IT HAD BEEN SIX YEARS SINCE I WAS LAST IN AZURINE, YET THE THRONE
room was just as manicured and glitzy as I remembered. Not really my style—I preferred my décor to have a bit more depth to it—but if opal and gold accents on every single door handle and candlestick worked for
them, who was I to judge?
What had changed was the way both Broderick and Isolde regarded me. As if I were an asp in their garden. The last time I was in their throne room was the night before I planned to wed their daughter, and the royal couple were drunk with bubbled wine, cheering to the union of our kingdoms, dining on giant crab and the roasted tentacles of purple squids.
Their energy today was slightly different. “All right, Kane. Spit it out.”
Broderick looked supremely bored sitting on his gilded throne. And I didn’t blame him. He had a kingdom that couldn’t be breached. He didn’t need to aid our suffering or put any of his people in danger. If I were in his shoes, I likely wouldn’t, either. Which meant I’d need to convince him and Isolde the way I would need to be convinced.
“Firstly,” I started, looking around at the throne room, empty save for the three of us and their single, exquisitely armored guard. “Among friends
—” I winced at the queen’s expression. Fine, perhaps not friends. “What do you already know?”
“We know about the girl,” Isolde said. “The healer. That she is the last true Fae from the prophecy.”
Arwen was in enough danger as things stood. The thought of anyone knowing who she really was made my hackles rise, familiar along my spine as if I were in my dragon form.
I reminded myself that Citrine royalty had always known of the Fae Realm. Many of the people of Citrine were Mer, a race bred in the depths of the ocean itself. The royals were mortal, but their people—those who could live and breathe underwater with no spells at all—were the lifeblood of their kingdom and had ancient knowledge of Lumera.
Citrine wasn’t the only kingdom that knew about my homeland. I had my suspicions about the Pearl Mountains knowing of the Fae, too. It didn’t seem possible that the floating city—so focused on the pursuit of knowledge and the worship of the sacred Stones—was entirely unaware of Lumera, but I had never been able to get a straight answer from their ruler, Yervan. And I had no interest in spilling my secrets if he was unwilling to share his.
Aside from Pearl, and my father bringing Garnet and Amber into the fold, for many, many years it was just Citrine, Onyx, and Peridot who knew of the Fae Realm, and thus, the prophecy.
When I arrived in Onyx fifty years ago, I had narrowly escaped a rebellion gone catastrophically wrong and had promised safety to hundreds of Fae. At the time, King Oberon held the Onyx throne, but the wily, liver- spotted man was in his nineties and near death. He was childless, and rumors of civil war were brewing. He had hoped it would be one of his brothers who succeeded him, but he had outlived them all, the old rascal.
I told him of my realm and convinced him of its legitimacy with my lighte. Shared with him the lengths to which I was willing to go to dethrone and kill my father once and for all. And while all I asked for was safe refuge for my people, he had offered me his kingdom instead. He said I was a prince in my own right, and it was time I became a king. Three months later he passed away, and we told the land I was his bastard son.
One of the few lessons of any value my father taught me was to only make one or two allies you can truly count on. Too many, and someone was bound to betray you; too few, and you’d have no support. To the credit of
Eryx’s far more brilliant heir, Amelia, Peridot and Onyx formed exactly such an alliance.
About eight years ago, when Amelia was only nineteen, she invited the young king of Onyx to Siren’s Cove without even asking her father’s permission. Amelia had laid out very clearly why our kingdoms were valuable to each other, from our proximity to our crop disparity. Both a partnership and genuine friendship were born from there, and revealing my Fae heritage came only a few years later.
Citrine was my next—and last—attempt at an alliance. Once I met Broderick and Isolde and realized they had secrets of their own, I shared with them my hope of freeing the Fae Realm. They didn’t balk—it was a realm they had been aware of for decades. Longer than I had even known of them.
It had only made sense then to promise myself to Sera when she came of age and ensure a sacred and fruitful partnership between kingdoms over the many years to come. Isolde was a wise queen. She knew if I succeeded in destroying my father, her daughter would one day rule the Fae Realm as well. And if I failed . . . well, I’d be dead and she could marry whomever she pleased. A decent deal.
Or it would have been, had I gone through with it—but I had taken one look at young Sera, only thirteen at the time, and realized Isolde and I had vastly different ideas of what coming “of age” entailed. Call it revulsion, ethics, or impulsivity, but I reneged on the marriage and fled the city before the ceremony could take place.
