where to find me?
I shake my head. Too much dallying, not enough moving.
Juniper would say it’s stupid to travel alone at night. Problem is, making camp isn’t an option, particularly not in the beginning. In a foreign land dominated by nocturnal Fae, I need to keep my wits about me whenever they’re awake.
