He?

What in Alondria?

“This way,” Ellie said, leaving my side and gently gripping the Queen of Naenden by the arm. She led her through the ballroom doors and into the corridor, informing the guards that the queen was ill and would need her privacy. Kiran and I followed behind, heat and anxiety rolling off the King of Naenden in waves.

The servants had hardly shut the doors behind us when a voice erupted from Asha’s lips.

It took me all of one second to realize it was not the Queen of Naenden who spoke.

Is she locked away? the voice demanded, low and horrifying and tantalizing all at the same time.

“Yes, she’s locked in a cell in the dungeons.”

It is not enough.

The queen’s expression was horror-stricken and didn’t match the fury that emanated from the voice. She was listening, shocked just as much as the rest of us.

“She’s under strict watch. There’s no getting out of those cells,” I assured her.

She’ll find a way. She always finds a way.

Ellie gripped my arm, her hand shaking.

In an instant, Kiran was at his wife’s side, holding her steady as she trembled. “Give Asha her voice back, or so help me, I’ll—”

Kiran, the voice rumbled, ancient as the dawn of time, and just as weary. It was begging now, pleading with the King of Naenden. You can’t let her escape. She’ll come looking for me. She’ll come looking for Asha.

Queen Asha’s eye went wide. Fury radiated in heat waves from her husband.

When the King of Naenden’s eyes met mine, they were no longer molten.

They were blue as the tip of a flame.

“Where is she?”

“I…” Could I let the king near Blaise in this state? Sure, he had taken a fae vow, bound his life to his promise… But there were ways of breaking a fae bond. With one’s life, for example. And the way the temperature in the corridor had spiked when Kiran glimpsed the terror on his wife’s face, when he’d heard of the threat to her safety…

I didn’t doubt at all that his life was a price he’d gladly pay.

If I let him anywhere near Blaise, he’d kill her.

“We’ll take you to her,” Ellie said, and I squeezed her hand, desperately trying to communicate with her. Could she not see what I saw? There was death in that male’s readied posture. “But it won’t do you any good to kill her. Whatever is inside her is ancient, just like whatever is inside you.” She nodded toward the queen. “It didn’t originate with her, and it won’t end with her, either.”

I nodded, making sense of Ellie’s words. “Just like it didn’t end with Madame LeFleur’s death,” I said, remembering the queen’s theory that the magic that inhabited Blaise had once crept within the shopkeeper’s body.

Kiran swallowed, but understanding washed over his face. When he spoke, his voice was dry. “Just take me to her.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but a door to my left crashed open. Out burst Harold, one of the guards stationed to keep watch over Blaise.

My blood ran cold.

Two words later, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t get that last dance with Ellie. At least, not tonight.

“She’s gone.”

EPILOGUE

BLAISE

I should have known I’d end up here eventually. Rotting in a hole. Though the accommodations Evander made for me in the prison cell aren’t exactly shabby.

Evander is kind like that.

I’m pretty sure he threatened the guards within an inch of their life if any of them lays a hand on me, because they keep even their eyes averted.

My cell is simple, like he wants to make a point about this definitely being a punishment for my behavior. The bed is lumpy, and I toss and turn every night until my back is tangled in knots.

If I’m being honest with myself, I sleep the day away, too.

But the cell is clean, and my latrine is changed out three times a day, so it rarely stinks in my cell. And my food, while devoid of pastries and scones, is prepared in an assortment of colors. Like Evander is concerned I’ll miss out on key nutrients.

Like I’m a child he’s worried won’t grow if I don’t eat my vegetables.

Andy’s been kind to me, even if he hasn’t visited. I’ve no doubt he’ll make good on his promise to visit the Queen of Naenden and inquire about the magic that possesses me.

He’s nothing if not kind.

It sort of makes it worse.

For the first time in my life, I envy my stepsisters. They’re vain and they prattle on about senseless things, so I’ve never coveted their position. I’d take my stepmother’s loathing over her suffocating affection any day.

But my stepsisters are used to being rejected by potential suitors. It’s the kind of thing that’s bound to happen if you make a habit of throwing yourself at men well above your station, refusing to settle for the sweet farm boys who dote all over you and would happily rescue your family from squalor and raise them to a level of mediocrity.

Apparently, my stepmother considers squalor to be a more reputable position than having her daughters tend pigs like lowly farmhands. So she sics them on counts and nobles and a great many males who might have taken them on as mistresses, but never as wives.

Wives are good for three things:

Status.

Money.

Heirs.

And we have none of it. Who knows, maybe my stepsisters are abundantly fertile, so I take it back. But one out of three isn’t exactly passing with flying colors. The no money part, especially.

Well, they have the little I made working at the palace all those years.

Evander has no idea, of course. He would probably have my stepmother’s head if he knew.