“Humans made sure to eliminate any surviving heirs of faerie royalty. Meallán was a Northern queen, which was why your father’s family had never left Grelta, Marai,” explained Keshel. “I’ve read journals that state Meallán was the most powerful of all the old fae.”

“And the angriest,” Marai said, “since she cursed the ring.”

Thora’s eyes were as wide as blooming marigolds. “You have a cursed ring?”

Marai reached into her pocket, unfurling her gloved hand to reveal the dark jasper ring flecked with crimson that she’d stolen from Slate.

Thora sucked in a breath. Kadiatu gaped, coming to Marai’s other side.

“What kind of curse?” Kadiatu eyed the ring as if it might explode at any moment.

Raife, Leif, and Aresti walked in, drenched in sweat from extra training. They gently set down their weapons and stayed quiet as Marai held up the ring.

“I was told that when the human slaves rebelled against Meallán, she cursed them before they killed her,” Marai told the room. “She vowed that whoever wore this ring would have the power to vanquish all human life.”

“I’ve recently had visions of Meallán—” said Keshel.

“Any other visions you want to tell us about?” Marai asked, eyes narrowing. How much more did Keshel see that he never told anyone?

Keshel continued. “I saw her curse the ring. A terrible darkness shrouded her. Then I saw the humans kill her, and bury the ring in a mountain on the White Ridge.”

“How did Marai get it?” asked Leif. He stalked forward and took hold of Marai’s wrist to examine the ring.

She wrenched herself free from his grasp. “I stole it from a greedy pirate captain.” Leif didn’t require any more details than that.

“Meallán’s magic courses through her veins. She’s the rightful owner of this ring,” said Keshel.

Everyone towered over her to get a peek at the jewel.

Claustrophobic, Marai stepped away, giving herself space. But I’m no one. A mere half-fae.

“This all seems unbelievable to me,” Aresti scoffed. “If Marai is Meallán’s successor, why does that matter? We don’t need a faerie queen. There’s only seven of us. I don’t want Marai lording over me.”

“Well, it’s a sign, isn’t it? We could use this ring,” said Leif, straightening up, green eyes alighting with an internal flame. “If it truly is cursed to bring about the downfall of man, we should use it.”

Marai’s heart stuttered.

Thora put her hands on her hips. “We cannot use a cursed ring. In fact, Marai shouldn’t be holding it.”

“Don’t you understand? There’s a reason this ring came to us now,” Leif continued, ignoring Thora. “The gods or Meallán or fate are telling us that now is the time to take down the humans. You said it yourselves: Rayghast is coming for us.”

What a fucking idiot.

“Absolutely not,” Marai said. “I’m not wielding this ring to hurt anyone.”

“That’s what it’s for, Marai. You apparently have a queen’s power. We’re all that’s left of the fae. Why else were you given both Meallán’s magic and her ring if the gods weren’t begging you to save us?” A cold fire stoked in Leif’s eyes. Marai had never seen him so passionate before.

Kadiatu backed away against the cave wall. Keshel watched impassively, listening. Unhelpful.

“I agree,” Aresti chimed in, stepping up beside Leif. “I’m tired of hiding from humans. We can use this ring to protect ourselves against them.”

Thora shook her head. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Why? They’ve slaughtered thousands of us,” Leif shouted. “We’re the last of a mighty people. We’re nearly extinct!”

“Humans killed us, but we enslaved them centuries ago. We’d killed thousands of humans, too. Meallán killed humans. It’s a terrible, treacherous cycle,” Marai said, blood boiling. She craned her neck to stare into Leif’s searing gaze. “You’ve never stepped foot outside of this territory. You don’t know what’s out there. You’ve hardly interacted with humans, other than the people in Paracaso, and the few stragglers that wander here.”

“What have humans done to you, Marai?” Leif challenged, jeering down at her as if she was a pathetic child. “You came back here, a shell of a being, barely able to stand. You don’t think we know what happened? You don’t think we guessed? The truth was written all over your face. Keshel told us you were shunned and hurt by humans. Over and over. You slaughtered them when you were a mercenary.”

Marai whirled around to Keshel and speared him with her nastiest glare. Her fingers itched for her sword, but she kept breathing, kept calming. Thora came to her side, linking her arm through Marai’s.

“Easy, Storm Cloud,” she whispered.

Marai’s anger didn’t dissipate, despite those familiar words. She shook Thora off.

“You know nothing about my life,” she said to both Keshel and Leif. “You have a one-sided, ignorant opinion.”

Leif growled, holding up his clenched fists. “Humans are the enemy. They killed everyone we know. Our parents. Our siblings. An entire race of people. They deserve to be punished!”

“We aren’t murderers,” whispered Kadiatu.

I am, Marai thought bitterly.

Raife stepped closer to Thora. Marai saw him stop the impulse to put his arm around her.

Thora pleaded, “What about the innocents? The children? We all have human blood in our veins.”

“Why not kill the rulers?” Aresti posed. “The nine wicked kings. We don’t need to kill innocents. We give them all a choice: fight against us or submit. We don’t need to rule over humans. We just want an equal share; our own land where we can live in peace.”

“I’m tired of living in this fucking cave as if I’m the evil one,” Leif said, red rising up his neck. “It’s time we take back what’s rightfully ours, what the gods themselves gave us!”

“No,” Marai snarled, and a pulse of magic shot through the cavern. Lightning snaked and crackled, creating a stunned silence in the room. Magic sparked in Marai’s hands. It was the first true sign of power she’d seen in weeks. The jasper ring vibrated in her clenched fist. “I am Queen Meallán’s descendant. The ring presented itself to me. I’m the one who can wield it, therefore it’s my decision what to do with its power.”

Raife stepped in front of Thora protectively, but she still peeked around him, gaping. Kadiatu covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide as saucers. Leif and Aresti lowered into fighting stance, ready to combat Marai if needed. Keshel’s face remained blank. He didn’t move a muscle. The silence was heavy, saturated with fear and confusion and fury.

Marai didn’t want this responsibility. She didn’t want to be a descendant of queens. She’d never craved power, but now it was at her fingertips, and the idea frightened her.

“Even if we chose to use the ring,” began Raife in his calm tone, “there are only seven of us and thousands of them. Our magic is no match for their numbers. There’s no way we could ever succeed. And Marai’s right–she’s the one with the power here. Not us. It’s her choice.”

Marai glanced at him and he gave her a nod of support.

“I’ve done terrible things; things I’m not proud of,” she said, her voice a low growl. “As you stated, Leif, I was a mercenary and a pirate. I don’t regret most of the lives I’ve taken. Most were crooked, horrible people. I’ve done my part to rid Astye of those villains, and there are plenty of wicked rulers who deserve death, such as King Rayghast of Tacorn. But not all humans deserve such a fate. Not every human is an enemy.”

“But those who don’t hate us, fear us. Are you saying that we can merely wipe away hundreds of years of prejudice?” Leif said. “That we can be friends with them?”

“No,” Marai admitted. “They’d have no qualms about killing us. Their fear and misunderstanding runs deep. As does yours, apparently.”

“What about other oppressed magical folk?” asked Aresti. “They’d join us. They have to hate the way things are as much as we do.”