Chapter One
Cress
I paced from one end of my tower cell to the next. I’d never felt this trapped before. I didn’t like it. I couldn’t see the sky. I couldn’t feel fresh air on my skin. I felt like I was suffocating and in the dark no less since I’d been given no light. There wasn’t even a damn window. Tyr—Orion’s rotten bastard of a brother—was the cause.
As if my thoughts had summoned the creature straight from Death’s realm, the door to my prison rattled and opened and he stepped into the entrance, framed by the firelight behind him. Oh, how I wanted to run him through with one of the Princes’ swords. I wanted to claw his eyes out. Punch him in the throat. Kick him in the balls.
I took several steps towards him, intending to do just that when he held up a hand and invisible manacles encircled my arms and legs, stopping me from moving any further.
“I can understand your reasonable anger, Cress,” Tyr said as he stepped into the room. He lifted a hand, the movement a shadow across the floor at my feet. Within seconds, fires erupted around the room—clinging to lanterns that had been hung there previously but had gone unlit. “But you won’t harm me—or rather, I won’t allow you to.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “What?” I snapped in challenge. “Are you scared of a little girl?”
He chuckled as the door behind him closed. “Of course not. Give me just a moment,” he replied calmly.
Fuck his calm! I wasn’t calm. I was angry. Angrier than I’d ever been. I listened to the sound of keys jingling in the lock as the door was relocked. Only then did Tyr lower his arm and the invisible bindings disappeared. I didn’t even hesitate. I continued my forward momentum, brought my foot back, and nailed him right between the legs.
“Fuck!” He went down on his knees, throwing a hand out at me. A wave of power hit me and propelled me backwards. My spine hit the stone wall, and I winced as I slid down. That was going to bruise. I didn’t care. It’d been worth it to kick him right where the sun didn’t shine. So fucking worth it.
“You are a feisty one, I’ll give you that,” he wheezed. “Seems my brother chose well for his mate … and his friends’ mate.”
I clenched my teeth against the pain in my back as I got on my knees and leveraged myself up. I stood and held my ground, my hands balling into fists at my side. Already I could feel the soreness in my back. It was going to make sleeping really painful, I knew. “Why would you do this?” I demanded, ignoring his comment. “Why would you take me? What could I possibly have to help you gain anything? It’s clear you’re in this for power. Right?”
“Right.” He nodded and I took some pleasure in the fact that he still looked pale. When he stood, he did so slightly hunched as he moved further from me and back towards the door to lean against the wall alongside it.
It didn’t matter. I’d done what I wanted. I knew there was no way I’d get much more than one hit in. I was effectively trapped here. And even if I did manage to escape, I knew nothing about the King’s castle. Sure, I’d grown up in Amnestia, but I hadn’t ever left the small abbey I’d been raised in until I’d met the Princes.
“It’s more than that, little Changeling,” he said gruffly.
I narrowed my gaze on him and waited. Slowly, ever so slowly, Tyr straightened his back and looked at me. "I admit," he said, "originally, I was bored."
My mouth dropped open. That couldn't be right. He couldn't possibly be telling me that he did all of this—betrayed his race and his brother because he was bored. As if sensing my thoughts, he grinned ruefully.
"I'm sure my little brother has told you very little, if anything, about his home Court. The Court of Midnight is as secretive as it is powerful," he said. "We are taught from birth to play the game and play it well."
"What game?" I demanded. "Life and death? That's no game."
Tyr tilted his head and slowly lowered his eyes until they had passed over the rest of me. "There is a reason we keep to ourselves, a reason why ours is the Court called upon for action and war, little Changeling." I snarled, hating it when he called me that. They—my Princes—could call me that, but he couldn't. He ignored the sound and continued. "The Court of Midnight possesses old magic, ancient and dangerous magic. We were the ones called upon when Courts of old needed to be taught a lesson."
When Courts of old needed to be taught a lesson … My lips parted and shock rocketed through me. He couldn't mean what I thought he meant. Did that mean … was his Court—Orion's Court—responsible for the loss of the Brightling Court?
A cruel, twisted sneer lit his face. "I can see you understand," he said. "Midnight is the power that steals all other magic. We are not life. We are death incarnate. With such power comes a great deal of tediousness. What does one do when you have all of the power of the world, hmmm?"
My muscles jumped and shook. Anger poured through me, and yet, I couldn't move. I simply stood there and watched him, cautious, confused, and yes, even a little scared. It wasn't a Fae that stood before me but a monster.
"Orion, of course, was always a little different. When heirs are young, they are sent away to other Courts to begin their training. He met Sorrell and Roan at the Court of Frost and Court of Crimson and when The Crimson Queen decided to step down from her Court to give her son some ruling experience, well, it came as no shock to me when Orion leapt at the chance to join him. He always was a weakling."
"He's not weak!" I snapped. My skin heated. My face flamed. Something deep within me burned with the agonizing heat of the sun and it made me want to melt his smug face off. "Orion is one of the strongest, bravest men I know. If anything—you're the weak one."
Tyr's eyes widened for merely a fraction of a moment before he burst out laughing. "Truly amusing," he barked. "I almost believed you there for a moment myself."
"You should believe me," I said through gritted teeth. My hands clenched into fists. I wanted so badly to hit him, but I didn't trust that it wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass. "I'm serious."
"I'm sure you are," he replied, sounding arrogant in his sarcasm, "but you keep interrupting me. Don't you want to know why I did this?" He waved his hand to the stone prison.
I clamped my lips shut.
He grinned. "There, now, that's better. Keep your pretty mouth shut and you might just make it out of this alive," he offered. I'd show him a pretty face. I bet his face would look a whole lot prettier with a couple of bruises. My previous anger towards Ariana held no candle to the fury I felt for this man.
"Now," he continued, "as I was saying. Yes, I began this endeavor out of boredom—the whole betrayal thing really adds some spice to life, don't you think? Humans are so easy to manipulate. They ignore magic that's right before their eyes." He lifted his hand and a flame so dark it was blue danced at his fingertips, illuminating his face in a grotesque mass of shadows and dancing light before it disappeared. "They'll believe what they want to believe and if you use it against them, they aren't even smart enough to realize."