Page 37 of The Shadow Heir

“What do you mean they stole power?” I asked, accepting Ivy’s arm as she looped it under my own. As we ascended, I used my free hand to dust the sand off my dress, arms, and chest. Grit rubbed uncomfortably in my bosom and clung to my hairline. I longed for a bath.

Ivy kept her voice low as she replied. “According to the fae’s own histories, the courts were gifted with power, each from a different source. Sun, moon, stars, and then night. Each draws from a source of light, except for night.” She pursed her lips.“But there was an uprising among some powerful nobles in the Sun and Night Courts, and they split off to form this court.”

My mind spun, racing in time with my still-thundering heart. A dozen questions rose to the surface, but I was most curious about one thing. “Created?” Each year at Leor’s renowned festival, priests or sages from the various religions of Avencia set up booths and attempted to convert listeners to their ways. I’d heard a handful of creation stories; some had made me laugh out loud to the derision of the storyteller, while others had left me feeling empty or worse, unworthy. I’d always assumed there was one true version of history, and that no one really had it right.

My father had never been religious, which made sense now that I thought of the way the bargain had affected him, but it had been a source of contention among the nobles in Leor. Fortunately, my father’s wealth turned their prejudices away for the most part, which only further cemented my reasoning that those people couldn’t possibly hold all the right answers, if they tossed out their own convictions for the sake of rubbing shoulders with a gentleman of higher standing.

Ivy cleared her throat, a small, high-pitched sound. “Do you know the story?” she asked, concern coating her words.

“I’ve heard plenty of stories that attempt to explain the creation of the world, but not many that explain the creation of magic or fae or any of this.” I waved my arm.

The fierce mountain breeze struck us as soon as we exited the natural bowl in the mountainside that held the arena. My sand-laden curls whipped into my face, and I stopped to rub grit from my eyes.

Ivy clutched her arms around her bare shoulders and hurried up the steps. When we reached the platform where a door led into the mountain, I stopped and looked back at the sunny sky.

In a few moments, it would touch my skin. I hated the cold, but I missed the sun. I wanted to wait and feel its rays on my face. “I’m not ready to go back in yet,” I told Ivy.

The side of the mountain dropped off beneath us, and jagged, rocky cliffs stretched between me and any escape route. I walked to the edge of the small balcony and peered over the side. The face of the mountain curved around, creating the small bowl where the arena sat deep in shadow for most of the day.

The cold breeze carried the faint mineral scent of water. To my left, mist rose from one of the crevices in the mountain wall, right below a long row of windows. That must be our hallway. From here, the massive waterfall appeared small as it spilled in a thin veil down the mountainside, disappearing into a ravine.

I smiled over my shoulder at Ivy. “You can see the waterfall from here.”

Ivy scurried over but didn’t come too close to the edge. “I’m afraid of heights,” she said, her olive skin paling.

With a chuckle, I leaned out over the edge of the balcony so far that my feet left the ground.

“Zara!” Ivy grabbed the fabric of my dress and pulled me back.

“I wasn’t going to fall,” I said. Once again, I tipped forward on my hands, my hips balanced on the balustrade.

“I don’t like it. It makes me nervous,” Ivy said, chewing on her lip.

“It feels good to hold my life in my own hands,” I replied, although that wasn’t exactly true. The position was uncomfortable, and I slid my feet back down to the ground and spun to lean against the balcony railing. I lifted my chin and tried to see the top of the mountain, but the sky was so bright behind the peak that it was difficult to look at. Soon, the sun would crest the summit and pour light into this valley.

“My father taught me to never let others control me.” A dry chuckle escaped my throat. “Ironic considering his bargaincontrolled my life. He’s a wealthy man, and he’s used to people attempting to manipulate him. He knew men would be tempted by my inheritance, so he warned me to watch out for false declarations of love. In reality, I think he believed that true love would end his bargain and set me free. He’s a romantic at heart, though he hides it well. I, too, was convinced that falling in love would undo my curse, like it did in so many stories.” I shook my head. “I was wrong, but I learned something valuable about myself: the drive to find a solution kept me from sinking into despair over what was to come. But I was terrible at avoiding the bad men,” I admitted, my shoulders sinking at the memory of too many mistaken loves.

She averted her eyes and bobbed her chin. “My mother made a bargain for my life,” she admitted, “but after I was born. When I was five years old, I fell gravely ill. She’d always believed the stories of the First and Last, the gifter of magic, but when she called on the powers of the fae, she refused the first bargain, which was offered by a man she described as shining like moonlight. He’d offered to save my life in return for making me hideously ugly. Another had apparently offered to switch me out for a healthy fae child she could raise as her own. Yet another fae had offered to take us both into the fae realm, separating us into different cities. When the bargain was offered that I would live twenty years, healthy and well, in the human world with my parents, that was the deal she accepted.”

My face fell as she spoke, and when she finished, my eyes closed slowly. “Ivy…I’m—”

“We’re both here. Nothing to do about it now.”

“Notnothing.I refuse to die here. My father raised me to believe I could rule my own life. He taught me I should never bow to anyone, even knowing I would be here, that I would become their slave.” I turned around and slapped my hand on the cold stone railing, gripping it so hard that my fingers hurt.

“Maybe he was preparing you for this.”

The chill air—or maybe the shock of her words—sent a quiet shiver through my body. She stood close enough to the railing to peer over the edge now, and she wrung her fingers together, clearly nervous.

“We’re both going to get out of here,” I said. Ivy shot me a skeptical glance. “We’re going to make it. We’re going to survive this week, next week, and all of the trials they throw at us. And when our year is over, they’ll let us go.”

Her lips pinched. “Maybe you will.”

“Don’t say that. We both will. We can entertain them with our lives just as easily as we can entertain them with our deaths. We have one week ahead of us, and we’re going to make the most of it.” I gripped her forearms, clutching tighter than I intended to. “They may be immortal, but they still have weaknesses, and I intend to find out what they are.”

The sun broke over the mountain peak and bright, warm rays poured over my skin. I closed my eyes and lifted my palms at my sides. “Right now, I am more powerful than they are.”

When I opened my eyes, Ivy was staring at me with one brow arched.

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