He reaches up to help me dismount, hard eyes locking on me. “You have nothing to fear from me, Your Highness. I would never repay her loss upon an innocent.”
“And my mother? What of her?”
“Adaia’s no innocent.” His smile turns dangerous as he sets me on both feet before the Hallow. “One day, I will make your mother rue the moment she ever heard of my marriage.”
“Even if it destroys her people?” I snort, brushing his hands from my hips. “You speak of not striking the innocent, but you’ll have to plow through them on your way to strike down the queen.”
The answer is in his eyes. “Only those who rise against me will be considered my enemies. And trust me, Your Highness. The people of Asturia would not stand a chance were I to go to war. You would be wise to warn them against such a move.”
“If you were as merciful as you claim, you’d not make such a move in the first place.”
The prince leans closer, the chill early morning wind cutting around the imposing length of his body. “Don’t mistake me, Princess. I’m not merciful. I’m not kind. And I don’t intend to let your mother win this bloody war.” He presses his fingertips to my startled lips. “But you and I have no grievance. Now follow me. Anyone would think you were stalling.”
I glance at the looming stones.
The second I pass through them, this becomes shockingly real. But I can’t afford for him to know I’m nervous.
I hand him the reins as if he’s some lackey. “Lead on, my prince. I’m not afraid of the next three months. Indeed, quite the opposite. I’m going to make you regret every single second of them.”
His smile is swift and makes my heart pound just a little. “You couldn’t make me regret them if you tried your best.”
“Challenge. Accepted.”
The Hallow looms ahead of us.
Thirteen ancient standing stones stood on the moor, carved with bronze glyphs in the old language. Each stone is perfectly smooth and polished, gleaming pale in the moonlight. There are twenty-three Hallows in the Seelie lands, used for centuries as portals. They stand where ley lines intersect, a nexus point for the power that bands the earth. Only sixteen of them remain in use. The others were destroyed or altered during the wars, and while the stones still stand in those ruined Hallows, the fae who used them vanished forever. Now nobody dares.
Each step brings the Hallow closer. I can feel the power within the circle vibrating over my skin. They’ll use that power to open a portal and travel to the prince’s lands.
But where?
The city of Ceres, on the bay? Or Valerian, the ancient City of the Dead that was half destroyed during the Unseelie Wars all those years ago?
“Where are you taking me?” I demand.
“Home,” he replies.
“Gather in close!” Eris bellows, gesturing the rest of the prince’s retinue through the lintel stones.
Twenty-four guards and retainers—which was the strict number allowed to attend from each court—make for close quarters. Thankfully, I’m somewhere near the edge, though Eris grabbed a handful of my horse’s bridle as if she feared I’d bolt at the last second.
“Tempting,” I mutter for her ears only.
Her smile could cut glass. “Time it incorrectly and the Hallow will slice you in two. It would be a shame to get blood all over my boots.”
Thiago cuts his finger and paints blood across one of the granite faces.
Power throbs through the stones, lighting up all the glyphs. They’re written in the Old Tongue, power words that were transcribed by mortal ear directly from the Old Ones. His voice lifts as he slowly intones the words that will channel that power directly through the Hallow.
Each stone lights up.
“Ready?” Thiago asks.
A flash of silver glints in the night to my right.
I react purely on instinct, shoving the prince aside as the knife bound for his back drives directly toward me. I snap my palm into the chin of the assailant, feeling something bump my arm. A face glares at me from inside the cowl of its hood, and I grab the assassin’s hand, twisting it to try and force him to drop the knife—
And then my blood turns to acid.
A scream tears loose.
The assassin punches me in the cheek, then vanishes in a whirl of smoke, but I’m barely aware of it.
I stagger back, slapping a hand to my arm. Blood wells between my fingers, a slash I barely felt until it was too late. My vision blanches as the pain nearly drives me to the ground.
“After him!” Thiago bellows, catching me as my knees give out.
The prince’s retinue fan out, hunting the assailant, but he’s gone, vanishing into the trees that surround the Hallow.
I can barely breathe. Barely see.
The whole world is spinning, and it isn’t because of the portal. The magic within it is powering down, losing focus as the prince’s half-formed spell begins to dissolve.
Thiago picks up the knife, his face savage. “Do you trust me?”
Somehow, I laugh through chattering teeth. “Not even an inch.”
“Then trust this: if anything happens to you while you belong to me, your mother has cause to demand my head. Hold out your arm.”
I have no choice.
He takes my wrist, and I nearly scream again as the simple touch ignites new agony. Black veins crawl up the skin of my forearm, twisting like poisonous brambles hunting for my heart.
Every fae alive knows what that means.
A Deathbound Blade.
“Unfortunately… for you,” I pant, “I think you’re… going to lose your… head after all.”
All these years, scrambling to stay alive in my mother’s court, and it comes to this. A tiny little scratch. An act of mercy, my instincts urging me to react before I’d even had a chance to realize what was happening to me.
My old swordmaster would be impressed with my reaction time.
Unluckily for me, I’m going to end up just as dead as if I hadn’t seen the knife coming. There’s no means to cure the curse attached to a Deathbound Blade. More dangerous than any poison, the curse will eat my heart alive from the inside out.
And I’ll feel every excruciating moment of it.
Someone wanted the prince to suffer.
“How little faith you have in me,” the prince murmurs. “Hold still, Princess. This will hurt.”
Heat flares from his palm.
The pain wells. I scream again, throwing back my head. It incinerates me from within, my blood boiling as if it’s pure acid. Some fae know how to heal, but this isn’t healing. He’s using his magic to destroy the curse that creeps through my body.
Then it’s over.
I come to in the prince’s arms, my head slumped against his chest. A warm palm splays across my back, rubbing soothing circles.
“You’re safe,” he promises.
I hold out my trembling hands. The black veins are vanishing before my eyes. The pain subsides to a dull roar.
I think I’m going to be sick. “All over your boots,” I think I say. I’m not sure. The world is spinning again.
“Get that portal activated!” the prince bellows. His voice lowers, just for me. “I’ll forgive you my boots. Just this once.”
I blink blearily against his chest. Everything hurts. My brain throbs, and my eyes ache as if I haven’t slept in two weeks.