King of Always: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 2)
King of Always: Chapter 12

Isla

Enormous golden doors open wide, and I step into the Great Hall flanked by Temnen and Draírdon, their arms linked tightly with mine. My gaze flicks left, then right, taking in the spectacular sci-fi setting.

The hall is an awesome, cavernous space lined with gold, silver, and bronze, and a myriad of shiny, angular surfaces soaring into infinity. At the end of the vast room is a jaw-dropping sight. A magnificent throne that stops my heart and makes me stumble.

From a central disk, metallic beams span the entire surface of a massive rear wall. Shaped like the rays of a mighty sun, the throne appears magical and industrial, and more like a spaceship than an extravagant seat that serves only to make the king look impressive while he sits on his butt presiding over the Court of Merits.

Every few feet, as the Merits tow me along the center aisle toward the throne, our bodies light up in beams of moonlight that shine through domed windows set high in the ceiling, revealing a glittering night sky.

It’s like passing through spotlights on a stage and going by the low hum of chatter filling the air, we have a rather large audience of Merit courtiers. I’m dying, hopefully not literally, to see what they look like, but I can’t take my eyes off the king’s throne long enough to take a peek.

Impatient with my dawdling, Draírdon tugs me forward, and I pick up the pace, my panting breaths as loud as a firestorm in my ears.

We parade past columns of black, red, and gold that rise like monoliths into the darkness above, lush tropical palms swaying at the edges of my vision, mechanical birds flitting through their broad purple leaves. The birds’ high-pitched calls make an eerie but beautiful song as they float along the smoke-scented air.

Fire burns in copper braziers positioned on either side of the walkway, the flames casting flickering green light all around.

The sun throne grows in grandeur and stature as we move closer, finally stopping in front of a set of broad, alternating red and black stairs that climb steeply toward the dais.

In a seat carved into the sun disk’s granite center sits the Merit king, his dark head bent over a clockwork cat that’s purring and meowing in his lap.

Behind the incredible throne, stars sparkle through the most humongous window ever imagined. Floor to ceiling, it covers the whole rear wall of the building and must be taller than two cathedrals stacked on top of each other.

Positioned around the throne are three smaller but still elaborate chairs, one of them occupied by a girl holding a glowing scepter, the others empty.

A hush falls over the hall, and I feel the weight of every gaze in the room heavy on my body, all except one.

Even though the king would have heard our footsteps approach on the marble floor, he is too busy playing with his pet to greet his son, so Temnen clears his throat twice in an attempt to garner his attention. The king doesn’t even glance up.

I shuffle my sore feet, shifting my weight side to side. Hurry up Merit King. Let’s get this over with.

“Father,” calls Temnen loudly, shoving me forward. “Greetings, my King. I have brought you a very special present. Don’t you wish to see it?”

At last, Temnen’s father lifts his head. His long hair resembles a seventeenth century powdered wig, ridiculously shaped with dark ringlets falling to his waist. His shrewd black eyes widen as they finally settle on me. “Temnen, what have you returned with? If my eyes do not deceive me, I believe it is a human!”

With his metallic garments tinkling, the king pushes the cat off his lap, then sweeps down the stairs onto the black marble floor. As he minces forward, he clasps his hands reverently at his chest as if in prayer. “Blessings to the Blood Sun! Temnen, favored child, you have brought me the most meritorious of gifts—a rare ceann a thugann athrú for our kingdom at last. Oh, how I wish you were heir to my kingdom instead of your wretched brother.”

And I wish I knew what the flaming heck a shone-doogan athroo is.

Temnen’s pendant lights up as his popularity statistics update, flashing brightly in the dimly lit hall. Amazing! The court seems to like this creep.

“Human,” Temnen says with his hand on my back. “You stand before King El Fannon, Highest Ruler of the Merits. Father, this is Isla, cousin of Lara, the Prince of Air’s wife. And prepare yourself for further astounding news—I have the Elemental heir, Rafael, in the Black Tower.”

The king hugs Temnen, then kisses his brow. “Extraordinary! I can hardly believe you have taken the Fire Prince captive!”

His smile eager and cruel, El Fannon stalks close, grips my chin, and turns my face this way and that as he inspects me. “This is truly wondrous. You, my second son, have gifted me with the greatest prize—a change bringer, something which my heir, your self-absorbed and ungrateful brother, has never achieved.”

“Be fair, Father,” says the girl sitting in one of the smaller thrones. Her gown is covered in fine silver scales that shimmer like snakeskin. “Riven has never even tried to find a change bringer.”

