Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
My insides quiver with nerves.
“I should have listened to you,” she says, her voice small, even though her presence remains so powerful, “and I didn’t. I need so badly for you to see things from my perspective that sometimes I forget that you need me to see them from yours.”
When she lifts her head, tears roll down her pink cheeks. I don’t know this female save for the few memories I have of Jasalyn’s that she’s been in, but the raw hope in her eyes cuts through me. This is why this once-human queen has become so quickly beloved by so many of her subjects. That unconditional love she feels for her sister is the same she gives to her court. I can see how easy it would be to follow her, and I’m a little envious of the shadow fae for having such a leader. Elora has a long way to go before we can even hope to have anyone this honorable leading us.
“I was so afraid I’d lost you for good this time,” she says, her voice shaking.
I draw in a ragged breath. All I have to go on is the story Hale and his friends planted. I cling to it, but it’s tricky to navigate. The truth is, there’s no way to answer questions about the princess’s secret faerie lover in a convincing way, because the princess would never have found herself with a secret faerie lover. “I’m sorry. I was . . . selfish. I panicked at the idea of not seeing him again.”
“You didn’t tell me you’d met someone.” There’s no accusation in her voice. Just sadness.
“I didn’t want you to think you needed to protect me from him. He’s not royalty, only a baker’s son.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “You’ve fallen for him,” she says matter-of-factly.
I flick my gaze up to meet hers for a beat, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a malcontent princess who’s fallen in love with a commoner. “I didn’t expect to. It just happened.” I search the dozen or so of the princess’s memories I’ve collected since first taking her form. I need to offer the queen something authentically Jasalyn. Something that will make sure she doesn’t question my story. I swallow hard before I say it. I don’t know the princess, but saying the words out loud feels like a betrayal of a girl I’ve only met once. “He’s the first person since the dungeons whose touch didn’t make my skin crawl.”
She’s quiet for so long that I lift my head. She’s looking out the window, her face contorted in anger. “It’s not that I didn’t suspect you were struggling with physical affection, but I wish you had talked to me about it.”
“And have you feel even guiltier for something that wasn’t your fault?”
She lifts her hand to my cheek slowly enough that my heart aches for her. She’s had to learn to withhold her touch from Jas, had to learn that it isn’t welcome. “You are forgiven,” she whispers.
When she finally touches my cheek, I close my eyes but make sure not to lean into it, and after a beat, I pull away and focus on my hands in my lap again.
“There are days that I want to go to the underworld and beg Mab to turn you fae now so you won’t be so vulnerable,” the queen says. “The only thing that stops me is knowing how much you dread the day you become what I already am.”
I can’t look at her. This is like eavesdropping on the most intimate conversation. The queen is baring her soul to me because she believes I’m her sister, and I hate myself a little for it. I hate that I can’t ease her mind. I want to say I don’t dread becoming fae, but I know dread is precisely what Jasalyn feels.
“I’m not as vulnerable as you think.” It’s the best I can offer, though I know it does nothing to ease the queen’s heartache.
She sniffs and draws a kerchief from a pocket in her skirts. “You don’t have to go with Misha. We’ll find a way for you to stay here if that’s what you really want. I just—”
“No,” I blurt. I swallow, composing myself. I’m supposed to have a lover here—one I’m so distraught about leaving that I stole away for an extra night just to have more time with him—but I’m far too likely to be found out if I stay here. Let alone the fact that I need to be looking for a magical Hall of Doors in the Wild Fae Lands. “No, please. I’ve had time to think. And you’re right.”
“You’re sure?” she asks.
I nod. “My friend . . . he wants me to go too. He said he saw bodies in a village north of here.” I force myself to shiver, as if just remembering his description is upsetting. “He wants me safe.”