17

The amulet is exactly where I left it, buried among the mess of silver and gold in my jewelry chest.

I don’t know why I kept it.

I never expected to see the dead bane’s family—which is what this Baylor must be. No, I threw it in my jewelry chest and then forgot about it.

Until now.

The gold feels warm beneath my touch as I turn the amulet over. I know who they are now. Baylor and Lysander, the shapeshifting twins who act as two of Thiago’s generals. They were legends during the wars and served the Grimm himself before turning their loyalty over to the Prince of Evernight when the Grimm was locked away in a prison world.

It’s strange how Thiago seemingly collects such misfits.

Baylor and Lysander served an Old One, Cian’s Unseelie, and Eris is….

I don’t know what Eris is.

Not fae. Or not wholly fae.

Then there’s the prince himself.

The right thing to do would be to return it to Baylor and tell him what happened to his brother.

But how do I tell him my sister killed Lysander? How do I admit that I shot him too?

There are legends that speak of him. Eris, Baylor, and Lysander have always been considered Evernight’s most vicious generals. The Blackheart, they call him, though he’s as golden of hair as Andraste is.

If he discovers his brother is dead by my sister’s hand, then there’s no guessing how he’ll react.

The walls of my tower room seem to close in upon me. One of the servants escorted me here so I couldn’t take any detours, and I know there’s a guard standing at the door. Clearly the prince doesn’t want me wandering through this castle, which makes me wonder what he’s hiding.

I haven’t felt this alone since I arrived here.

It doesn’t help that every time I unearth a clue, another question forms.

Why is the prince treating me like a dangerous enemy that needs to be locked away in her rooms while we’re here? Why did he blindfold me through the portal? It’s clear he doesn’t want me here in Ceres, and only the threat of Angharad made him bring me. But what doesn’t he want me to see?

And how did Lysander recognize me that day in the forest?

A soft rap comes at the door, making me jump.

“Come in,” I call, snapping the lid of my jewelry case shut.

Thalia enters, carrying a tray covered with a purple cloth. “I thought you might be hungry after your journey.”

The thoughtfulness surprises me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She lays the tray on the bed between us and sits down.

A swift glimpse reveals an Asturian beef stew with hot bread rolls that still steam from the oven, slabs of butter, a pair of honey cakes, and a handful of grapes. All of my favorites on one tray.

It’s either impressive or unnerving.

“The prince has clearly been paying attention,” I murmur, plucking a grape free and popping it in my mouth.

“He notices everything,” Thalia says, rolling her eyes. “Especially when you don’t want him to notice.”

“Either that or he has an agenda.”

She smiles. “That too. Don’t ever think he’s not up to something.”

“I don’t.”

I tear into the bread, slathering butter over it and then dunking it in the stew. “Sweet Maia.” It’s so good, though I haven’t eaten in hours so anything would taste amazing right now.

“Baylor’s not that scary,” she murmurs after an appropriate pause.

Aha.

Clearly, Thalia takes after her cousin, for he’s not the only one with an agenda, it seems.

“He didn’t scare me,” I tell her. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You went white as a wraith,” she replies, “the second you saw him.”

“He is the Blackheart, is he not? My mother’s generals piss their pants when they hear they’ll be facing him.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the sort to be afraid of him. And he may be this big, gruff bear, but he’s perfectly housebroken.” She flashes a smile at me. “If you think him scary, you should see the orphaned kittens he thinks nobody knows he’s got stashed in his rooms. He takes them saucers of milk every night, but the demi-fey think it’s for them, so they’ve been stealing it. Now he’s set traps for the demi-fey.”

She bursts into a peal of laughter, as if she’s picturing it.

I can’t help myself. A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. I don’t know why, but I feel as though I’ve known her forever.

Thalia reminds me of Andraste, and how things used to be.

The second I think it, my smile dies.

Thalia rests a hand over mine. “I understand. It must be overwhelming to think yourself the pawn between two courts.”

“No, it’s just…. I miss my sister. I miss my home. And even then….” It was never truly a home. It hasn’t been for a long time. “Have you ever felt as though you don’t belong anywhere?”

“Yes,” she whispers, and her fingers curl through mine. “When I was a child, I was… unwanted. The fae are rarely fertile, and my mother had a brief fling with a mysterious man on a beach one night. His seed took, and here I am.” She shrugs, but I can see she hasn’t escaped the weight of her past. “I’m the bastard offspring of one of the saltkissed. My grandmother tried to drown me at birth. As you can imagine, I never had a home until I arrived here.”

“Your grandmother?” Thiago’s grandmother?

Thalia shudders. “An evil bitch if ever I’ve met one. She’s dead now. Sometimes I spit on her grave.”