This must be Temnen’s sister—a delicate-featured fae with green hair of a much brighter shade than his. Her hair, instead of being long and elaborately styled like most female fae, is all chunky layers and spikes, giving her a quirkier, college student look. She has the same orange eyes as her brother but, I’m glad to note, no freaky antennae sprouting from her forehead.

Other than the swirling purple patterns covering her skin that might be tattoos or natural markings, she’s rather normal looking for an Unseelie fae.

And then she speaks.

When her mouth opens, a thin forked tongue darts between her lips, reminding me of a strip of split licorice. It’s a little gross, and I do my best not to stare like a fool.

“Yes, Daughter,” says El Fannon. “Perhaps you are correct. Too fixed of late has Riven been on developing his unpleasantly base earth magic that he’s barely left the castle.” Looking distraught, the king shakes his head. “Nay, I will not think upon Riven’s dedication to the old ways. It will only hinder the digestion of my delicious roasted goat dinner.”

El Fannon bends close to me and runs his flared nostrils along my neck and cheek. Taking a big sniff, his long finger follows his nose in a sharp-nailed caress. He steps away and paces back and forth, possibly pondering what to do with me. Temnen and the mage watch him silently.

While I wait for my fate to be decided, I slow my breathing to calm my rising terror and distract myself by wondering what herbs and spices the Merit cooks used to flavor the goat the king had for dinner. Lots of garlic, rosemary, and thyme if they happen to grow well in this land.

The king halts, absently playing with one of the black spires, shaped like glittery cell towers, that decorate his crown. He points at Temnen. “Since we have the Land of Five’s heir as our prisoner, I am not certain whether to call for a celebration feast or hunker in our war chambers to prepare for Queen Varenus’s impending assault.”

Smiling, he rubs his hands together. “Varenus will be livid! I wish I could see her now, tearing her white hair from her skull until it is bloody. And Everend too, blowing tempests and storm clouds. Perhaps I should make your useless brother assist with a bout of scrying in the druid’s well so we can enjoy the spectacle of their fury. After all, it is Riven’s only talent of worth. I may as well benefit from it.”

“Oh, leave Riven be,” the snake-tongued daughter says, gliding down the stairs to stop beside the king and link her arm through his. “You know you’ll only upset him, and then he will hurt you, and you’ll bear the scars of Riven’s wrath a full moon’s turn. I beg you not to inflict these tedious theatrics upon your court. We all grow weary of it. As our monarch, do you really wish to see your statistics fall again?”

The king pouts like a child, and while the royal family parries back and forth, arguing about the absent prince called Riven, I inspect the hall, searching for the queen. No one else sits on the dais. No woman stands beside El Fannon. Not only is Temnen’s brother missing, but it seems his mother is as well.

The courtiers’ feral eyes glitter, wide grins flickering in the torchlight, their expressions sinister rather than welcoming. With their wings and horns and gruesome fangs, they’re not too dissimilar to the Seelie fae, just a little more savage. When they notice me examining them, they let loose bestial hoots and howls, subsiding into raucous chatter.

I quickly flick my gaze away, then upward until I find the highest point of the vaulted ceiling—it seems another galaxy away.

Something dances to the left of my vision, catching my attention. Water glistening on the floor—or actually in the floor. A great triangle is carved into the marble, encompassing the room. The point is on the dais and the base forms a moat or a watery welcome mat near the entrance to the hall.

When we arrived, I was too busy gawking at the throne to notice it, but I do recall Draírdon lifting me over the water and the hem of my tunic getting soaked. Its quietly lapping beauty adds to the menacing atmosphere of the hall.

The channel on my left is quite close, so I bend and peer into it. In this light, the water looks red—blood red. I think of the king’s recent words about blood sun blessings, and a shiver skitters down my spine as images of Mayan sacrifices and rivulets of blood flowing over ancient stones run wild through my mind.

Temnen clears his throat, then silences the noise of the court by clapping his hands together, the sound like clashing cymbals. “Let us speak no more of Riven.” He inserts himself between the king and his daughter. “Sister, meet my new acquisition, the mortal girl, Isla.”

“Hello, Isla,” she says, the black tongue slithering out with her smile. “You look very tired and weak, but you have a most pleasant face. We may yet be friends. I am called Lidwinia and out of all my siblings, I have the highest Merit statistics.”

Interesting. To be so popular, she’s either incredibly likable or a manipulative little witch. To discover the answer, I’ll try prodding her to see if she bites.