Looking at Isolde now, all I could see was her tear-streaked face that windy winter evening by the sea as she held her inconsolable daughter and roared that I was never to step foot in their kingdom again.
And now, six years later, I had done exactly that.
“You’re right,” I managed. “Arwen is the promised Fae. And that information needs never to leave this room. Who else knows what she is?”
“Just the people in this room and our highest advisor, Master Aled,” Broderick said. “He heard of the healer that had taken up residence in Shadowhold months ago. Some spies informed us of her similarities to the
woman who showed an impressive display of power in Siren’s Bay. We put the pieces together.”
I rubbed at my temples.
“Citrine is safe for her,” Broderick reassured me. “We are not fools, Kane. We understand what is at stake here. But outside of harboring the girl, we cannot help you. We have fought hard to keep this kingdom safe. To avoid the pointless wars of mortal men.”
“You know this isn’t just mortal men.” I stepped forward with intent, and the guard behind Isolde lifted his blade, a shimmer of bright blue light dancing across the room.
Mermagic.
Stronger than steel, that cerulean glow could lop my head clean off. I unclenched my fists.
“Even still, we cannot help you,” Broderick said, his guard stepping back like a dog called off a scent.
Despite his baritone voice, Broderick’s words barely resonated in the glossy, empty room. Such a calm man. I wondered if he ever raged.
I turned to Isolde. I’d have to get through to her somehow.
“I couldn’t do it to Sera,” I admitted. And then, before she cut me off, “I know, I know. You’re her mother, you know what’s right for her, but the thought of wedding her. Putting an heir into her . . . She was just a child.”
“This is your way of convincing us to help you? Insulting how we raised our daughter? How we chose to wed her?”
All right. New approach.
I had not even shared this half-assed, last-ditch plan with Griffin. His sigh of frustration would have knocked me over. “Isolde, if we defeat my father and win the war, someone will need to sit on the throne of Lumera. I am the rightful king, but will abdicate to stay in Onyx. It is my home now.”
Isolde said nothing, but folded her hands primly in her lap. I wasn’t sure if the gesture was a good sign or a bad one.
“Lumerians will only recognize a Fae monarch, but a mortal spouse would greatly help to promote unity between the species. Especially after
my father’s quest for a solely full-blooded Fae race. Help us, and I swear to you, I will crown a Fae worthy of Sera.”
After a long moment, in which all I could hear was my pulse slamming in my own ears, she angled her head toward her husband and spoke, more to him than to me.
“We do not want to see Lazarus take Evendell, to ruin it as he has Lumera.”
My heart flew up against my ribs— “But—”
And fell like a dove shot out of the sky.
“We cannot lend you our mermagic nor our armies. I will not let my people go like willing sacrifices against Fae soldiers. In exchange for your promise to wed Sera to the next Fae king, we can offer you refuge for the men and women who arrived today. However, you must swear not to spill one ounce of blood on Citrine sand. Do not forget how well we know you, King Ravenwood. No lighte, no shifting, no endangering our people.”
“Understood.”
“One step out of line,” Isolde hissed, “and you and every single passenger from that ship will be thrown into our sea.”
 |
THOUGH I FOUND THE PALACE AT AZURINE TO BE OVERDONE AND EMBELLISHED with extravagance, the castle did have one aspect I greatly appreciated, which was their expansive marble showers.
The room Isolde’s guards escorted me to was the one I always stayed in during my previous visits to the capital. A sunlit suite, adorned with plush bedding, offered a magnificent view of the whitewashed streets of the city and the glistening Mineral Sea beyond.
In the washroom, past the soaking tub, was the bathing area—a closet of piping-hot, steaming rain surrounded by glossy emerald tiles.
I stripped off my grimy pants and tunic from our seemingly endless voyage on the ship and tossed them into the wastebasket with more force than necessary.
The mirror before me reflected a sorry sight: gaunt, sallow, and rough. A patchy beard. Sunken eyes. I needed to stop seeking solace in mugs of whiskey.
I turned on the water, letting it cascade from the ceiling until the whole washroom was damp and sticky. I then stepped inside and scrubbed every inch of my body until my skin felt raw.
When I was finished, I stood under the hot spray of water, bracing my hands on the tiles in front of me. Little beads of heat dripped between my outspread fingers. A steady stream pounded the crown of my head and the back of my neck. I tried to keep my thoughts from wandering.
Hotter.
That would help.
I twisted the knob until the water was scalding.
And then hotter still, until my skin was as red as a newborn’s. It was no use. I couldn’t help but think of Arwen.