Tugging another piece of bread from the roll, I pop it in my mouth. “When I was a little girl, I spat in my mother’s teapot once. She would have killed me if she ever realized.”

“Your mother does make my grandmother seem a benevolent soul,” Thalia admits.

I offer her a grape. There’s not much to say to that.

At least she didn’t try to drown me at birth.

That I know of.

“So you’re half saltkissed?” Does that mean Thiago has the sea in his veins too? Or is it through her maternal bloodline that they share blood? “You were alive during the wars?”

The Father of Storms created the saltkissed many an eon ago, gifting his worshippers with the ability to breathe underwater and to have voices that could sing a sailor to his grave. Most of them were female worshippers, which is typical—I’m sure they “worshipped” him in a particular way—but a very prized few were males.

Most of them were trapped in the prison world with him when they bound him to the Hallow that resides on the rocky Isle of Stormhaven in the middle of the Innesmuch Sea.

The ones who remained in this world lost their voices.

I’m told that sometimes you can still hear them, pouring their rage through a conch shell late at night.

“I was alive,” Thalia mutters. “I was living in Unseelie territories then, trying to eke out a living. It wasn’t a pleasant time. I’d been exiled by my grandmother and found myself hunted by every type of creature who can be found in those forests. Thiago found me after the wars, locked in a cage in the goblin caves. They liked my voice and used to make me sing for them by stabbing me through the cage with their spears until I relented. My powers were starting to mature, and Thiago could sense me out there in the world somewhere. He didn’t know who or what he was feeling, but he came for me. He rescued me. And I’ve been by his side ever since.”

I feel a little embarrassed.

“I think your grandmother might be worse than my mother,” I tell her.

Thalia picks at my bread roll. “If you knew the things I know about your mother, you might not say that.”

I daresay I wouldn’t.

It’s surprising how easily I believe her. Mother’s always claimed the kingdom of Evernight is ruled by a circle of vicious, power-hungry bottom crawlers who dabble in the dark magics of the Unseelie kingdom, but I’ve seen little in the way of evil brewing, and after being raised in her court, I think I’d recognize it.

The moment’s a breathless one.

What if we Asturians aren’t the ones on the right side of this entire war?

Did my mother push us into a war against a kingdom that’d done nothing wrong?

It’s been brewing for so long, a series of brief skirmishes that the Alliance holds in check from full-blown war, that I can barely remember what started it.

His wife.

The thought stabs at me. My mother took his wife from him, and he’s never forgiven her.

“I didn’t scare you off, did I?” Thalia jests. “You look like you’re going to throw up on the grapes.”

“I’m fine. Just dwelling on… unpleasant thoughts.”

“Well, I suppose we were talking about your mother. That’s as unpleasant as topics of conversation come.”

I pick at a grape, rolling it between my fingers. I’ve tried to discover the truth, but to no avail. When Thiago locked me away in Valerian, he severed my connection to the world. But now…. “Tell me something…. How did the prince meet his wife?”

Thalia rears back. “I think you’d best ask Thiago that.”

“I’m asking you.”

She hesitates. “Princess—”

“Vi,” I insist.

“Vi,” she says, meeting my eyes. “It was thirteen years ago—”

No wonder I can’t remember. I would have been barely eight or nine. Nine, I think. My birthday’s near the autumn equinox, though I haven’t celebrated it in years.

“They met at the Lammastide rites,” Thalia continues, her voice growing wistful. “He loved her the moment he saw her, and she must have owned the same feelings, for they married the next day. Why are you asking?”

“No reason.” I see her eyes narrow. “Beyond the fact we were speaking of my mother, and I was thinking of the war between our kingdoms.”

“Adaia resented the marriage,” Thalia mutters. “War had been brewing over the Mistmere territories, but it only erupted when she stole the poor girl away. She wanted to hurt him, and she succeeded.”

“What happened to her?”

“I… I don’t know. The queen only ever sent… pieces of her back.”

It makes me swallow. “Fine. My mother’s the evilest bitch in the entire Alliance. I win.”

I can’t help thinking of the prince.

He loved her.

And my mother destroyed her. Imagine opening a box and finding the finger of your loved one? Or worse….

My mother’s been known to send hearts instead.

“Seeing me must cause him no small amount of pain,” I whisper. Imagine looking into the eyes of your enemy’s daughter every day? “I can’t believe he doesn’t hate me for it.”

“He’s treated you well?” Thalia asks carefully.

“I nearly expired of boredom, but that was the only danger.” Indeed, he’s been kinder than I probably deserve. And all I’ve offered him are sharp words.

