Read the First Chapter

The silence in the Council Chamber was thick and dangerous as I entered, my presence unexpected—and unwelcome. The tension of it settled like a weight pressing on my chest, nearly as suffocating as the grief I'd been carrying all morning.

Eight powerful fae sat around the ornately carved table at the center of the room, attired in deep, mourning blue. Seated among them, silver circlet glinting beneath the faelight, was Endri—my brother, the new head of the Council, the prince and heir apparent.

But it wasn't Endri who held the attention of every person in the room as I claimed the seat to his left—it was me.

The half-human daughter of the king.

The king who now lay dead.

I stiffened as Endri cleared his throat and leaned toward me with careful grace, his twilight-blue eyes sliding to meet mine. At first, he said nothing, his face a mask of cool impassiveness—but I knew him well enough to read the tension in the lines of his body.

“What are you doing here?” he said in a low voice.

I forced myself to hold his stare, certain he could hear my heart thundering against my ribs. When I managed to speak, my voice was barely a whisper. “I have every right to be here.”

Endri considered me, his silence more terrifying than if he'd raised his voice. I could practically see the thoughts churning in his mind, writing themselves in his expression in subtle tells I had grown too familiar with over the years—the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw, the way his pupils dilated, the slight twitch of his eyebrows. When he finally acknowledged what I'd said, it was to hum thoughtfully and straighten in his chair, turning his attention back to the assembled Councilors.

“My lords,” Endri drawled, and gestured vaguely in my direction. His voice was edged with barely restrained contempt. “The princess will be joining us.”

A tense ripple of acknowledgment moved through the room, and I forced myself to sit a little straighter. I have every right to be here.

“Your Highness.” To my left, a gentle female voice broke through the murmuring and unease, and when I turned in my chair, eyes the color of moss met mine beneath furrowed, elegant white brows. “My deepest sympathies to you, Princess.” Araneya's voice was a warm, steady embrace against my aching heart, and her sincerity drew a shuddering breath from deep inside me.

It had been hours since the king's body had been discovered in his chambers, since Endri had flatly informed me of our father's death. Whispers had already begun snaking through the corridors, rife with rumor. And yet, for all the hours that had passed, for all that everyone knew how much I loved my father, Araneya's sympathy for my loss was the first the Court had offered to me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice rough with tears.

She opened her mouth to offer more—

“Lord Oleian.” My brother's tone was sharp as a blade as he addressed the cool-gazed male beside Araneya.

Her mouth snapped shut, and she pressed her lips together as if suppressing a hiss. Regret stole over her face, and she turned from me to look at Endri. “Have heralds been dispatched with the news?”

“Awaiting the order, Your Highness,” the Voice of the Provinces answered smoothly, his ocher eyes shrewd and cunning as he met Endri's gaze.

“Give it,” Endri said.

“Yes, Highness.” Oleian bowed his head, waves of honey brown hair falling over his brow. He rose to his feet, and the delicate silver chains piercing the tips of his ears glinted in the faelight, jingling faintly as he strode from the room.

I swallowed hard around the tears stuck in my throat, as the door closed with a soft click behind him. Oleian would send heralds throughout the provinces with the news of the king's death. News of my father's death.

I stifled a sniff, and glanced out across the table. Grim, pitying gazes met my own.

Endri made a soft, bored sound, and turned back to Araneya, lacing his fingers over his stomach. For a moment, he fixed her with an expression he usually turned on me—patronizing, indulgent, resentful. But the priestess was much too old to be cowed by him, and she met his contempt with steady expectation.

“Have the arrangements been made for the king's body?” Endri asked at last.

Another shuddering breath escaped me.

“Yes, Highness,” Araneya answered, her tone calm. “The king's body has been interred in the Palace Sanctuary, and the rites will be performed three days from now when the High Priestesses arrive.”

“Good.” The corner of his eye twitched. “And you'll begin preparations for my ascension.” It wasn't a question.

