That’s the problem.
I never want it to stop hurting.
Pain means life. Pain is an end to the nothingness. Pain is a reminder that I’m still here. I’m still me. And sometimes, it’s the only way to remind myself.
Edain sees it in my face. “I might be your mother’s fucktoy, but I’m not about to become her daughter’s toy too.” He crosses to the window and twitches the curtains aside, staring out into the night. The distant fires highlight the stark lines of his face. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Game?”
Edain allows the curtain to fall, and somehow it makes the room feel smaller. “You may have fooled the rest of the court, but you don’t fool me.” He turns around, his expression dark. “Your mother is beyond furious. I’ve spent all evening trying to talk her out of marching into Evernight with every warrior she can get her hands on. She’s still fucking sobbing in the ashes of that tree.”
My lashes lower. “A regrettable mistake. The prince of Evernight chose his target well.”
“You and I both know the prince never went anywhere near that tree.”
It’s a dangerous accusation.
And I’ve never entirely known how much I can trust him.
Edain’s father married my mother and then died in a hunting “accident” several years later. By the end of the week, Edain was in my mother’s bed, and he’s been there ever since.
“The gift of fire runs in your mother’s line,” he continues, his eyes glittering with an expression I can’t quite name, “but your sister’s never been able to master it the way you have. And the way that tree lit up, as though someone had packed it with explosive powder, makes me think magic was involved. So if it wasn’t your sister, and it certainly wasn’t your mother, then….”
“Are you trying to suggest I had something to do with it?” I load my voice with every ounce of haughtiness I can find, and this time, I hop off the bench and step toward him. “Do you hear yourself? I am the Crown Princess of Asturia. I am my mother’s heir. And I have always been loyal to her. If you ever suggest such a betrayal by my hand, then I will be sure to—”
“What?” He doesn’t back away. “Are you going to murder my father? Are you going to force me into your bed? Threaten to cut my throat if I don’t behave?” The muscle in his throat bobs, and he captures my jaw in a merciless grip. “Do you know, right now, you look exactly like your mother’s heir. Every inch of you.”
I tear my face away. “Don’t you ever touch me.”
“Again,” he says softly.
“Ever.”
His hand tenses into a fist, but he paces away from me before spinning on his heel.
We stare at each other, like enemies daring the other to cross the undrawn line between us.
“Have a care,” he finally murmurs. “Your mother is right on the edge. It seems someone stole her crown as well as setting her favorite tree on fire. She wants to burn things.”
“Then I guess you had best prepare for a long night ahead.”
Oh, that makes him angry.
“And there you are again.” He shakes his head and turns for the door. “For a second, I almost thought you were something more than your mother’s clone.”
It’s only once the door slams behind him that I find I can breathe again.
And I feel sick to my stomach, because as I lift my eyes to the mirror, I see exactly what he sees.
My mother’s daughter.
Eaten hollow from the inside out.
“One thing,” I whisper to myself. “You did one thing right.”
It’s not enough to balance the scales. It never will be.
But at least my sister has the crown she needs to save her daughter.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Iskvien
We land in a Hallow in the snow, and Thiago freezes, his head cocked as if he’s listening. Baylor and Eris fan out, swords held low, and Finn nocks an arrow loosely, prepared to draw on a second’s notice.
I don’t care if there’s danger here.
My daughter is here.
And if anything gets between us, I will destroy it.
“Snow,” Thalia growls under her breath, taking a step and sinking up to her boots. “Why does it always have to be snow?”
“Quiet,” Baylor mutters.
She rolls her eyes. “Did you think I didn’t ward us all the second we arrived? If there’s anything out there, they won’t see or hear us. All they’ll see will be mysterious footprints appearing in the snow.”
The last time we were in unseelie, Thiago said he didn’t dare use his power here, and it’s furled up tight and small within him, just in case there’s another darkyn nearby.
My heart skips a beat as he and Eris share a look.
“Nothing,” Eris finally says. “I can barely even hear the heartbeat of a pair of birds.”
“The wards on Old Mother Hibbert’s cottage are so old, they were crafted by the otherkin,” Thiago murmurs. “You won’t smell the children. You won’t be able to hear them. Not even a heartbeat. She puts a spell on all her children, so they’ll always be able to find their way back to the cottage, even on the darkest night.” He turns to the south, peering intently into the forest. “It’s this way.”
“Even after all this time?” I ask as I follow him.
Thiago slogs through the snow, cutting a trail for me. “It’s not a sound or something I can see. It’s the call of the hearth. A beating drum in my heart that says, ‘Home, home, home.’ A feeling more than anything. And yes, even after all these years.”
Eris frowns as she falls into step beside me. “There aren’t any animals nearby,” she says in a troubled voice.
“The cottage spells tell predators to move on,” Thiago explains. “They won’t know why, but they’ll simply feel the urge to be elsewhere.”
“Not even any birds, Thiago,” she points out. “There are no mice squeaking beneath the snow, no owls fluffing their feathers in the trees. The world is simply
