My instincts tell me something isn’t right here. This part of the palace clearly isn’t deserted, so why are there no guards? Suddenly I wonder if our escape this far has been too easy. Was the choice to remove the irons from me deliberate? Were we meant to break free so we could be scapegoated for yet another death, perhaps? I could walk away and let whatever plan is in motion play out, or I could find out exactly what is going on here.
Following my gut, I gently push open the door to the room I heard someone moving through. Alastor is whispering questions at me, his eyes wide with frustration, but he follows me into a dark drawing room. There are a few doors running off the room, but only one has a hooded figure disappearing through it. My eyes drop to the unmistakable shape of a blade curving down from the figure’s hand.
I have time to give Alastor one quick look over my shoulder. He nods, and we throw ourselves after the intruder.
* * *
MORGANA
Over and over the sensations come, the memory of Bede’s attack refusing to let me go.
I choke on water, crushed by the weight on top of me—a bloody, smoking carcass caressing my skin. I’m going to die, I know this as much as I know my own name, and I can’t even scream?—
A noise awakens me—the clatter of something skidding across the floor of my room. I’m not sure what’s going on, but my instincts are on full alert.
Danger.
This time, I won’t be too slow. This time, I’m ready. The knife is sheathed in the belt I’ve slept in every night since Bede’s attack. As I wrench myself out of bed and swing the blade in a tight circle as Will taught me, I spot the vague shape of my jewelry box a few feet from me. Just as I’ve done every night since Bede’s attack, I placed it in front of my closed door to warn me of someone entering. One step beyond it stands a tall figure, something long and curved clutched in their hand.
The door slams fully open, and two more people barge in—a pair of tall men.
I back up as the hooded figure spins and blocks one of their blades. My eyes are growing accustomed to the dark, and by now I recognize one of the tall men with a dreadful knot in my stomach.
Because it’s not a man at all. Not ahumanman, anyway.
It’s the Nightmare Prince.
Beside him is the fae companion he must’ve been arrested with, his blond hair shining in the snatches of moonlight filtering between the curtains. It takes me only seconds to see that the fae will win this fight, and it’s only a moment later that they make my prediction come true. They move with such swift confidence that their opponent doesn’t stand a chance. His blade is thrown across the room just before the prince buries his sword in his stomach.
His victim hits the floor, his hood falling back to reveal a cloth wrapped over half his face. I don’t have time to think, only to brace myself for what’s to come. As the hooded man rakes in a final, wet breath, I raise my knife again, standing off against the two powerful killers.
I desperately search for that feeling I had a week ago, when I last thought I was going to die—the boiling heat that coursed through my veins and poured out of me. My magic saved me then, surely it will appear now.
Firesta, help me please, send me your power,I pray, begging for divine rescue.
But my body remains cold with fear, and the room dark as the night outside. Nothing is coming to help me.
The prince smirks as he approaches me. I wonder how much he’ll enjoy my death. I decide that however sharp his blade is, I won’t scream, even if I have to bite off my own tongue to hold it in. Seeing how quickly he works, I know no one will get here in time to stop this, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
With a single maneuver, so fast I almost miss it, he knocks the knife from my hand, snatching it out of the air before neatly tucking it into his own belt.
“You, princess, are coming with us,” he says.
I blink, confused. Wasn’t I supposed to be dying by now? His companion looks as bewildered as I feel.
“Captain…”
The other fae steps over the dead man, and I stare at the blood seeping across the floor. I think the shock of the situation has frayed my nerves, because for a moment all I can focus on is the fact that corpses keep turning up on my bedroom floor.
The prince sighs, reaching forward and wrapping a large hand around my forearm. I’m too spun out to mask my reaction, and I flinch at the touch. Undeterred, he tugs me toward him. A litany of curses and harsh words spring to mind, and even though I know that spitting insults at him won’t do me any favors, I let loose.
He looks at me in surprise while the blond barks out a laugh. “Well, that’s creative,” he says as he claps the prince on the back.
“And hardly accurate. My parentage has never been called into question.”
“Where will you take me?” I ask, trying to pull my arm free from his tight grip.
“You’re our insurance policy out of here, princess, so you’ll come as far as we need you.”