I had been avoiding it for days. It just felt too dirty, too despicable to let myself imagine her knowing how she felt about me now—what I had done to her.
But I needed a single moment of release. Especially after the empty promises I had made to Isolde. Now, even if I won this damn war, I’d have another one on my hands unless I married Sera off to some Fae noble. I couldn’t even fathom who might rule Lumera if we succeeded. I never allowed myself to think that far ahead. To have defeated Lazarus would mean Arwen had . . .
My fist slammed into the slippery shower wall, cracking the tile and sending debris to my feet.
I couldn’t take to the skies, as I so often did when I was this restless. Gods knew I wasn’t going to bed someone else.
And . . . I dreamt of her. Every damn night. Arwen had invaded not only my waking thoughts but my sleeping ones as well. It was hopeless. Humiliating, to be so wound up, like a coiled wire after months and months of wanting and not having her.
One time, I’d allow myself to think of her. Just this once.
I circled my hand around my shaft and began to stroke in a steady rhythm. The swell of her breasts, larger than my palm, and her hard, pink-tipped nipples swirled in my mind. The curve of her slender hips, of her wet lips and tongue. What they might feel like wrapped around me. I tried to imagine her still wanting me, riding me, writhing on top of me, begging me to thrust harder, to bring her to the edge. Her core slick and swollen, drawing me in. Her hands, greedy, clawing at me, begging me for more, more, more—I pumped faster into my hand, pressing the other against the wet tiles to keep myself upright. I came hard and rough, her name escaping my lips.
The immediate shame that followed was even more potent than the desire that had driven me. I was disgusted with myself.
I rinsed off and wrapped a towel around my hips. That would be the last time. It was a release for old times’ sake.
Yeah, that made sense.
The knock on my door was a welcome distraction. Please, let it be someone who wants to punch me in the face.
I opened the door to Griffin’s stoic expression. “Close enough,” I muttered to myself.
He shot me a curious look and sat down in the beige lambskin chair next to the fireplace, picking up a decorative opalescent seashell from the table beside him. “I just met with Master Aled.” He turned to me, a gleam in his eye. “We may have a way in with Crawford.”
My brows perked up. Finally, some good news. “Really?” “Here, in Azurine. Tonight.”
“Great,” I said, sinking into the chair opposite him.
Griffin examined me before he let out a brusque laugh. “You look wrecked.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t envy you. That”—he gestured at my face—“looks worse than an axe wound.”
“Thanks.” He’d likely never suffer my miserable fate. I wasn’t sure Griffin was capable of romantic love. It wasn’t as if he’d ever had an example to learn from. He grew up in a colder home than my own. “She was too good for you anyway,” he offered earnestly.
“I know that.”
“I’m not going to talk feelings with you.”
“I know that, too,” I mumbled, letting my head fall back behind me. The ceiling had a swirled, wavelike design chiseled into it.
“Good,” he said.
“They’re going to let us stay.” “Also good.”
“I had to promise Sera to whoever takes the throne in Lumera, if we win.”
“Less good.” I smirked.
“Who will it be?” he asked. “You?”
I lifted my head and found humor in his eyes. “Of course not. How about you?”
That humor died instantly in exchange for crackling contempt.
“We’ll keep thinking, then,” I said. “What’s our route to the collector?”
“A private event he hosts. We can attend with the prince.” Griffin dipped his head, studying the shell still in his hands.
I furrowed a brow. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“No obliterating Crawford. Not until we get the blade.” “Fine,” I agreed.
“Aled said Crawford has been collecting Mer girls. The royals didn’t know until he had sold almost thirty of them. Young girls.”
Bitterness churned in my stomach. Crawford already deserved a long and thorough beating for all the people he had scammed and stolen from. Now he deserved death. “Why didn’t they arrest him? Try him for his crimes?”
Griffin looked almost as murderous as I felt. “They don’t have enough evidence. Didn’t want to risk it given his status in the city. He had one of his longtime cronies take the fall. Isolde and Broderick hanged the lackey in the city center. Not much of a punishment if you ask me.”
Griffin’s father was the head of my father’s army and the most brutal man I had ever met. His mother was even icier. In his opinion, hanging was a swift and honorable death. A courtesy almost.
I stood, sprinkling the chair in water droplets. “We’ll get any information on the blade that we can while we’re in town, then we’ll do Isolde and Broderick a favor by exterminating one of their pests.”
Griffin stood, too. “Kane—”
“Where do we meet him tonight?”
He loosed a long-suffering sigh. “Now that’s the fun part.”
