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)
Her lips curve, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I like that he’s looking out for you. Even if it hurts that you never told me about him.”
I don’t want to dig into that, so I stand. “I should pack,” I say, heading toward the door.
“Do I get to meet him at least?” she asks my back. “Your baker’s son?”
I stop and study the floor. “No.”
I can’t even see her face, but I can feel the energy in the room shift as her heart breaks at that answer. “Why not? Are you ashamed of me?”
“I broke it off.” I squeeze my eyes shut. I need the queen and everyone else in this palace to forget about my fictional love interest. If I don’t make them let it go, they’ll try to find him, and nothing good will come of that. Because now that I’m here, now that I feel exactly what the queen feels for her sister, I know she would do it. She’d make any random male a prince if it would make Jas happy.
“You truly believe I wouldn’t let you be with the male you love?”
“It’s better this way,” I say, clinging to the brief answers Jasalyn prefers. “For both of us.”
When I turn to face the queen, she’s standing again, arms wrapped around herself. “You’re sure about that? It’s important that you can have someone in your life who you—”
“I’m sure.” I point over my shoulder. “I’m going to get some things packed and then get a bath and some sleep.”
“Jasalyn, while you’re gone . . .” She grimaces. “You need to address your weaknesses, seek out your powers and—”
“I have no powers.” Jas told me they might press on this and that this is how I should respond.
“They’re there, Jas,” Abriella says. “Just like they were there for me even before I turned fae. The more we get you to tap into them before your eighteenth birthday, the better off you’ll be when that day comes.”
I set my mouth in a belligerent line. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want you to work with Misha and find out what they are. Just like he can teach you to block, he knows how to help you dig deep and find the root of your magic.”
My magic is not one the faeries of this realm know, but if he starts pulling at strings, trying to prove to Jas—to me—that there’s magic inside, he’s going to find he’s right. Even if he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. I can’t have that.
“Why?” I ask. “What’s the rush?”
“You’re next in line to the throne, sister.” Never was there a smile so sad when someone spoke of another inheriting such power. “Mordeus will come for me, and if he’s successful, the people of this court will depend on you.”
Chapter Eight
Jasalyn
THERE IS CERTAINLY NOTHING VIRGINAL about the outfit Skylar put together for me. Actually, outfit is too kind a term for this. This is more of a costume.
“You about done in there?” Skylar calls, pounding on the bathing room door.
“Almost!” I cringe at my reflection.
The sleeveless green top ties behind my neck and reveals every inch of my midriff down to the low-slung and very tight brown leather riding pants.
When I joked about my disguise being that of Skylar’s twin, I was trying to irritate her. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
I allow myself ten seconds of pure mortification before lifting my chin and opening the bathing room door for the group’s appraisal.
Remme’s at the counter washing up the dishes from breakfast and is the first to spot me. He coughs out a laugh. “Wow. Shadow princess who?”
Skylar spins around. Her eyes go wide—not surprised so much as . . . maybe impressed? “Why would you hide all that under stupid dresses and gowns?” She looks me over slowly, and I force myself to keep my hands at my sides when they want to wrap around my stomach to cover my scars. “Natan, when you glamour her, cover her with tattoos, and be sure you hide the scars—they’ll make her stand out too much.”
“Yeah. I can do that,” Natan says. If he looks at me, I’m not sure what his reaction is because Kendrick’s eyes are on me now, his gaze tripping over my bare midriff and down to the skintight leather pants. I’m no longer the scrawny, underfed little girl he protected in Mordeus’s dungeons. My sister and I had been living on scraps for years, and I was so underweight and overworked that I rarely got my monthly cycle. It wasn’t until after my sister became queen and I was living in Faerie that my body changed—went soft and full in places and stayed small in others. Warmth gathers in my stomach at the sensation of Kendrick’s eyes roaming over me, and I realize just how much I want him to like what he sees.