A slight narrowing of his merciless blue eyes. He lasts twenty seconds. “What did she say about the situation?”
“Oh, it’s a ‘situation’ now, is it?” I set my cup down with a smile. “My sister doesn’t say much at all. Which is more telling than anything she might actually mention. But I’ll trade you an answer for an answer.”
“What sort of answer?” His curiosity is definitely winning now.
“An answer to whatever sort of question you would like to ask. And likewise.”
“Don’t,” Falion warns him.
But Mistmark smiles. “Fine. I’ll play. But I’m going first…. And I will have the truth from you, little wraith.”
“I will answer as truthfully as I may.”
He sinks back onto the sofa, considering his cup. “Your sister has tried to kill me thrice now. The first two times she failed. Badly. But today, she would have succeeded. I was poisoned, and there was nothing Falion could do to try and save me.” He leans forward. “But she saved me. She poisoned me and then she gave me the antidote. Why?”
Because I’m fairly certain she’s half in love with you…. “Belladonna had cursed me. She wanted the marriage to fail, and unless I killed you before today was done, I was going to die.” I tell him about our little heist. “You were the perfect distraction, but if there’s one thing we are ever taught, it’s not to let the situation get too messy. If you’d died, it was quite clear Falion would be intent upon exacting his revenge, and we already had Malechus and Belladonna to worry about.”
“Not to mention the Crown Prince of the Forbidden Court,” Falion mutters.
“I wasn’t entirely certain Ruhle was in play,” I say with a shrug. “I also had no particular desire to see you dead. I just needed Belladonna to think you were.”
He seems slightly disappointed with the response.
“But that is me,” I add gently. “If my sister wanted you dead, then you would be dead.” And then, because I’ve always been a romantic at heart, I add, “Three years ago, my sister was sent to kill you. I have to presume it’s because my father knew you had the horn and wanted it. I don’t know why she didn’t kill you. I don’t know how she failed, or what occurred between you, but I do know this.” My voice hardens. “My father doesn’t tolerate failure. You get one chance, and your punishment is severe. When my sister returned home from your court, she knelt before him and told him she’d failed. Just that. She gave no explanation. She gave no excuses. She did not beg for mercy. And so he locked her away in a windowless, lightless, frigid cell for four months. She was given just enough food and water to survive at irregular intervals. No one spoke to her. No one touched her. She had not a single blanket with her, and she’s terrified of the dark.
“But she accepted that punishment without a single complaint.” I sip from my tea, cooling now. “It always surprised me, because Soraya is selfish and argumentative. I’ve never seen her deal before Father like that before. But then… sometimes I’d wonder if she did it because she was trying to protect someone else—someone she needed to convince Father not to kill.”
There’s trouble in his eyes, and I don’t think he knows what to believe. But there’s also something thoughtful there too. “She’s afraid of the dark?”
It’s not the concept I would have thought him to focus upon. I shrug. “I was born within my father’s court, but Soraya was not. Her mother managed to escape him when she was heavily pregnant, and she spent five years in hiding, before his wraithen scouts finally tracked them down. They killed Sora’s mother right in front of her and locked her in a chest for weeks on end until they’d smuggled her back into our lands.” It’s not my story to tell, but…. “She suffers from nightmares sometimes. Her entire life changed in a single day, and while she forged armor around her heart and grew calluses on her soul, she still prefers to have a light burning in the night.”
Mistmark considers my words. And then he nods. “More than what I asked, and I’m grateful for it. I will try to reply in kind.”
“There have been a few questions plaguing me about this entire situation. At first I wondered why you agreed to marry Belladonna, but it soon became clear Malechus was blackmailing you. He wanted the horn, and he forced you into a corner in which you would marry his cousin and yield it to him as a bridal tithe.” It’s the one question that’s always bothered me. “Why? What was he holding over your head?”
Mistmark sighs. “Your sister.”
So far my theory is correct. Ruhle must have approached the prince in order to set this entire thing up—but I don’t know what Malechus thought he’d gain from the arrangement. The horn, clearly, but what did he intend to do with my brother when Ruhle came for it?
“You know what Soraya is.”
“I do.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
Mistmark strokes his thumb over his cup. “I’m the guardian of Mistmark, and the castle is a repository of information. While I wasn’t yet born when the Court of Shadows was cursed, I’ve read everything about it that I could get my hands on.”
Was that before or after you met my sister? “My father believes the curse can be broken.”
Falion pauses at that, his mouth thinning.
But Mistmark stays him with a hand. “It’s possible, yes. You would need an enormous amount of power to do so.”
“How much power?” It’s something I’ve given thought to several times of late. “My father believes it would require something like the cauldron. Or a dragon’s heart.”
Mistmark chews on his nail. “Both would definitely break the spell.” He looks a little pained. “Both could tear apart the world while you’re at it. You speak of taking a war hammer and using it to