“There’s time to make amends,” Thalia says, pushing to her feet. “Perhaps if you gave him a chance, you might find those amends aren’t really so bad, after all.”

I throw my last grape at her. “You’re as bad as he is.”

And while the attraction between us threatens to overwhelm me, I don’t want to be some pathetic substitute for his poor dead wife.

“Of course I am,” she says with a smile. “We are related. And I think it’s time for him to pursue happiness.”

“You overrate my charms.”

“You underestimate them,” she points out. “Sleep well, Princess. And call me if you ever want to speak. I think we’re going to be great friends.”

“I’d say you have impeccable taste, but then you seem to like Eris too.”

There’s something about Thalia that wins a smile from me, regardless of how hard I’m trying not to.

She grins. “Eris has her charms. But she’s emphatically loyal to Thiago. She thinks you’re going to break his heart and get him killed.”

“How can I break his heart when he’s already given it away?”

Thalia pauses. “Love is a renewable resource. You can destroy the source of it. You can twist it, and curse it, and deny it all you like. But you can never completely obliterate the possibility of it. All you have to do is be open to it. He gave his heart once, Vi. It doesn’t mean he can’t give it again. It will always beat for her, but perhaps it can beat for you too?”

“I was under the impression he was trying to use me to get her back,” I mutter.

Thalia blinks in utter surprise. “How in Maia’s name did you ever dream up such an idea?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her about the letters.

But I still don’t know who penned them or what the author means by any of it.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s probably… something I heard in my mother’s court.”

“Don’t believe anything you hear in your mother’s court,” Thalia says in a droll voice. “It’s either poison or lies. What did you think he was planning? Did you think he intended to sacrifice you to Kato in order to fetch her from the Underworld?”

The thought did cross my mind.

“No,” I scoff. “I don’t know. I hadn’t… thought much of it.”

Only every night since I overheard the prince talking to Cian.

“The prince means you no harm,” she says. “I wish you’d believe me.”

I wish I could too.

But, as kind and charming as he’s been, I can’t help feeling as though he’s watching me too.

He is the Prince of Evernight, after all, renowned for his ruthlessness. And he’s hiding something from me. They all are. Even Thalia, with her friendly smiles and her tray of food, is clearly seeking to placate me.

I don’t know who to trust.

Eris, perhaps.

She’s the only one not hiding her feelings toward me.

“Thiago’s going to contact the alliance tonight,” Thalia tells me, pausing by the door. “You may as well get some sleep, he said. He’ll see you in the morning.” She rolls her eyes. “Hopefully your dreams tonight are a little nicer than they clearly have been.”

No kiss.

I don’t know why that bothers me.

Every night, I’ve brushed the most perfunctory of kisses against his lips, and every night he’s merely watched me with those knowing, knowing eyes.

But she’s left me with much to think about.

“Hopefully,” I say.

“Until tomorrow then,” she calls, closing the door behind her and leaving me with the pressing silence of my suspicions.

And my lonely, lonely bed.

I dream of being hunted through a vast, shadowy forest by enormous black hounds. Howls echo to my right, but when I bolt down a narrow trail, there’s a shadow snapping at my heels.

There’s no escape.

The Grimm and his hounds are on my trail, and I know I can’t outrun them. Breath panting, lungs heaving, I shove at the thorns that slash at my arms and clothes.

“Rest, Vi,” comes a whisper, and I swear I feel a hand brush against my cheek.

Another howl cuts in from the right.

They’re everywhere. The entire pack must be following me.

“No. You’re safe here. The hounds won’t dare follow you.” There’s a kiss to my forehead, and then the world starts to dissolve around me.

The forest starts to open up, and I can hear the hounds baying in the distance. They seem to be falling behind, and as I stumble into a sunny clearing, I fall to my knees and pant.

The Grimm only rides at night.

And he’s locked away in his prison world, trapped for all eternity. It’s just a dream. It has to be a dream. Except that one of the hounds looked like Baylor, and I don’t know how to tell him the truth.

“The truth?” This time the whisper sounds startled.

I sit bolt upright in bed, covered in a cold sweat. My heart is racing, and judging from the tangle of my sheets, I’ve been thrashing.

I could also swear I wasn’t alone.

There’s an indentation on the sheets beside me, and when I reach out to touch it, it’s still warm.

“Thiago?” I whisper.

Nothing moves. The breeze blows through the gauzy curtains by the window, but I’d be able to see something in the hazy moonlight, wouldn’t I?

Tossing aside the sheets, I search the room. It’s empty, but when I return to the bed, I can still feel the ghostly press of lips to my forehead.

He was in here, I’ll swear it.

And worse, he was in my dreams.

And now he knows.