My fist planted on my hip, I lift my chin and say, “It’s good to meet you, but as you can see, I’m bruised and battered, hungry, and in shock. Today, I saw not one, but two different people, if I can call fae people, turn themselves into bizarre creatures. I’ve been kidnapped and flown across land and sea while dangling through the air like a rat, then dragged before your court without even being given a sip of water, let alone a bath. So, I hope you can forgive me for appearing tired.”

Lidwinia rubs my arm. “Poor Isla.” Her snake-tongued smile seems genuine but still a little gross. “Father, you must let her bathe and rest. Human constitutions are not as strong as ours, and you will have ample opportunity to enjoy her company on the morrow.”

I hate to think what hanging out with El Fannon might entail, but his daughter seems okay for a Merit.

Olwydd, Temnen’s bird, who’s been watching the proceedings from his perch on a giant beam above the throne, spreads his bronze wings, swooping down to land on the prince’s shoulder. With a rattle of metal, it fluffs its plumage, then squeaks and chirps like a hungry chick. Temnen shoves something in its beak, and it settles to preen its filigree feathers.

“Of course, my dear. Of course,” says the king. “Yes. She must take sustenance and then rest immediately after.” He snatches my hand and kisses my dirty fingers, leaving a damp spot on my skin that I have to grit my teeth to stop from rubbing on my tunic. “I have decided that you will work with our innovators in the advancement of Merit technology. If you execute your duties well, you will be given the same opportunities to progress through the ranks of Merit society as any other member of our court. Today a prisoner, in several moons, who knows what you will become, dear Change-Bringer?”

What the fruit? How am I meant to help them invent stuff? If they’re in the market for a food stylist to take drool-worthy photos for a cooking blog, then, sure, I’m their girl. New and unusual takes on sweets and desserts? Yep, I’m good for that, too. Anything else, they can forget about.

But I think I’ll wait until I’ve had a meal and a full night’s sleep before I confess I have no clue about technology. Change-Bringer! I’ve never been called anything more ridiculous in my life.

The king’s eyebrows are raised, his hands clasped at his chest again like he’s waiting for me to declare how happy I am to be a prisoner of the Merit Court. With wild emotions swinging between outrage and fear, I’m far from thrilled. Call me a control freak, but I hate not knowing what will happen to me when the next day’s sun comes up.

I give the king a serene smile. “Am I going to the dungeons?”

As if I’ve cracked a wonderful joke, the whole court bursts into laughter, even the sour-faced mushroom mage.

“No, no,” El Fannon replies, shaking his head and chuckling. I’m glad he finds me so amusing. “You shall live in the White Tower. It is a special place, very beautiful, and I am most certain you’ll be pleased with your fine quarters. Very pleased indeed.”

The smug grin Temnen wears makes me doubt the king’s assessment of my new quarters. Pleased is the last thing he’d want me to be. “But will I be free to move around the castle and the city or am I to be locked in?”

“Free?” The king scoffs. “That is a difficult word, open to many interpretations. Tell me, Change-Bringer, what does freedom mean to you?”

“It means being allowed to come and go from the wheat tower whenever I want—”

Temnen flicks his green locks over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. “It’s called the White Tower, human, not wheat. As a species, mortals have a reputation for being somewhat thick-headed, but I did not realize you were hard of hearing as well.”

“Pardon my mistake, Prince Temnen.” I dip him a sarcastic curtsy and turn back to his father. “To me, freedom means walking in the fresh air. Moving about without guards following my every move. Cooking whenever I want.” At the mention of cooking, the king’s eyebrows nearly disappear under his outrageously shaped hairline. “I love wandering around markets and searching for the best produce to make dinner with, and—”

“Yes. Yes. I see. Well, as our guest, I’m sure you can do all of those things.” He nods to himself and lifts his pendant, then taps on it with his pointy black nail, entering something on the screen. “Yes, that won’t be a problem. You will wear a Merit pendant which will record your statistics and also track your movements at all times.”

Given I was expecting to be dumped in a dank cell with wall shackles and torture instruments for company, wearing a tracking device doesn’t sound ideal, but the alternative could be much worse.

“But if you take off the pendant, know that you will be put to death within the hour.”

Shock surges through my blood. Really? They’d kill me so quickly just for taking off the stupid pendant? Fff—fruit, that’s bad news. Good save! I give myself a mental pat on the back. For Lara’s sake, I really am making an effort to clean up my language. And due to that, nearly every time I speak, I sound like an idiot—even in my head.

