Page 26 of The Shadow Heir

“I love learning about new people and places,” Zara said, surprising me with her candor and upbeat tone. How under the heavens above could she be so chipper after what she’d just endured? It annoyed me. “I’d love to learn more about this place,” she added quickly, shooting me a quick glance. Underneath her forced smile, I detected a sliver of fear. She had her own motivations buried as deep as my own, and it occurred to me that she might be attempting to uncover secrets about me just as I was about her.

Smart, prickly, little thing.

“See?” Alba said, tilting her head sideways.

I sighed and rolled my eyes at Alba, only to realize Zara was watching me with a slight tilt to her head that suggested she found my interaction with my sister fascinating, almost puzzling.

Zara might be digging for information about me, but I knew mortals well enough to know there were many ways to wound them—and wounded humans often revealed more than composed humans. As I looked again at Zara, my expression hardened. “I do not speak to mortals because there is little point. All mortals are like flowers. They bloom, they get scorched by the sun or trampled by the foot of a passing giant, and then they die.” I parroted words I’d heard my father speak countless times.

A scoff rushed from Zara’s lips. Alba’s face drooped and she looked away.

“You are insulted,” I muttered, tasting victory. “But it is only the truth.”

Zara spluttered a little before finding her words. “You are…you think you’re better just because your lives are longer?”

“And we have magic,” I added with a flick of my hand. An apple leaped and spun in the air.

She snorted. “Right. And that. Well, one look at the fae in this cavern, and I can tell you’re all miserable. You laugh at death because you hate life, you twist your features because you can’t stand your reality, you hide in caves and torture those less powerful than you. I pity you.”

I blinked at her, temporarily stupefied. Alba’s mouth hung open, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Cas,” Alba whispered, but I silenced her with a glare sharp enough to cut stone.

“Think what you want about us,” I said to Zara, lazily spooning rice with raisins onto my plate. “Insult us if you must, but you do not know what the next game will be, and I do.”

She pinned me with a sour frown. “You want me to ask what it is—to ask for your help.” A disgusted scoff burst from her lips.

I clicked my tongue. “I think you want my help, yes.”

“I do notwantto be here,” she retorted. “I do notwantto be talking to the prince who told me I’m nothing more than a wilting flower who can die for sport. What Iwant, Your Wickedness, is to get home. So, no, I do not want your help. I simply want to survive long enough to leave this wretched place.”

“You will beg for my help one day,” I said.

“Never.”

She stood from the table and, without waiting for a dismissal, stormed back toward the table for the entertainers.

I watched her go, unable to deny the fact that I wanted nothing more than to make her that angry again.

“Cas,” Alba whispered, drawing my eyes away from Zara. “Are you going to let her speak to you like that?”

My lips curled. “Let her taste a little victory. Her guard will lower. You’ll see. She might be different from the other mortalswho’ve come through here in my lifetime, but they all have a breaking point.”

Alba rested her chin on upraised fists, fighting a smile. “So, you let her go because she’ll think you’re weaker that way? And that helps us?”

I frowned. “I let her go so she could do exactly what she’s doing right now. Watch. She’ll go to the mortals. They’ll beg to know what we talked about. She’s beautiful and bold, and she just spent half the meal talking to us—something none of the other mortals have ever done. They’ll hate her.”

Alba sucked in a breath. “You’re trying to isolate her. I wouldn’t have thought of that. I should write down all your ideas.”

My attention severed from Zara’s retreating form and settled on my sister. “Alba, don’t talk like that.”

Her eyes avoided mine. “I know. It’s just…what if…”

Those two words stung more than iron on my bare skin. Too much rode on those words.

I rested my head in my hands a moment before I met my sister’s gaze. “Don’t worry. Everything will fall together as planned. I promise. All the humans will die, Alba. Father won’t return early.”

Alba pinched her lips in a display of emotion most fae would have kept hidden. She was afraid. “And we’ll be ready when he does?” she asked.

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