Araneya considered him, searching my brother's face to determine if his concern was merely practical, or if his motives went further.

Knowing Endri, it was likely both.

Finally, she said, “All will be ready by the full moon.”

My brother gave a curt nod, his attention lingering.

“With all due respect, Highness, pageantry is hardly the most pressing priority,” said a low, hard voice to Endri's right.

My brother's shoulders tightened, and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he snapped his attention to the other side of the table, leveling his eyes at the male who had spoken. I could hear his teeth grinding together as he fought to maintain composure in the face of such audacity, and my chest constricted.

I knew how it felt to be under that stare, to feel that barely restrained rage seeping out like ink bleeding across paper.

“What of the investigation into the king's death?” the lord—Aeryn—pressed. His voice nearly broke on the words, and my grief quivered through me anew. He had been my father's Sworn Confidant—Oathbound through magic since he was fifteen to serve at my father's side, as an advisor, and as a brother beyond blood.

He wore his anguish openly, jaw tight, eyes rimmed with tears.

Endri let Aeryn's question hang in the air long enough to watch him squirm, then answered smoothly, “Captain Jorvain and Lord Marro have already begun an investigation. They agree it appears the king was assassinated.” His words were cold and matter of fact. The same tone he'd used when breaking the news to me that morning.

My heart dropped, and grief gripped me tightly around the ribs. It still felt surreal, untrue—just another lie of Endri's to goad me. And yet, there we were, the King's Council—the Prince's Council, now—discussing my father's funeral rites, and speculating on the cause of the Eilyrian king's death.

“The method is still unknown,” Endri continued, “as it doesn't appear there was any struggle, any sort of forced entry into his chambers, and there are no injuries, either physical or magical.”

Across from me, Aeryn was shaking his head. “There is a traitor within these walls,” he said stiffly, the storm inside him barely contained. “Are the captain and high inquisitor looking amongst the Court for the culprit?”

Endri regarded our father's Sworn Confidant with a cool expression, as if the male's grief did not affect him.

As if he had no grief of his own.

“They are exploring all possibilities, my lord,” Endri said flatly.

Aeryn's face quivered with the force of his restraint, and his lip curled in a snarl. “Are they,” he breathed.

Beside him, my brother's own Sworn Confidant, Cahir, turned slowly in his chair to face him. “Is there someone you'd like to name, Father?” he drawled, and the sound of his voice was like poisoned honey seeping between my bones.

Aeryn seethed, his expression twisted with guilt and grief, while Cahir's expression remained a cool mask of court neutrality.

“Don't you dare test me, boy,” Aeryn growled, eyes flashing. “I've played this game a long time, and I wager you know more than you'd ever dare tell before this Council. So before you ask me for names—”

“You were the king's Sworn Confidant.” Cahir's grin crept wider, showing teeth. “I believe it's your job to know more than anyone else in this room.”

Aeryn's snarl deepened, and for a breathless moment, unfiltered rage flashed in his gray-green eyes. The scent of chrysanthemums and woodsmoke coiled faintly in the air as magic lit across his skin—a bright, involuntary flicker of silver that rolled dangerously across his neck and hands. Something sharp and feral flashed across Cahir's face, and dread dropped heavily into the pit of my stomach.

“Lord Aeryn.” It was Zerian, the silver-haired male seated across the table, that pleaded in a low, careful tone.

Aeryn didn't acknowledge him. He slid his eyes back to Endri, lips quivering against all the words I imagined he wanted to scream—words that were probably not so different from the ones clawing at my own shattered heart.

Endri merely arched a brow in silent challenge.

My father's Sworn Confidant chose not to rise to it. Instead, he stood silently from the table, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. He shot a final look to Cahir—who still grinned with self-satisfied menace—and stormed from the room. The wooden door slammed behind him, and I jumped, my breath catching in my throat.

Cahir's grin slid into a smirk, and he flicked his cold, steel-colored eyes briefly to me. His glance landed like a nick to my skin—quick, sharp, drawing barely enough blood to be noticeable.

