Page 69 of A Deal with the Shadow King

Especially since a wonky-looking rune could leave an imprudent traveler stranded in another world.

“Permanent runes are earned. One by one.” He motions for me to shoo. “I trust you can find your way back in fourteen days?”

I offer him a wry grin. “As long as you don’t enchant me to forget.”

“No enchantments needed. You know the rules. If you fail to show up…”

“I know. You win. I lose…and I can’t know more. Got it.”

He cracks up, the smile more genuine than any previous smile adorned by his beautiful mouth. “This bet was really rigged in our favor, wasn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

My heart stumbles. Two is worlds apart from One. He doesn’t have the same voice, the same temperament, or even the same facial expressions, but no matter how many times I remind myself of that, my body disagrees. After last night in the gym… I won’t let One forsake me so easily.

“Anything else?” Two asks, his brows raised in question.

I shake off the nerves and turn my back to him, erasing him from my vision. “No, I’m good.” I slip on my mask and step through the glass, leaving Two and his sarcastic quips behind.

It’s early in the morning, so my father’s castle is bustling with activity, but my powers have grown, so I stay easily out of sight, using the shadows in the foliage of the gardens and the dark corners of the castle to skip to my room to change. I open the door—I asked Esme to leave it unlocked this time around—to find Cece crying on my bed.

The surprise pulls me out of the shadows, and we both gasp in unison.

She clutches the letter she’s holding. “I couldn’t reach you in Faerie, Nell. I’m sorry.”

My current thoughts vanish at the obvious anguish in her voice, her red eyes quickening my pulse. “What’s going on? Is it Father? Esme?”

She shakes her head, her cheeks flushed, and wipes her tears off with the sleeve of her lavender dress. “No.” She hands over the crumpled letter. “I opened your letter. I know you warned me never to open them, but Mathilda Haysting wrote to you while you were gone. Firenze cut his leg, and it got infected… I think they’re going to put him down soon. They were holding out for you, but Father told them you were very sick.”

“You did good, Cece.” I kiss her forehead. “Come on, we have no time to waste.”

“You mean?—”

“Let’s go!” I hurriedly trade my huntress uniform for a dress.

Esme enters the room, her nose wrinkled on a sad, hopeless grimace. “I was afraid you’d say that… I already asked the king if we could go, and he said no. Besides…the Haystings have probably already cut the poor horse’s suffering short.”

“Where is he?” I ask Cece.

“His office. But?—”

Seeing red, I storm out of the room.

“Miss Penny, please take a moment to think,” Esme shouts behind me.

Climbing down the stairs two at a time, I hurry past the main hall and the confused guards to reach the end of the southern corridor. Before they can come to their senses, I barrel through the closed doors of Father’s office with a confidence that would have eluded me in the past, but I won’t let Firenze die. Not on my watch.

My bravado fizzles out faster than a falling star as I take in the sight of the two diplomats sitting opposite my father. Oh no… I certainly interrupted an important meeting.

The men’s deep frowns cause me to slow down, but I straighten up my skirt and walk to the king with my head held high. “Please excuse my ghastly interruption, Father, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Father clears his throat loudly, a fierce red tint sticking to his cheeks and nose. “Please give us a moment.”

The men look a bit cross as they step out of the office the same way I came, and I wait for the thick doors to close behind them before saying, “I want to go to the Haysting’s farm and heal Firenze.”

Father’s eyes narrow, and he slowly rises to his feet, his gaze angled to the side like he’d rather look at the empty wall than his own daughter. “Urgent would be you or your sister risking death or disgrace. Urgent would be news of a rebellion in the kingdom, or a declaration of war from our neighbors. A horse dying is not a good reason to barge in here as though you’re some savage, uneducated child. Women are not allowed in here, as you well know. ”

“You’re right. I apologize,” I say, mostly to appease him. “Be that as it may…I think Firenze’s condition is worth my attention. And time is of the essence.”

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