“Elas,” El Fannon calls, gesturing to a pale-skinned fae hovering by the dais. Elas gives a regal nod and glides over. “Isla, this is our technomancer and Supreme Advancer of the Merits, Lord Elas. Beginning tomorrow, you will work together in the Meritorium.”

I will? These Merits are flipping crazy. Even Raff’s mire fox would make a better scientist than me! If they’re short for staff in their lab, they could at least start me at the bottom on filing duties or record keeping, not working with their top technodancer—or mancer or whatever the bleeping-bleep he’s called.

And they already have their amazing Merit pendants, which are basically wearable tablet computers. What more do they want? Truth be told, the only thing I could help them advance is their sourdough bread starter. If I’m stuck here for a while, can’t I work in the kitchen as a baker? Once the courtiers tasted my strawberry macarons, I’m sure my Merit points would soar through the stratosphere. Then they’d have good reason to keep me alive.

Taking a breath, I prepare to inform them of my lack of science and innovation skills but, fortunately, my brain kicks into gear before I fess up. I’m not keen on becoming a sacrifice to their precious blood sun—whatever that is—before I’ve had my dinner. That thought makes my stomach rumble loudly, which turns my mind to tonight’s menu. Besides the king’s roasted goat, I wonder what else is available?

Trying to hide my awe, I watch Elas fuss with a Merit pendant, his finger stabbing the screen in a blur. He looks disturbingly like a vampire, dressed in silver and black fitted robes that sweep to the floor from a ridiculously high neck collar. Tiny steel disks cover the material and chink musically when he moves.

Long midnight hair, eyes as dark as bottomless pits in hell, translucent ivory skin, he’s quite something to look at. But it’s the awesome black metal wings tucked neatly behind his back that really catch my attention. I’d love to see him fly.

He smiles as he leans close to me, white fangs peeking between his lips. I hope he’s not planning to feast on my blood! His angular features are pleasant and not at all unkind, and as he drops the pendant around my neck, he surprises me with a wink. “There you are, Lady Isla. It is now calibrated to your personal biorhythms.”

Brilliant—a gift I’d never in my wildest dreams think to wish for. Or want.

“Thank you,” I say, gritting my teeth.

The pendant is quite big, but very light. What could it be made of? Metal and magic is my best guess.

Elas inclines his head toward the king. “Your Majesty, will you give me leave to escort Lady Isla to her chambers? We have much to speak about together.”

“Yes, you may do so, Elas. See that she settles in well.”

Elas bows and takes my arm. The other Merits stare at me with shining eyes and quivering grins like I’m a new toy they can’t wait to play with.

“Wait.” I smooth the wrinkles from my tunic. “Before we go, what’s the tower called where the guards took Prince Rafael? If you hurt him, you’ll find I won’t be inclined to be of much help in the Meritorium.” Which, of course, I won’t be anyway. “Can you promise to keep the prince alive? I’m not very fond of him, but he is family after all.”

“Do not threaten us, mortal!” Temnen yells, his pendant lighting up with fast-changing statistics. Are they going up or down?

“Son, calm yourself. I am certain the change-bringer understands that while she is valuable to us, she is not indispensable. Our technomancer’s skills have served us well thus far and, if we must, we will make do without her input. And she will make do without her life.”

I fold my trembling hands behind my back.

Draírdon steeples his gnarled fingers under his chin. In the flickering light, his peeling features are ghastly. “You have many questions, young human. Tomorrow, you will be satisfied when some of them are answered.”

What does that mean? Are they planning to kill Raff tonight?

After the creepy mage and the royal family bid us goodnight, Elas turns me toward the exit. “Come, Lady Isla. You must be tired.”

I give him a weak smile. “That’s an understatement.”

As we walk up the aisle, my pendant flashes constantly. The Court of Merits are casting their judgment. I lift my chin and steel my spine. Don’t trip. Don’t stumble. And, most importantly, do not fall flat on your face.

When we reach the arched doors that are emblazoned with blood-red suns, the guards stationed on either side crash enormous sets of cymbals, shocking a stupid-sounding gasp from me.

Elas pats my arm. “Not much longer now. The exit is before us.” He hoists me into the air, planting me on the other side of the entrance moat.

The golden doors close behind us as soon as we step through them, cutting off the spine-chilling cackles and howls of the Merit courtiers.

Finally, I can breathe again.