But I noticed—the flutter of his lashes as he considered me the way one considers a trophy they've won, the tightening of his lips as he sensed the dread curling inside me.

My jaw tightened, and I steadied myself with a breath.

And then, Cahir's eyes met Endri's. The two of them were unfazed by the uneasy murmurs now rising around the table.

Zerian spoke again, cutting through the tension and redirecting everyone's focus back to the matter at hand. “Lord Aeryn's accusation is quite serious, Your Highness.” His voice was calm and measured, his ice-gray eyes leveled at Endri.

“Indeed it is,” my brother agreed, sounding almost bored. “And if there is a traitor to be found within my court, rest assured, they will be dealt with swiftly, and without mercy.”

As if he knew the meaning of the word.

“But my father was beloved,” Endri continued, and leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. He peered sidelong at me. “Our father,” he amended. “Jorvain and Marro will be hard-pressed to find anyone in our court with any sort of motive or sense of ill-will towards him.” He looked out across the table, before landing his eyes back on Zerian.

Zerian held my brother's stare, and then, in a low voice, replied, “I do hope that's the case.”

The air in the room shifted subtly, and Endri's lips gave a barely perceptible twitch before he said, “As do I.” He stared at Zerian a heartbeat longer. “I'd prefer if you focused on the needs of our mortal allies in Avayr. Let Jorvain and Marro handle the investigation, and you worry about our Enforcers.”

Zerian lifted his chin but said nothing.

Then, with a weary sigh, Endri announced to the entire Council, “We will reconvene tomorrow morning once I've received updates from Captain Jorvain and Lord Marro. We are adjourned.” He rose gracefully to his feet, and the rest of the Council members followed suit, their movements weighted with the grief Endri's lacked.

My body was stiff as I pushed to my feet and watched the Councilors take their leave with briefly bowed heads. Araneya brushed a hand over my shoulder as she passed, giving it a gentle squeeze.

And then there was only me, Endri, and Cahir—who was only now rising to his feet.

I dared a glance at him, and he leered openly at me.

“Such a pleasant surprise to have you join us, Princess,” he crooned, leaning to brace himself against the table with his fists, head angled slightly.

A shudder rippled through the ache in my heart, and I glared. Without a word, I turned to leave the room.

And was stopped by Endri's grip on my upper arm, yanking me back toward the table. His magic pulsed through me, searing and sharp and smelling of sun-baked earth. I gasped, and his fingers dug in harder, bruising me.

“Why did you come?” Endri spat, his face inches from mine.

I winced—against the pain of his tightening grip, against the venom in his words.

“I have the right to be here,” I repeated, hating the tremor in my voice. I attempted to twist free of his grip, and he yanked me again, sending shooting pain spiking through my shoulder. Beside him, Cahir gave a low chuckle.

“You have no rights,” Endri gritted out.

“I—”

“I do not care what protocol dictates,” he interrupted me. “You no longer have our father to hide behind and shield you from the realities of the Court.”

My heart sank. The truth of his words bit as sharp as blades between my ribs.

“Don't you ever undermine me in front of my Council again. Do you understand me?”

I attempted once more—and failed—to shake his grip from my arm. He pulled me towards him until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Do you understand me?” His dark eyes bored into me, full of malice and loathing. Finally, with tears in my eyes, I nodded, and he shoved me away.

Endri straightened his midnight blue tunic with a sharp tug, then shot a look to Cahir and headed for the door, pausing at the threshold.

Cahir moved with unhurried steps around the table, and came to a stop before me. I leaned away from him with a whimper, and a single tear glided down my cheek as he brushed a gentle hand down my throbbing arm. His fingers ghosted back up my sleeve, then gave a subtle press into the place Endri had grabbed. I gasped in pain, and his lips tugged up into a grin.

Without a word, he turned away from me, and followed Endri out of the room.