It made the queen stand out like the moon on the blackest of nights.

At least the parasite could respect the queen’s presence, if not her looks.

“I assume you intend to tell me why you’ve swept me away from my home,” the parasite stated more than asked, reveling in the timbre of her sultry voice as she exercised its freedom. She hadn’t spoken in a mooncycle, being trapped within Blaise’s body, and she always relished the shiver that snaked down her spine at the sound of her own voice.

Of Cinderella’s voice, she supposed.

The queen sitting across from her might have huffed, if she had been the sort to allow any such expression to escape the cool veneer of her face. “You act as though I stole you from a riverside summer home and not that pitiful excuse for a dungeon where I found you.”

Cinderella didn’t bother bristling. She’d been less than thrilled when she’d heard—from a cramped corner of Blaise’s mind—that Evander intended to lock her up until he found a way to extract the parasite from her host. But the parasite had surmounted greater obstacles than prison cells before.

And look, she hadn’t even ended up having to break herself out.

The Queen of Mystral had glided in and done that for her.

“How might I service you, my queen?” the parasite asked in a tone that rather lacked the submissiveness her words might have otherwise implied.

The Queen of Mystral folded her hands together in her lap, interlocking her fingers. “It’s not as much about what you can do for me, as what we might do for one another.”

Cinderella raised what she was sure was a perfectly arched eyebrow—thick enough so as not to look like a bald rat with her moonlight hair, sharp and precise enough to still be mistaken as dainty. “And what is it you propose?”

“Power. That is what you crave, is it not?” the queen asked, looking upon the parasite not with disdain, but understanding. “Is that not why you attempted to seduce the Prince of Dwellen, to gain a place by his side?”

The parasite supposed the queen’s assumption was about as accurate as claiming that a male wanted a wife for the specific way she seasoned fish—certainly a benefit of the deal, but not by any means the whole of it.

The parasite craved power, of course; she wasn’t aware of a being in this realm who didn’t. However, that was far from the whole truth of the matter.

Power for the sake of power seemed rather vain, rather fleeting in the eyes of the parasite.

The draw lay in what else power could obtain.

For the parasite, that was freedom.

Sliding her way into Evander’s bed, then his crown, finding a way to end his father, would have opened up a host of opportunities. The entirety of Dwellen’s resources would have been at her carefully manicured fingertips. For centuries, the parasite had been cursed. For centuries, she’d been shoved like a used, crumpled piece of parchment into the backs of her hosts’ minds, only free to move about as she wished during the hours between when the full moon crested the horizon and apexed in the sky.

The parasite could have had an entire kingdom on the search for a cure to her predicament.

Ellie Payne had ruined her plan, of course.

Still, the parasite wasn’t keen on anyone knowing the truth behind her intentions, so she let the Queen of Mystral keep talking. Let her reveal her heart, she thought, that I may exploit it as she’s attempting to exploit me.

The parasite shifted in her seat, making a gray spot in the velvet cushions. She supposed the movement looked as though her interest was piqued, as if it betrayed intrigue, which was exactly what the parasite intended. “I’m assuming you wish for something in return,” she said, sure to make her voice rise ever so slightly at the end to indicate an eagerness that was only half as present as she would like for the queen to believe.

“Access to your power in return,” said the queen. “A rather fair trade, I would argue.”

The parasite raised both brows this time, unimpressed. “No.”

The stately queen was so caught off guard that she recoiled. “No?”

The parasite shrugged and slumped back in her seat, making sure to spread her legs open like she’d seen males do, a gesture she’d always interpreted as a manner to assert their dominance. “No.” She liked the way her pretty lips formed to make the word.

The layer of ice obscuring the queen’s internal machinations cracked a bit, annoyance oozing through like steam. “You’ve not heard the conditions.”

The parasite leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Why would I need to hear the conditions? You are fae, meaning that should I choose you as my host, you would overpower me. Absorb me without having to as much as blemish that pretty face of yours with a grimace. So no. I will not end up like my siblings, melded with the souls of fae until my sentience is wiped from existence. Fractured into a dozen pieces of your offspring until I’m debased, the source of games your grandchildren use to impress their cousins as they roll about in the mud.”

The parasite paused before offering, “Unless, of course, you and I were to strike a bargain.” The parasite’s eyes sparkled with delight as she examined the queen’s rigid posture. “A fae vow that should I join myself to you, you may never absorb my power for yourself, may never rip control away from me.”

The queen leveled a steely stare onto the parasite. “I can vow only this much: should you choose me as your host, I would take great pains never to absorb you. We could devise a written agreement, laying out the terms for which I could absorb you should you step out of line. I will not surrender my body to the control of another; you understand, of course.”

“Of course,” the parasite said. “What I understand is that we are unable to come to a suitable agreement at this time.”

The queen swallowed, her throat bobbing. “It is my understanding that within the next hour, you will be trapped within the confines of your host once again.”

“It would be the same were I to settle into your skin, my queen,” said the parasite. “Surely there is only so much damage you believe I am capable of in the span of only a few hours a mooncycle.”

“Oh, I do not doubt the damage of which a creature such as yourself is capable,” said the queen with more venom than the parasite felt was warranted. Sure, the parasite knew she could be unpleasant, but the way the queen spoke was as if the parasite had done her a personal wrong, rather than refused a business transaction that, in the parasite’s opinion, was not altogether to her own benefit.

“What is it that you wish to obtain with my power?” The parasite was genuinely curious. The Queen of Mystral was known for her magical powers that exceeded those of her peers. Perhaps she had a fetish for collecting various forms of magic.

A cruel smile snaked across the queen’s pale lips, and she brought a curved finger to her mouth. “Given that we are unable to come to an agreement, that is none of your concern.”

“Hm,” said the parasite before slumping back into her seat cushions.

She spent the next hour, regrettably, fantasizing about what she would find were she to crack the queen’s skull and examine her brain.

She thought there would be many folds, indeed.

The queen was undeniably more powerful than the parasite, who had created Cinderella’s body with allure in mind, not physical or magical power. She supposed she could channel Blaise’s innate desperation to become someone else to shape-shift again, but the desperation which had clung so closely to her host’s spirit had begun to fade ever since her realization that Prince Evander would never return her love.

Even shifting into Cinderella had taken more effort than it should have.

The girl had faded, and it was not to the parasite’s benefit.

Besides, what the girl had so desperately wanted was to be something the prince would desire, and fire-breathing dragon did not make that list; therefore, the parasite doubted such a transition would be possible this eve.

So she stared at the queen and kept herself entertained with the various ends to which the queen might one day come.

“What do you call yourself?” asked the queen after an hour of consideration.

“In this body, I have adopted the name Cinderella, though throughout history some have referred to me as a parasite.”

It was quite satisfying, watching the queen bristle. It was also quite satisfying claiming that one had made history books. The parasite had never found herself in a history book before, but that was not a satisfactory reason to doubt her existence within them.

“Allow me to make myself plain,” said the queen. “I am willing to offer you a reasonable bargain. Should your pride hinder you from accepting it, I will be forced to take more drastic measures to ensure your cooperation.”

The parasite winked. “When you first came to rescue me from that cell, I assumed you had done your research. But clearly, your information is faulty.”

“Is that so?” said the queen, clearly less than amused.