“Tristan knows he must do as I say,” said Izadora, a dangerous smile creeping across her face. “If he doesn’t, I will strip him of his title as Prince of the Night Court and exile him from Elfi forever.”
Tristan’s eyes blazed, but he didn’t refute what she said.
“If he chooses not to come with me, you can’t take away his title,” I argued. I wanted him to come with me, but not at this cost. “He is the only heir to the Night Court throne. The Grand Duke Kildaren will never accept it.”
“Kildaren will accept it if he finds out he has another son.” She threw a glance at the dowager duchess and gave Tristan a malicious grin. “Isn’t that so, Rhiannon?”
Tristan’s grandmother’s face tightened, but she nodded all the same.
“What do you mean, Izadora?” Tristan took a step toward the mirror. “Is this another one of your tricks?”
“If you don’t believe me, ask Penelope,” the fae queen said with a sharp glance at her sister.
Tristan and I turned toward her. “Penelope, is this true?”
“This was not the time to bring it up.” Penelope’s blue eyes flashed with anger. But she nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid she speaks the truth.”
The queen of the fae shimmered in the mirror. “Take my advice and do as I say, Tristan, or there will be consequences.”
I knew without my grandmother’s help I wouldn’t get far, even with the powers I now possessed. “But what about my mother and the Dark Dagger?”
“All in good time,” said the queen of the fae.
I weighed the options, and as much as I hated to admit it, she was right. My grandmother was a master strategist, and if I wanted to win back my kingdom, I should start listening to her, even though I didn’t want to. My every instinct cried out to go straight to Rafe, but running off into enemy territory on my own wasn’t an option. However much I wanted to follow my heart and run back to Rafe and my granduncle to help them, I had finally realized I had a much greater purpose beyond my own happiness.
The mirror shimmered again, and Izadora and the Crystal Castle disappeared.
I turned to Penelope, my mind a beehive of possibilities. “What did she mean when she said Kildaren had another son? Who is he?”
Tristan’s jaw was tense, and he stood unmoving as Penelope sat down on a nearby chair.
“Kildaren and I knew each other when we were young. He was my first love.” She glanced quickly at Tristan and the corner of her lips pulled up with the hint of a smile. “My sister was already queen; she refused the match, and we needed her consent for the wedding. At the time she had her heart set on an alliance with the Day Court, so Kildaren ended up marrying Selene instead. But after Tristan’s mother passed away, Kildaren came to me professing his love. Out of respect for Selene’s memory and for Tristan, we thought it would be better to wait for a while before we married. Especially after the tragic way her life ended. So we kept it a secret.”
“Thank you,” said Tristan, his twilight-blue eyes shimmering.
Penelope shook her head. “It was the right thing to do.”
I thought back to the story Skye had told me about Tristan’s mother and the brutality of the mage soldiers who murdered her. My heart constricted for the sorrow and pain Tristan must have felt when he found his mother’s remains. The mages still whispered about him—the Dark Prince of the Night Court, an unforgiving fae-warrior who destroyed a whole garrison of mages and burned their fortress to the ground. But I knew why he’d done it, and I couldn’t say I blamed him.
“What happened between you two? Why did he hate you so much when you came back?”
Penelope looked out at the moonlit street beyond the window, her gaze far away. “When Izadora decided to send me to Illiador to look for you and gather information on Morgana, I could not refuse. She was distraught after having lost her only child, and she was certain that Elayna’s daughter was alive somewhere. She felt the magic of the portal that sent you to the other world. I was forbidden from telling anyone where I was going.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell Kildaren you were leaving? I’m sure he would have understood.”
“I had no choice,” Penelope snapped, turning back to me. “Izadora warned me not to tell anyone. But I loved Kildaren, and I couldn’t leave without seeing him one last time. I went to him the night before I left so we could be together just once.” A single tear slid down her cheek. She hurriedly brushed it away and said softly, “It was only once.”
My eyes widened, understanding dawning. “Kalen is Kildaren’s son! Isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Penelope nodded, looking at the fae prince who stood beside me, expressionless. “Kalen is the son of the Grand Duke of the Night Court and Tristan’s half brother.”
A City of Slaves and Thieves
“I have a brother?” Tristan said finally.
Penelope nodded. “A half brother, yes.”
Now that I thought about it, they did look similar, but I had never made the connection because of Kalen’s silvery blond hair, so much like his mother’s. But his chin and the shape of his face were similar to Tristan’s—a lighter, younger version of his darkness.
“I have tried to keep him safe,” said Penelope, wringing her hands together. “He doesn’t know about his real heritage or the powers that he may come to possess.”
“You have no idea.” Tristan gave Penelope a dark look as shadows seemed to form around him. “He must be trained properly, or he will become a risk to himself and others.”
Penelope nodded. “He is still young, and
