“Mistmark is marrying Malechus’s cousin? They must have made a deal.”
“I keep thinking the same thing, but why would the Lord of Mistmark give up the horn in exchange for a princess? There are dozens of them if he wants one.” Keir arches a dubious brow. “There’s an entire court between his lands and the Court of Blood. To wage war, Malechus would need to convince Prince Angmar of the Court of Storms to allow him to cross his kingdom with an army. There’s no love lost between the Court of Blood and the Court of Storms. And the Lord of Mistmark has enough power to ward off a blood curse.”
“Who knows? Maybe Mistmark is a coward?”
“Alaric is many things, but he’s not a coward.”
Alaric. “You know him?”
“I know all of them,” Keir replies. “Alaric plays the game and deeply. If he’s marrying sweet Belladonna, then there’s a reason for it. And that’s where my trail vanishes.” His gaze holds mine hostage. “I need someone to enter the Blood Court and discover if the Lord of Mistmark truly has the horn and if he’s promised it to Malechus as a bridal tithe.”
Oh no.
No Blood Courts for me.
Soraya disappeared from there.
I close my eyes, trying to harden my heart against the little piece of me I haven’t managed to kill.
Soraya can handle herself. She left you to the Prince of Dreams’ mercy, after all. She wouldn’t come looking for you.
The problem is, I’m not entirely convinced of that.
You can spend an entire lifetime threatening to murder your sister, but if anyone else dares try and touch them….
Still… how do I even escape the Abyss? I can’t. I’ve tried. And Father will never let me go.
If he even suspected the Prince of Dreams owned some part of my loyalty….
“I’m sure if you attended, they’d let you in,” I point out. “You are the Prince of Dreams, after all. Powerful, mysterious, handsome, and… a bachelor who’s recently made it clear he’s searching for a bride. They’ll roll out a red carpet of welcome and fling a dozen nubile virgins in your direction.”
His smile holds teeth, as if to say I am a very good dragon, and I’m not trying to put your back against the wall at all. “Oh, I can get in. But I’d be watched. I haven’t left my court in three centuries. If I attend that wedding then all eyes will be on me.”
“Take a spy. I’m sure you have dozens.”
“This is the Horn of Shadows, Merisel. I want the best. I want you.” He holds up his arm, his sleeves falling around his elbow. Little golden marks flare to life on his skin, and I gasp as I feel mine answer his magic. “You very nearly stole my most powerful asset—my heart—and I didn’t even suspect you until it was too late. You’re good.”
I am good.
But I’m not going to fall for that little bit of flattery.
“It’s a pretty story,” I point out, “but unless you force me, I’m not going anywhere near the Court of Blood and this mythical horn. Sorry, but I’d rather let you torture me than dare fall into Malechus’s hands.”
Something tells me Keir’s punishment would be eminently less painful than having every ounce of blood wrung out of me by the Prince of Knives.
Keir stares at me, drumming his fingers on the table. It’s a test. He could do it if he wishes. He’s marked me and until the end of the year and a day, I must obey him.
But to do so means he must force me to his will.
Hot flame licks at his irises and then it’s swiftly smothered. Reaching inside his shirt, he tosses something on the table in front of me.
It’s a locket.
Ancient silver, heavily pockmarked with use. A crescent moon linked by a trio of stars. Barely worth a handful of groats, but valuable all the same—because the last time I saw that locket, it was hanging around my sister’s neck.
The breath slams out of me. “Where did you get this?”
“I told you I have my sources.”
I snatch the locket into my palm. Soraya would never lose this or leave it behind. It belonged to her mother and was all she had of her when she was stolen from her people and brought to the training camps. Sometimes I’d find her sitting on the top of the tallest tower of the wraith court, staring at the moon and rubbing the locket between thumb and forefinger.
I don’t have a locket.
I don’t have anything of my mother’s except for her pale blue eyes and silvery hair, my father once snarled.
And if I did, then I would kill anyone who dared touch it.
“How did you get this?”
“It was sent to me by the man I hired to track her down.” Keir continues, pouring himself a goblet of wine and then filling my glass. “You think she’s up to something, don’t you? You think her disappearing act is merely a ploy of hers… but I’m not so sure, Merisel. I think your sister is in trouble. And as much as you don’t care about the horn, you do care about your sister, don’t you?”
You son of a—
Stars suddenly ricochet through my vision.
It’s enough to make me blink.
What was that?
“Merisel?” Keir growls. “I asked you a question.”
“Cauldron’s piss,” a voice hisses. “Turn her over. Quick! The king has sent for her and we can’t deliver a corpse to him! He’ll have our lungs torn out through our nostrils.”
“My name is not… Merisel.”
I stagger out of the chair, trying to grab hold of the balcony. The whole world begins to reel around me.
“Then what is it?” Keir demands. “What’s wrong?”
“Zemira,” I whisper, staring down at my hands. “My name is Zemira.”
My fingers vanish.
It’s as if I’m evaporating into thin air.
“Zemira!” Keir shoves to his feet, reaching for my hand,
