For a second, I see his blood splashed across the marble tiles of his palace, the knife planted between his shoulder blades. An end to the monstrous lord of the Evernight court, and freedom for those Asturians who’ve been imprisoned in the war camps. No more fighting. No more endless wars. No more scheming and politicking.
But murder, just the same.
“No,” I say abruptly. “I’m no assassin.”
Adaia leans down, her face resting on my shoulder and her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “Perhaps not. But he’d never expect it. Not from you, with your soft heart and those pretty eyes. And perhaps you should consider your people. The Kingdom of Asturia has been at war with Evernight for centuries. Whilst this treaty sparks a fragile truce, it doesn’t mean anything. We could end this war with a single strike. We would own Mistmere, perhaps more….”
I push away from her, the hem of my silk wrap brushing against my calves. “Murder, Mother. I’m the first person they’ll point the finger at. Who do you think they’ll blame? If I kill the prince, then his people will execute me immediately, and their armies will rise against you.”
“Not if it’s self-defense,” she points out.
So now I’m to frame an assassination as an assault by the prince.
“Thiago has no heir,” she continues. “Without him, his generals will fight for control of his armies. It will be chaos, and I will crush them.”
I notice she doesn’t address the part where I lose my head.
“Take the dagger.”
It’s not a suggestion.
I pick it up, feeling the weight of it. Accepting it doesn’t mean I have to go through with anything.
“I’ll consider it.” I catch a glimpse of my mother’s dangerous smile in the reflection as the queen backs away. It wouldn’t surprise me if she made this bargain with this end in mind.
“You have an hour. Get dressed and meet us in the courtyard. We ride for the Hallow. Wear the red.”
Then she’s gone.
Leaving me trembling.
I can’t believe she gave me no warning. Or maybe that was deliberate: With a hint of what was to come, I might have been able to flee or outmaneuver this treaty. Now, I don’t have a choice. The stamp of the guard’s feet as they settle outside my door is jarringly loud, and my mother expects me in the courtyard within an hour.
This isn’t merely hesitating to strike a killing blow against a monster.
This is politics, and she will brook no refusal.
But who would I rather face? My mother or a volatile, dangerous prince who might think me a plaything?
My resolve firms. If he thinks he’s getting a trinket to toy with, then he had best think again.
The prince of the Kingdom of Evernight is Unseelie to his bones, despite the fact he claims to be Seelie. I can’t afford to show him even a hint of my weak underbelly.
And curse my mother, but I’ll be damned to the Underworld if I’ll let her think me her puppet.
I fling the wardrobe open, both the red and the white gowns tumbling in a frothy mess to the floor. Inside the wardrobe, right at the back, is the dress.
It’s like a piece of pure midnight was carved from the sky, diamond stars glittering down its silken length. I don’t know what urged me to have it made. Mother’s right: vibrant colors suit me best. And yet, I’d been unable to think of anything else the moment I saw the material.
Red would be a sign of groveling.
The white is probably what she intended me to wear all along.
But this…. Time to show her I refuse to bow to her whims. This princess has claws. And she’s not afraid to use them.
Chapter 3
The guards are on edge as we take the portal from Hawthorne Castle to the Hallow that lies by the grassy plains of the Queensmoot, where the Seelie Alliance will meet for the Lammastide rites.
It’s the only Hallow in the area, which means every queen—and prince—will be using it. Despite their vigilance, there’s no sign of danger as we step through the circle of standing stones that guards the portal. Power hums through the ley line it’s set upon, setting my teeth on edge, but the night is quiet and dark.
And probably full of surprises.
In the distance, enormous bonfires glow like a necklet of starfire gems draped around the throat of the nearby mountains. The moment takes my breath away. I’ve heard the court bard speak of the unbroken chain of Lammastide fires that ward against the thinning of the Veil. It’s said the fires protect the realm from the Others who occasionally slip through the portals from the Underworld on nights like these, when both worlds pass each other so closely they almost touch.
“If I was an assassin, you’d be dead right now.” My sister materializes out of the shadows, tearing my gaze from the mountains.
“The only thing you’ve killed of late, appears to be a flock of ravens,” I point out. “Does mother approve? Where’s your pretty gown?”
She wears black leather from head to toe, with a ruff of raven’s feathers around her throat. That moonlight hair is braided back fiercely, and silver moons drip from her ears. No dress for her. She’s a warrior princess, prepared to hold a sword at someone’s throat if needed.
“I’m not here to play nice with the other nobles.”
No, I’m the one dressed up like a gift, though the black silk cape I wear hides my starlight dress. I’m not quite prepared to reveal it just yet.
Curse it. I feel like a peacock, displayed on a platter on the dining table.
“You didn’t tell her about the bane.”
My sister doesn’t flinch.
And a thought occurs. “You knew.”
Andraste didn’t need to tell mother about my failure. She’s already won. I’m to be sent as tribute to another kingdom, a sacrifice to peace. The path to being named heir is clear for her without so much as
