Page 92 of Malice

Tarkin heaves his mountain of girth to stand. No one helps him.

“Try anything like that again,” he snarls, gesturing at Aurora, “and she’ll be the one who pays for it. It’s time to learn your place.” He wheels to his daughter, his own heavy crown askew on his balding head. “And yours.”

Aurora’s jaw sets. A maiden facing a dragon and refusing to back down. “I will never—”

He doesn’t let her finish. “You will.” The king brushes his knuckles against her cheek. She slaps him away. “It’s true. Things would have been easier if you had perished as your sisters did. Without another heir, the realm would have gone to war gladly in order to preserve the Etherium trade and gain access to the Fae courts.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she grinds out.

Tarkin shrugs. “But what does it matter if Leythana’s line is intact? You have no children. Perhaps you will have none. And it’s clear enough that the Etherians will be of no help to us regarding the matter of succession—Endlewild refuses to discuss the matter with me, and the High King of the Fae ignores my letters. I know the tactic well enough. They’re stalling. Waiting to reassert their control over these lands as soon as the last heir is dead. But I mean to take what is ours.”

“The magic in Etheria is not yours,” Mariel fumes. She picks up the crown and brandishes it at him. “And it will be a death sentence if you—”

“Obviously, your mother does not support my plan. But you.” Those beady eyes comb over her and I want to pluck them out of his head. “The realm adores you. Young, beautiful, headstrong. They will follow your lead. It’s a good match with Prince Elias. With a silk trade to supplement our coffers. If you dislike him, he can be on the front line during the war.”

The implication worms its roots into my guts. Even Aurora cringes.

“There are riches beyond your wildest dreams on the other side of the mountain. Magic far more potent than the petty party tricks that keep your hair soft and your skin supple. In return for your support, I will let you rule beside me—forever. The whole world will be at your disposal.” He takes her chin in two fingers. “Or you can fight me and die for it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

In the end, I am carted off to the dungeons.

The Vila in me yearned to attack the magic of my guards. To Shift and bolt from the palace, never to be seen again. But Aurora. I have no doubt the king would make good on his threats. And I will not let her die because of me.

So I find myself locked in a tiny cell, far below the opulence of the palace. It reminds me a little of my Lair. The slimy stone walls, smelling of mold and damp, rotting earth. The cold that seeps through the delicate silk of Laurel’s pilfered gown and into my marrow.

The dungeon is worse than the Lair, though. By far. Rats have taken up residence in the mess of straw piled in one corner, their tiny claws scratching at the stone. And there’s the awful stench—like perhaps the royal sewers empty nearby. This far inside the mountain, they might.

I try to think of other things, like counting the time in the dripping of distant water and the intermittent echo of footsteps. The guard changing, I assume. But they do not come to bait me, as I guessed they would. The Briar King’s Vila pet must be considered too dangerous. And there are no other prisoners close by.

There’s nothing to do but think and sleep. But sleep is as far from me as one of the realms across the Carthegean Sea. Instead, every conceivable thought burrows into my brain like the rats into the straw. How long before Tarkin starts to use me? He’s been planning this invasion for some time. I was just the missing piece. The secret weapon he didn’t even realize that he had. Until the duke. I curse myself again for my idiocy. I should have known this day would come. How many Etherian lives will I take? How many of Tarkin’s enemies will I put down? My skin itches, as if it is already covered in their blood.

Every time I close my eyes, there’s Aurora. The sound of her voice when she asked if I was using her to take over Briar. The look on her face when I had her father in my thrall. It had been as if she was seeing me for the first time.

I rest my forehead against the gritty iron bars of my cell. I must get to her. Explain—

What?A savage voice tears through me. That I didn’t take her father’s gold in return for curses? That I wasn’t lying to her every time we met, making it easy for the Briar King to steal her throne and raze her realm?

Unbidden, a new image of Aurora seems to emerge in the darkness. Her kneeling and looking up at me like I’m a fallen star come to earth. Her skin gloved in moonlight. The taste of her mouth on mine. Our limbs tangled together in sleep. Tears burn down my cheeks as I crumple to the filthy ground. That night was my one slice of happiness. I’ll never have another.

—

The sound of metal screeching against metal jerks my eyelids open. For a moment, I’m lost in the suffocating blackness, the place between waking and sleeping, and I don’t understand why my back aches and I’m freezing and my head feels filled with lead.

And then it all comes careening back.

I’m on my feet as fast as my sore body will let me move. Rough stone nicks my palms as I wedge myself into a corner.

“Alyce.”

My brain must be addled. I’m hallucinating. Because I know that voice. And it can’t possibly be her. My cell door opens with a squeal and a cloaked figure slips inside. Another behind it. My eyes begin to adjust in the gloom.

“Laurel?”

She tugs her hood down around her shoulders, polished black skin drinking the light of her lantern flame. My arms are around her before she can answer.

“What are you doing here? How did you—”