The proprietor was a large, bearded man wearing a green silk turban, loose pants, and a jacket in the Brandorian style. Tristan dropped a few coins in his hand; he grinned as he counted the gold, revealing his hideously rotting, tobacco-stained teeth. He pointed to a garish pile of cushions in the corner of the room where a hooded person was sitting, waiting for us.
I held Tristan’s arm and kept my voice low. “Are you sure about this? We can’t afford to let anyone know we are here. Who is this informant we’re meeting?”
Tristan looked down at my hand on his arm as if it were a leech. “You didn’t have to come,” he said, stopping abruptly to face me, pulling his arm away. “Go home. Or better still, go to your Prince Rafael. Go anywhere, I really don’t care.”
I ground my teeth together, but I didn’t want to start a fight with Tristan in the middle of this hellhole, so I kept quiet as I followed him to the corner of the room.
Tristan hardly spoke to me anymore. All the progress we had made was shattered that night when he saw how I looked at Rafe. He had become cold and distant, like he was when I first met him. Our betrothal was forced upon us, and Tristan was bound by his oath to comply. I didn’t have a choice but to deal with the fact that what was done was done—we could not break a royal contract without a good reason, or the fae would think I was rejecting them. Queens rarely had the option of love in marriage; it was all royal contracts and planned negotiations. Why should I think my life would be different? War was coming, and I needed the fae army’s loyalty through this betrothal if I was going to take back my father’s kingdom from Morgana.
We sat down on the cushions beside the stranger: a woman, but there was something strange about her. I reached out with my magic and wove it around her probingly. The woman’s features changed as I broke apart the glamour that shrouded her real visage.
Her azure eyes twinkled as they revealed themselves to me. “You are getting good at this.”
“Penelope!” I gasped as I looked around the room for any other High Fae she might have brought with her. But through the haze of smoke and frolicking bodies, I didn’t see anyone I knew.
Tristan’s frown deepened. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t worry, I came alone,” Penelope answered softly.
“How did you find us?” It was a stupid question, but I had to ask. I thought we had been quite careful. Obviously not careful enough.
Penelope shrugged. “It wasn’t easy, but I do have my sources. I knew you would be tracking Andromeda and the book. The trail led me to Nedora, and after that it wasn’t hard to find the two of you. You have been asking about the High Fae in a city of thieves and pirates. And if I managed to find you, the Drakaar won’t be far behind.”
“Let them come,” I said, flexing my fingers. “I am not afraid of them anymore.” Ever since I discovered my true powers as the Dawnstar and Illaria Lightbringer’s heir, the fears that had plagued me earlier seemed to diminish in intensity.
“Well, you should be,” said Penelope sternly. She kept her hood on as we conversed, but moved closer and lowered her voice a notch. “You would do well to remember that you are not yet immortal and can still be killed. Your magic may be strong, but there is so much you still don’t know. It is dangerous for you to be out here unprotected when the world is falling to pieces. Izadora just wants to help.”
“I thought I made it clear that I don’t want to see my grandmother. I refuse to be manipulated by her anymore. I am not going back to Elfi.”
“I understand, Aurora,” said Penelope. “Believe me, I know what Izadora is like and how she has to have things her own way. What she did was unforgivable. But you will need her support for the battles to come.”
“She cannot force me to do anything now,” I said, straightening. “After everything I did to help the fae, this is the thanks I get? I made sure she stayed on her throne, even though the Elder Council wanted to remove her and crown me instead. She knew how much Rafe meant to me and she didn’t care.”
“She does care, Aurora,” said Penelope, softening her tone. “But the fact remains: she is still the ruler of Elfi and the only one who can keep the Elder Council in check. If you remove Izadora from the throne, there will be chaos in Elfi, the noble families will fight among themselves for power, and civil war will ensue. The generals will not go against her. If you do not do as she asks, Izadora will not send the fae army to help you regain Illiador.”
My mouth dropped open. “She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t go back on her word.”
Tristan’s eyes blazed. “Don’t be naïve, Aurora. Of course she would. It’s what she does. And what makes her such an effective ruler.”
It was irritating as hell, but he was right. I relented. “What does she want?”
Penelope’s face softened. “At least speak to her.”
I shook my head. “I will not go back to Elfi.”
“You don’t have to,” said Penelope, getting up from the table. “Come with me and I will show you.”
We left the “teahouse,” and I took in a breath of hot, humid air. Anything was better than the sickening smell of sweaty unwashed bodies heavily doused in strong perfume, mixed with the heady scent of opium smoke.
The desert sky was clear. Stars twinkled like a crowd of fireflies in a stately dance as Penelope took us to a two-story sandstone structure with a flat roof, the inn where she had been staying. The arched doorway led to
