Meet me at the Easternwick ruins to make the trade by sundown and bring your daughter.
Keir
The heat drains out of my face as I lower the letter. “I… don’t understand.”
“Simple,” my father replies, sinking back onto his throne. He snaps his fingers and Ruhle appears from the shadows behind the throne, dragging a young fae woman.
Ruhle throws her at my feet, and Ismena scrambles upright, panting with fright. Her skirts are torn and tattered. “I did everything you asked,” she blurted. “You promised you would let me go if I told you everything.”
I surge to my feet. Ismena. Here? It makes no sense….
Or does it?
Blood slides from my extremities with a clammy touch. My father’s spies are excellent, but not even they can penetrate the Court of Dreams.
If Father wanted to truly know what happened within the court three months ago, then he would have needed an eyewitness.
Ruhle offers me the faintest of smiles—and the edge of his teeth. “I did tell you I wasn’t in exile among the border forts. I was setting up the play.” He drags his gloves off, then captures Ismena’s chin. “My play. This pretty little princess hates you, did you know? She hates you for having what she wants… a prince’s heart—”
“I don’t have his heart.”
“That’s not what she says.” He shoves her aside as if she’s merely collateral damage, and it’s only then that I see the bruises she’s been hiding beneath the silk of her gown.
I wish I’d never met you….
My heart goes still.
I understand what she meant now. If Ruhle got to her….
It doesn’t matter if she hated me. I know how he works. I know who he idolizes. Even if she wanted to tell him everything she knew about me, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d have hurt her. Violated her. Perhaps even worse.
Sorrow fills me as we stare at each other. I don’t blame her.
I don’t blame her for any of this.
No. I know who I have to kill.
Slowly, my gaze lifts to my half brother.
“Is that fury I see in your eyes, Zemira?” Ruhle grabs a fistful of her hair, pressing her face against his thigh as if she’s a dog. Ismena flinches, looking down. “You thought you were in control, didn’t you? But all I was doing was testing a little theory, and it seems I was right.”
“No.” I can see where this is going now. I wasn’t the fucking card in play when I was sent to the Court of Blood; I was the bait. If I managed to capture the horn, then my father would have used it. But now he’s going to make another play, and I can’t let that happen. I lunge forward, but one of the guards yanks me back. Another kicks my feet out from under me, slamming me back to my knees.
And the fucking manacle of light stops me from Sifting.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Ruhle prowls in a small circle around me, his eyes glittering maliciously. “I knew something had occurred when you came back from the Court of Dreams long after your sister returned. I know Keir’s reputation. Regardless of your skills, he wouldn’t have just let you go like that. I wanted to know more…. And so I found this pretty little bird and made it sing.” He wrenches Ismena’s head back with a fistful of her hair, squatting down and setting his face close to hers. Grazing his fingertips against her cheek he smiles when she flinches. “And what a story she told. About a prince who couldn’t take his eyes off our little wraith. About stolen kisses. Dinners alone. About the fury in his expression when you betrayed him. It made me start to wonder…. Did our little thief steal something more precious than a relic when she entered the Court of Dreams?”
“He’s a prince,” I scoff. “He doesn’t like to lose. And if you think he’ll trade me for the horn then you’re quite mistaken.” He wouldn’t dare. Not with the suspicion that Calliope survived the massacre within the Court of Dreams. Not with the cauldron still out there.
“The horn….” His smile is sinister. “You’re always so many steps behind, Zemira. Keir’s in love with you. And he’s going to give us everything we need if he ever wants to see you alive again.”
“You son of a bitch!” I lunge for him again, but one of the guards drives a boot into my ribs.
“How’s your sister?” Ruhle mocks as he paces around me where I lie gasping on the floor.
I try to suck in a breath, try to stop the pain. Something’s broken, I think, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t fight my way out of here. I need to be smart. They’ll know Soraya’s alive—Father will be able to see her soul writhing within its trap—but I’m not about to volunteer any information on Soraya’s whereabouts.
What I do know is that she isn’t here.
She’s with Keir. With Mistmark and Falion. Maybe I’m not entirely reliant upon the mercy of wolves.
“Soraya’s probably imagining a target right in the center of your back right now,” I whisper to him. “Don’t start sleeping easily, Crown Prince. Especially now you only have two or three of your seven left to watch your back.”
His eyes narrow, but his smile is nasty. “I’m going to enjoy cutting the heart from your lover’s chest. In fact, I might make you eat it once we’ve used it to power the spell.”
Ice floods through my veins.
A dragon’s heart.
They know.
Ruhle grabs my upper arm as I lunge forward, his fingers digging in cruelly as he leans toward me. “Did you think Father was going to make the trade? Your precious soul in exchange for the horn? Did you think you were going to be finally free?” He laughs. “We know the truth now. We don’t need the horn. We don’t need the cauldron. What we need is waiting for us at the Easternwick ruins. The dragon’s heart was right there in front of us the entire
