Page 12 of The Shadow Heir

“You just compared them to songbirds.”

Alba lifted her hands in frustration. “My point,” she seethed, “was simply that their short lifespans aren’t the reason we despise them.”

I rolled my eyes. “So, find one to duel with, if you wish. But do not interfere with the games.”

“I won’t.”

I turned away, rubbing my chin. “The mortal I met tonight could handle a blade,” I said, rubbing a hand over the place where the iron had pierced my flesh. If Alba knew that woman had stabbed me, she’d never let me live it down.

“Excellent. I want to practice with someone who knows how to fight.”

“A mortal against a fae is not a fight.”

She snorted. “That’s why it’ll be so much fun!”

“Don’t get too excited. She has to survive her first trial.”

Alba clapped, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the upcoming trial or the fact that there might be a mortal she could duel with.

When my sister’s footsteps moved away, I spun back around.

At only eighty-one, Alba was still a novice at magic, born of a union created during one of our father’s travels to the Star Court in an attempt to forge peace between us. She’d been here only two decades, not long enough to have known Velazques or Augustín. Not long enough to know the pain I knew. Not long enough to hate our father the way I did.

As she scampered up the stairwell that led up to her quarters, I muttered, “Never stop dreaming, Alba.”

I half considered flying a little more tonight, feeling the need to let the wind carry me, but there were more pressing matters. So, with a last glance at the night, I turned and entered my bedroom through a heavy wooden door set into the mountainside.

Bypassing the bed I rarely used, I marched straight to my study, where books and vials all called to my attention.

I had time, I reminded myself. A quick, deep inhale helped me settle my thoughts, and I moved to the rows of vials. My fingers traced the edge of a shelf stocked with everything from remedies to stomach ailments to balms for burned skin. I found a dusty vial labeledBrittlebloom Extractand tipped it forward. The shelf loosened from the wall, and I pulled, not far enough to open the room behind the shelf, built centuries ago by a brother I’d never known, but enough to access the hidden panel that looked only like the back of the shelf. I pried open the tiny slot that housed a single book.

When the compartment was again hidden away behind my shelf, I sat and thumbed to the last page I’d read.

Entry 612: I should add to my last note that lithewart leavesare the important part, not the buds, as I expected.When crushed and added, they offer a bolstering effect to the goosenettle, which I believe is an essential ingredient for the way it dulls the pain.

I glanced at my shelves, finding the tin of dried lithewart and the oil of goosenettle, both plants that had been discovered in the neighboring realm, Verindal, a thousand years ago.

The handwriting on the page, browned with age, was elegant and slanted in the old style, the letters shaped with precision and grace, even in the language no one else could read but those who owned this journal. I traced the lines with a finger, absently wondering who or what had interrupted Enzo when he penned this entry some seven hundred years ago.

A flicker at the corner of my mind told me someone had passed the boundary spell outside my room.

I stood and quickly hid the journal back in its slot behind the shelf and took a seat at my desk, grabbing the book nearest me and feigning interest.

A knock sounded.

“Court business, Your Highness.” It was one of the fae in charge of setting up the mortal games. I’d brought home one man and he would have to perform for the fae court at dawn.

“Coming,” I called, abandoning my books. With a sigh, I grabbed my suit jacket from the back of my chair and jammed my arms in the sleeves. Then I quickly snatched the black stone crown from my desk, tossed my hair back, and settled the crown on top of my head. It might as well have been a chain, binding me to the will of the Shadow Court.

6

Zara

With the frenzy of activity in the house and grounds as final preparations for tonight’s ball were made, I had few options for where to pass my time—the library or the shooting range or the stables. The fae prince had warned me that magic bound me to the estate.

After sneaking a few small blades and holsters from the family armory, I settled on the library, hoping to find a book that contained information I hadn’t yet read about the fae—some jewel of information that could save my life. I’d read every fictional tale we owned, but maybe one of the historical tomes mentioned these otherworldly creatures. Theyhadto. Talia and I couldn’t be the only humans to meet any fae.

As I searched the library, I assessed what I already knew of them. I now knew that iron didn’t kill them, as many of the stories claimed. And if my arrows and knives couldn’t kill these creatures, then I would arm myself with knowledge.

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