Mickey kept his face impassive, but a storm brewed behind those eyes. And all I could do was dig my nails into the palms of my hands, because no one was going to tell me anything. I was walking into this investiture blindfolded, clinging to the belief that things weren’t as life-or-death as Caleb made them out to be. That whoever it was that had talked to him was indirectly trying to manipulate me, to mislead Caleb into unintentionally lying for them.
“Children,” Edon said, shaking his head. “Back to the subject at hand. We did hope for a fae heir as powerful as her parents. And yes, we wanted to disrupt the investiture so she’d have a chance. But since that avenue appears closed, I do not want a bloodbath on my hands once the queen retakes power.”
Briana nodded as if everything Edon said made sense. “You are hoping to save your people with positioning yourself as consort. Admirable, but perhaps naïve.”
Edon shrugged. “Between a corrupt council willing to start a bloodbath if we kill the heir to end the investiture and a psychotic queen and council willing to massacre us for disloyalty, my options are limited.”
Psychotic queen? Great. Maybe Caleb wasn’t too far off after all. Although, why was Edon convinced I’d want to murder all the rebels after I was crowned?
Questions swarmed through my mind like a knocked over wasp nest. Would I discover that the rebels deserved to die? Exactly who had I just decided to marry? What had he done that would make me want to kill him when I became queen?
“I think we have heard enough,” Aaron said, rising from his chair. “I refuse sit here while he insults us.”
Edon smirked. “Then by all means, stand while I insult you.”
Aaron glared at Edon. “You are the most—”
“In the interest of keeping the girl alive,” Edon continued, “and so none of my more desperate fae get themselves in trouble by attempting to kill Kella again, I suggest we move up the investiture.”
“Hold on a second,” I said, my voice rising as panic engulfed me. This was moving too fast, and I needed answers. But what was I going to say? Let’s delay and risk more assassination attempts? The memory of Bridgette gutting the rebel girl right in front of me had me clamping my mouth shut. Not that Briana had noticed. She hadn’t even bothered looking my way.
Instead, she made eye contact with the rest of the council. “A practical suggestion.”
Aaron shrugged while Maeve nodded slowly. Mickey, though—his jaw clenched in anger—refused to look at Briana. At least Mickey thought this was bull too.
“Well, it’s nice we can agree on that at least. You are all dismissed now.”
There was an awkward silence before Mickey chuckled. “Acting the part of consort a little prematurely, aren’t you?” he said, standing along with the rest of the council.
Edon shrugged.
Aaron, though, wasn’t amused. “Your rudeness and lack of respect knows no bounds,” Aaron said, passing Edon on his way to the door.
“Bounds are for the queen’s fae. Remember, whistle means ‘heal.’”
Aaron stilled, his deep brown eyes narrowing into tiny slits, his fists balling together.
Briana touched his elbow. “Not now,” she murmured.
“We’ll see how disrespectful you remain after the investiture, consort,” Aaron snapped.
Edon rolled his eyes. “Please. The queen likes me this way.”
Briana shook her head and left alongside Maeve and Aaron. But just as Mickey was about to follow, Edon snagged his elbow and pulled him back into the council room before closing the door.
With just the three of us in the room, it was hard to ignore what I had admitted—that I found Edon…attractive. So instead, I glared at Edon, deciding to clear the air and make sure we were on the same page. “For the record, I don’t like you.”
“What?” asked Mickey.
“I don’t like Edon,” I repeated, turning to look Edon in the eye. “If you’re gonna call me a witch, I figured I’d share my feelings, too. You’re an ass.”
Edon cracked a smile. “I wasn’t talking about you, heir. But if your mind manages to stay intact after investiture, I’m sure everyone will be falling over themselves to care about whether you think they’re an ass. Until then, you’re simply a little girl about to become somebody’s puppet and they,” —he jabbed his thumb toward the door Maeve and the other council members left through— “are just fine with that.”
“What is he talking about?” My voice raised an octave.
Mickey looked at Edon and shook his head.
Edon sighed. “Bound, huh? Not a big surprise. Guess that leaves it to me to break the bad news.” He turned the full intensity of his gaze on me. “What do you think the investiture is, Kella? Some sort of magical power transfer that makes you queen? That’s the story they’ve been spinning to you, isn’t it?”
I didn’t say anything. He was right.
“Well, allow me to fill in the many holes in that story.” Edon’s eyes grew darker as he leaned against the conference table, crossing his arms.
“Our saga begins with a powerful, narcissistic fae queen who didn’t want to die. So what’d she do? She turned the investiture’s power transfer into her own personal resurrection party.”
Mickey winced. My eyes widened. “You mean she comes back from the dead?”
“After a manner of speaking.” He shifted, the heels of his palms resting on the table behind him. “She threaded her soul into the investiture staff. When her heirs touch it as part of the investiture ceremony, they still get the outpouring of power. But now it comes with a catch: her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Kella, she wrapped herself so tightly in the power of the fae queens that she uses it to take control of her heirs. She possesses them—uses their bodies as a vehicle for her soul.”
“Wh-what happens to the heirs?”
“Oh, well.” Edon leaned back into the table, arms crossed once more. “They’re still there—trapped in their own minds and powerless to do anything about it.”
I tried to talk, but my mouth
