We came to a little clearing, where the morning sun danced and played on the surface of a pond. Wildflowers grew in patches near the water, and Rafe sat me down on a large, moss-covered stone overlooking the gleaming pool. I dipped my cut and bleeding feet in the cool water and sighed as it immediately relieved the stinging pain. I washed my hands and bruised face, feeling a little better.
Rafe sat on a similar rock near me, took off his mask, and ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair. I didn’t want to stare, so I pretended to wash my feet and peeked at him from under my eyelashes.
I knew he was handsome even with the mask on, but without it he looked younger than I imagined. He seemed not that much older than myself, maybe three or four years. He smiled at me, and I shifted uncomfortably on the rock. Somehow he made me feel like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I flushed, straightening. “Even if you don’t believe me, you do know why this queen wants to see me?
Rafe nodded. “If you really are Aurora Firedrake, Morgana will stop at nothing to get to you.”
My eyes widened. “Why?”
“Shhh.” He put his finger to his lips.
I immediately shut up and looked around. I could see nothing, but I could hear a faint rustling in the bushes, and I turned toward it. Rafe already had his sword out and moved slowly in front of me.
After a few moments of frantic rustling, the foliage in front of us parted, and a disheveled Kalen appeared in the clearing. “There you are.” He brushed off the leaves from his shirt, completely oblivious to the fact that Rafe had nearly run him through with sharp steel. “I don’t know why you made this the meeting place, it’s nearly impossible to find.”
Rafe’s lips turned up in amusement as he put away his sword. “That’s the whole point, Kalen.”
My fae friend came and sat down next to me. “Have you figured out a way for you to get back to wherever your home is, my lady?”
I shook my head. “No, not exactly.” I shot a glance at Rafe, who was now leaning against a tree with his arms crossed in front of him, watching me. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
“Kalen,” said Rafe, “can you keep a secret? We are going to need your help.”
Kalen nodded his head vigorously. “Of course I can.”
Rafe rolled his eyes, but he quickly related my story to Kalen, whose eyes went wide at the mention of the name Firedrake. He listened quietly, which seemed like a first for him.
“Do you think it’s even possible?” Kalen asked incredulously. “Aurora Firedrake died years ago.”
“I don’t know,” said Rafe, rubbing his chin. “But Silverthorne will be able to tell us for sure. If she really is who she says she is, then she isn’t safe here in Illiador. We must get her over the border to Eldoren immediately.”
Dread slithered down my spine. “Why won’t I be safe here?”
“Because if Morgana or Lucian find you, they will kill you,” said Rafe plainly.
I stood up abruptly. “Kill me! Why would they want to kill me? I don’t even know them. And who is Lucian anyway?”
Kalen’s eyes went wide. “You don’t know who Lucian is?”
“Obviously not,” I said, irritated at Kalen’s disbelief. I was the one who had found out that some crazy queen I’d never met wanted to kill me. I should be the one asking the questions.
“Lucian is the Archmage of Illiador, and Queen Morgana’s right-hand man.” Kalen’s voice held a tinge of awe.
“The arch what?” Did he just say archmage?
“The archmage,” repeated Kalen.
Rafe laughed as he pushed himself away from the tree on which he was leaning. “I think she heard you the first time, Kalen.”
Kalen furrowed his brow in confusion.
“If you truly do not know anything about our world, I will try to explain as best I can.” Rafe settled himself beside me. “Morgana calls herself Queen of Illiador, although she is nothing but a deceitful usurper.”
“Whose kingdom did she usurp?”
His gray eyes gleamed intensely and his lips turned up in a half-smile. “Well, if you are telling the truth—yours.”
I held his gaze. Surely he couldn’t have meant what I thought he said . . .
“Your father was the king of Illiador, and you were heir to the throne,” Rafe continued. “But just before your second birthday, Morgana took her chance. She betrayed your father, Azaren, and with the help of Lucian, she killed your family and took the throne of Illiador.”
“How could she do that? Why would she?” My mind flashed back to the recurring dream of the woman called Morgana with the gleaming dagger in her hand.
“She was your father’s half-sister,” said Rafe, a trace of disgust in his voice. “He trusted her.”
“His sister!”
His jaw tightened. “Half-sister,” Rafe specified.
I was appalled. I looked at him wide-eyed, and a wave of panic rushed over me. If what Rafe said was true, and this Morgana was the same one from my dream, then I was in serious trouble. “I don’t want to be heir to anything. Why doesn’t she just leave me alone? I’m not a threat to her.”
“Just knowing you’re alive is a threat to Morgana,” Rafe said, his lips a thin line. “That is why Oblek has been searching for you. She will not rest until all of Azaren’s bloodline has been removed. You are the only obstacle to her complete right to the throne of Illiador.”
My shoulders drooped. He had said that my parents were dead. For so many years I had hoped that my birth parents would come and find me, that they would regret giving me up, and when no one ever came to claim me, I was convinced
