You never forget that.
I needed her with a desperation that went soul-deep, and I’d thought she needed me too. And then our final trials began and she left me behind because I was injured—and if neither of us crossed the finish line in time, then we would both die.
She chose herself over me.
And there’s a part of me—the part that was raised in the wraithen court, where mercy only ever cost you—that understands that.
There’s also a part that bleeds, because we were supposed to be more than that. We were supposed to be better than the rest of them. Instead, she only proved my father’s point.
I have no family.
The only one I can rely upon is myself.
But still….
“What do you mean?” My voice roughens as I smooth the paper out. “Where is Soraya? What did you do?”
“Me? Nothing.”
It’s difficult to believe. “She did try to kill you.”
“She’s not the first,” Keir replies with a shrug. “And she won’t be the last. No. I had nothing to do with her disappearance.”
“Disappearance?” This time my gaze snaps to his.
“Curiously enough,” he continues, “it was how I discovered the existence of the horn. Your sister wasn’t in the forefront of my mind until one of my spies happened to chance across her. Or her description, rather. I plucked his memories from his dreams and imagine my shock when I saw her face.”
“The horn? What does the horn have to do with—”
“Your sister was in a position to find it and considering your interest in certain relics—” His fingers brush against the bare skin around his throat. “—I found it interesting that she just happened to be using a false name in a place that is abuzz with news of the horn. When my spy moved to apprehend her, she was gone. And in unusual circumstances. She simply disappeared. Her room was in disarray, and there were spatters of blood on her pillow.”
The warmth drains out of my face. Blood. I suck in a sharp breath, but then my mind starts racing. Soraya doesn’t lose. She’s one of the most dangerous assassins in the Blessed kingdoms. If there’s blood in her rooms and she’s vanished, then there’s a reason for it and it’s not because someone has buried her in the forest somewhere.
What would my father want with the horn? Because if Soraya is using a false name, then she has to be there on his orders.
The cauldron.
Power.
It was reputed to hold the might of the dragon kings. It could break the curse that shackles all of the Forbidden into their wraithbound shapes, and what my father desires most of all is to break the curse on his people.
“Where?” I breathe.
“I thought you weren’t interested.” The lazy gleam in his eyes holds a dangerous smile.
The prick.
I bite down on my frustration. “Maybe I can be convinced.”
“I thought you might be,” he purrs. “She was at the Court of Blood.”
“The Court of Blood?”
It’s one of the most dangerous of the Blessed courts. The only other court that might come close is the Court of Frost and Fangs.
What was Soraya doing at the Court of Blood?
How does it factor into the location of the horn?
Keir must see my confusion. “Three years ago, the crown prince of the Blood Court funded a private group of treasure hunters who began digging into a dragon king’s private hoard in the Frostfangs. Malechus thinks nobody knows about it. He is wrong. According to one of my sources, the group found something but apparently all died of a blood-hungry curse. The last survivor was found rambling in a tavern about how the dragon’s cave was haunted.”
Haunted treasure trove. Blood-hungry curse. Crown Prince of the Blood Court.
I watch as Keir bites into a fig, his sharp teeth cutting cleanly through the goat’s cheese. It’s far too distracting. “Strange. I thought curses like that were almost the sole province of the Court of Blood’s royal family. Not ghosts.”
Keir flashes me a smile.
“They found something in the dragon king’s hoard.” My mind starts chasing down thoughts. It’s always been my curse. “Malechus wanted to keep it quiet.”
“Oh, it’s far more interesting than that,” Keir says, licking at his fingers. “Malechus wanted to get his hands on it. It seems the lead treasure hunter realized exactly what he’d found and wanted to make more money than what Malechus was offering. He ran with the treasure.”
“More fool him.” There are certain fae princes I might consider stealing from—Malechus is not one of them. Not even for all the souls around my father’s neck. “You can’t spend coin in the Shadow Lands. So Malechus has the horn.”
“Uncertain. The last treasure hunter was traveling through the lands of Mistmark when he died. He thrust an object into a serving girl’s hands and begged her to bury it. He choked to death on his own blood that night, and the girl vanished.”
That changes everything.
Three years ago…. I can’t help thinking that my sister was sent to assassinate the Lord of Mistmark roughly about the same time. My father never did say why.
And it’s one of Soraya’s only failures. She never breathed a word about it, but…. A mystical relic crosses the Lord of Mistmark’s lands, where it’s passed into a servant girl’s hands.... And my father—hungrily searching for the power to break an ancient curse—sends his finest assassin to kill the Lord of Mistmark.
“Mistmark has the horn,” I breathe.
“Interestingly enough, the Lord of Mistmark is now betrothed to a princess of