An orange moon hangs above the city, so big it nearly swallows up the indigo sky. The air is warm and thickly scented with a mix of jasmine, chimney smoke, and a grimace-inducing dash of rotten eggs.

Trudging through the empty streets, I lean on Elas and take in the sights. Raff’s home, Talamh Cúig, is wrapped in black and emerald, the jewel-tone effect beautiful and mystical. The Merit city is black, too, but slashed and bordered with silver and copper, dark and burnished, industrial rather than pretty.

The city streets wind up and down until, finally, we break through the maze and come out onto a flat expanse of ordered gardens. Tree-lined walking paths spread in geometrical designs, and Elas points out the impressive Meritorium at the center, its architectural slopes lit up like a museum.

“Wow.” I tug Elas to a stop so I can better admire it. “It’s amazing.”

He gestures past the gardens. “Look, there is the Obsidian Sea where Temnen would have landed earlier.”

Two thin towers are visible in the distance—one black and the other white, set a fair distance apart. “They’re both in the sea?”

“Yes. Both towers are set on tiny islands.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice the white one when we arrived.”

“It shows itself when necessary.”

Okay then. “So Raff’s locked up in the black one? He’s a prisoner, right?”

Elas nods. “Yes. His accommodations are vastly different to the ones you will inhabit.”

“Can I visit him?”

“If the journey is not too arduous for you, of course you may.” At my shocked expression, he laughs. “It will be impossible for you to free the Elemental prince. In fact, the more often you visit, the more it will please El Fannon. He knows your presence will bring Rafael great pain.”

My stomach growls, and the fae steps forward. “Come. You must recover and gather strength. I will expect you in the Meritorium after breakfast tomorrow, which will be served in your chambers.”

Right now, I’m more concerned about dinner, which had better be waiting for me or there’ll be big trouble. Hell hath no fury like a hungry baker.

I eye the shining tower. It seems so far away. “Do we have to walk? You’ve got wings. Don’t you change into a beast that can fly? Like a giant bat or a pterodactyl?”

“What is a terrodack—”

“It’s a type of dinosaur.”

His dark brows twist.

“An ancient creature from Earth—long extinct. Don’t worry about it.”

“I shan’t,” he says, clearly thinking me a fool. He takes several running steps away from me, then leaps suddenly into the air and changes smoothly into a creature that looks uncannily similar to the flying reptile I’d just described, except it has Elas’s black-metal wings and intelligent dark eyes.

He circles above, screeching like a prehistoric monster before landing gently in front of me. The beast opens its gigantic beak, sending me skittering backward when Elas’s crisp, cultured voice echoes out of it.

Wow. The creature talks.

“Climb aboard,” he says, plucking me off the pavement and flinging me onto his back.

“Home, Elas, and don’t spare the horses,” I say, slurring my words deliriously. My eyes close and my fingers find bony grooves near his shoulders to cling to. If I fall asleep, I’ll probably plummet to my death. Oh well, so be it. I’m too tired to care.

A few minutes later, I jolt awake as we skid to a rough landing in the precise spot Temnen dumped me and Raff earlier this evening.

A warm sea breeze plays through my hair, tangling it over my face. I swipe it away, and the metal-spiked foot bridge comes into focus. My gaze follows its arch over the churning waves, and I notice how it splits into two forks in the middle, one leading to the ivory tower and the other to the black.

“You sure the White Tower isn’t a prison?” I ask Elas, who has shifted back into his elegant but still spooky fae form.

“I assure you it isn’t. But come and see for yourself.”

As we cross the bridge, I search for signs of life from Raff’s tower—a guard asleep outside, a light burning in one of the high windows—but find none. He’s probably dead already, the idea a dull ache in my gut.

The entrance to the White Tower is unbarred, and I only have to drag myself up two levels of a winding staircase to reach a golden door bordered by a charming pattern of copper and silver suns.

Elas bows. “Here are your apartments.”

“You’re not coming in?” I ask, immediately realizing it sounds like an invitation to a romp.

“No.” He looks slightly offended. “Most definitely not.”

“I only thought you might like to eat with me, tell me more about what to expect tomorrow at the Meritorium.” A terrible thought occurs to me. “There is food in there, right?”

“Of course. Go inside. Eat. Bathe. Sleep. Someone will come for you in the morning.”

“Are there guards or other residents in the tower?”

“No. You are quite alone but watched constantly. If you require help, we will come.”

Crap. Watched by who? And how?

