Too dangerous, they said.

But there’s too much at stake to play it safe. I need to throw it all on the line.

I’m going to walk right in the front door.

Episode One Hundred Two

HOLD IT TOGETHER

Okay so it may be a little risky. And while my brain is trying to tell my heart that it’ll all work out in the end, the message isn’t translating to the rest of my body because my hands are shaking and my legs feel weak.

We’re in an alcove of evergreen trees on the edge of the Summer Palace. Arion knows most of the guards’ stations and foot paths and he assured us, this was the best hiding place.

I can just make out the tall spires of the palace through the waxy tree leaves.

Bran grabs me by the wrist and yanks me into him. “Be careful, little mouse.”

“As careful as I can be,” I tell him.

He gives me a kiss. Quick and to the point but bites at my bottom lip reminding me who’s in charge. Being careful is an order and I’m expected to follow it.

I grin up at him.

When he’s sure we’ve had our moment, Arion comes over. “Just make me one promise, little sister of mine. Don’t kill the queen before I reach you.”

“You have my word.”

He gives me a quick nod and then I turn and walk toward the palace.

The guards stationed at the front gate are so fooled by my magical illusion that they bow their heads deeply as I pass beneath the stone archway.

I ignore them the way Arion and Lethea instructed me. Members of royal courts do not look at, speak to, or acknowledge guards.

It takes everything in me to follow this rule. Are they not worthy of a hello or a simple wave? That’s the first thing I’ll change at my court. Just as soon as I destroy my enemies and reclaim my throne.

Once inside the palace, I go left and then take a right and then enter a receiving room. There are several fae here, some in the middle of a game of dice, others feasting on what looks like roasted meat and sweet tarts.

At the end of the red carpet that runs from the entrance to the closed door at the back, a woman cuts me off.

She’s got a long braid of red hair and perfect brown skin. Her pointed ears are capped with gold jewelry and red gems hang from piercings in her lobes.

“Greetings, Princess Lethea,” she says. “State your reason for visiting. Last you were here, you were a prisoner, were you not?”

The woman arches a knowing brow.

My first instinct is to laugh like it’s a big joke, and then my second instinct is to lie about it. It’s not until my third instinct kicks in that I remember I’m supposed to be Lethea—cold, calculating, fearless Lethea, a fae assassin princess who also cannot lie. I keep my face blank and say, “May I please see the queen? I’ve been sent here with an urgent matter from the Autumn Queen.”

The woman’s gaze turns suspicious, and it takes everything in me not to fidget beneath her scrutiny.

Lethea probably never fidgets.

“What matter?” the woman asks.

“Confidential,” I answer.

“Hmmm,” she says.

The seconds grow taut. I keep my hands hanging limply by my sides.