I paste a smile on my face. “Thank you.” For not killing me yet. “Tell me…is Raff’s room located in roughly the same place in the Black Tower as mine?”

“No, he is situated at the top of the tower. You will need your strength to reach him—his cell is a thousand steps high. You won’t have time to pay a visit to the fire prince tomorrow morning. Perhaps after our work is complete you may do so.”

My smile freezes on my face. Raff’s cell being situated halfway to the moon will make escape difficult in his weakened state. “You should see me jogging up Thigh-Cracker’s Hill on Sunday mornings after two strong coffees and a poached egg breakfast. Steps don’t scare me. Goodnight, Elas.”

“I cannot imagine what this jogging activity might be or how you manage to do it with cracked thighs, but I admit it sounds amusing.”

“You have no idea.”

With a rustle of wings, he disappears from sight, footsteps growing fainter on the stone steps. Then I’m all alone.

If these Merits think a thousand steps are going to stop me from visiting Raff, they’re sorely mistaken. I wasn’t joking about the jogging. Second to baking, it’s my favorite pastime. City streets, winding park tracks, woodland paths, and especially steep hills—I love it all. My thigh muscles are rock-hard.

A turn of a latch, a push of my shoulder, then I stumble into my new temporary home. And cheese and crickets—it’s absolutely incredible!

An enormous circular room divided into sections by soft veils and swathed in jewel-tone tapestries and velvets greets my hanging jaw. Five illuminated glass balls of different sizes float about the room, warming the space with their golden light.

I look farther up expecting to see the usual ornate vaulted ceiling of fae castles, but all I find above me is never-ending blackness. It feels immense and ominous, like a portal, as if I might be sucked up any moment by the stars into another world or dimension. A shiver tingles down to my toes. I shake off the feeling. I don’t have time to be afraid, I’ve got to inspect my room and find the food before I faint from exhaustion.

First, I wander over to a bed that sits on a frame of angled gold and silver beams, similar to the sculpture behind the king’s throne. I touch the white fur covers and wonder how many poor creatures died to create such luxury.

Behind a carved partition is a wood-fired stove set into the wall of a small kitchen. Yippee! I can cook in this place. Then the smell hits me. Food. Glorious Food.

Tears of joy filling my eyes, I rush over to a round table positioned in front of a white-marble fireplace, on it rests a covered tray. I lift the lid and steam rises from a bowl of stew, making my mouth water. There’s even crispy white bread to soak the meal up with.

Without further ado, I take a seat and begin stuffing my face, moaning in ecstasy as the richly flavored juice drips down my chin. Thankfully, there’s no one else here to witness this…except for the creepers who are apparently always watching. At the moment, I’m too hungry to care about them. Let the perverts gawk all they like.

As I eat, lilting string music plays, lightening the atmosphere. Where it comes from doesn’t bear thinking about.

When I’ve gorged myself silly, I waddle around inspecting the chamber, thrilled to find a copper bathtub full of rose petal-strewn water behind another lavish partition. It’s the perfect temperature to dive right into, so other than the remove-this-and-you-die pendant, I peel my filthy clothes off and soak away the horrors of the day.

Was it really only this afternoon when I was lying back in my pretty red carriage chatting with Alorus? It seems another lifetime ago when I was a different person. A safer one.

My muscles melt as I dry off in front of the fire that somehow lit itself the moment I stood in front of its hearth. Then, lulled sleepy by the flames, I put on the soft ivory-colored pajamas laid out for me and climb into bed.

As I settle beneath the covers, the glass balls dim, the firelight still dancing with the shadows on the walls, and I’m glad my eyelids are too heavy to look up into that dark void above. I don’t want to know what might be up there looking down at me.

I recall the strip of bare windows circling the tower walls. They’re way too high to provide a view, but if the lower arched windows open, I’ll be able to hang my hair out tomorrow like Rapunzel. No idea why I’d want to do that. Who do I expect would climb up and rescue me? Certainly not Raff.

Anyway, the Merits said I’m free to leave the tower whenever I want. I don’t need rescuing.

Snuggled under the furs and bone weary, I begin to drift off. My last thoughts are of the Prince of Fire and what I can do to ensure the Merits keep him alive—if he’s not already dead.

Tomorrow, I’ll explore the castle and eavesdrop on courtiers’ conversations. If there’s a way to break the prince out, I’ll find it. I have to.

Hang in there, Raff. You may drive me crazy, but I’m not going to abandon you. I’ll come for you as soon as I can.

I promise.

Just hold on.

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