Page 85 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

I cocked an eyebrow at that, already feeling heat creep up my neck. “Meaning?”

Ambrose stepped closer, his silver hair a stark contrast against the shadows that played hide and seek across his features. “Meaning, I would be careful to think twice over any decisions you would not normally make. The king is the basest form of our kind, as such, he enjoys a spectacle as much as a cruel trick.”

“Understood,” I replied, though my stomach coiled tight with anxiety. Without magic, every step was a gamble, but for Bael, for Scion, and for my mother, I was willing to play the odds.

34

LONNIE

UNDERNEATH

After only a brief hour’s rest, a knock sounded on our door.

A different red-robed servant, this one with blue-tinted, leathery skin and long spindly fingers, arrived to lead us down to dinner.

Ambrose and I were already ready and waiting to go—having bathed and dressed quickly, in case we were dragged from our room sooner than expected. I’d stuffed myself into the same burgundy gown from the ship, and had brief cause to wonder if Ambrose had always intended me to wear it here, rather than on the boat.

We hadn’t spoken much since he’d warned me we were unable to use magic, except so long as it took him to insist I wear the obsidian crown to dinner.

I got the impression that Ambrose was on edge, feeling crippled by his inability to see prophecies. I was only just starting to realize how many visions the rebel king must see at any one time. I remembered what Bael had told me about Queen Celia going effectively blind toward the end of her life, and wondered if that would be Ambrose’s future as well.

For my part, I was a torrent of mixed emotions. I was desperate to look for Bael, Scion, and my mother, and simultaneously terrified to leave this room. If we were caught searching for them, and ended up in the dungeon ourselves, then…well, I didn’t see it likely that I would be rescued from a dungeon by a prince two times in the same lifetime.

I practically shookas we walked down to dinner—somehow terrified that I’d blurt our plans by mistake.

The obsidian crown felt too heavy on my head, and despite my insistence that I could handle this, that I wanted to help, I didn’t feel particularly adept or royal when surrounded by the all too foreign walls of Underneath.

I couldn’t help but let my gaze sweep over the opulence that surrounded us—vaulted ceilings reaching into shadows, tapestries that told of ancient victories and tragedies, and statues of fairies caught mid-flight, their faces twisted in expressions of rapture or agony. The only sounds were our footsteps, and the notes of some ethereal melody that seemed to bleed from the very walls.

We reached the ground floor, and stopped in front of a set of black obsidian double doors, almost identical to those of the Everlast palace. I cast Ambrose a sideways glance, wishing I could speak out loud to ask why there were so many similarities between here and the capital.

Was it simply because the obsidian palace was originally built by the Unseelie king, perhaps in the image of his own home? Or was there another reason behind the similarities?

The dining room doors swung open with an almost ceremonial gravitas, revealing a hall so grand it would’ve put the obsidian palace to shame. The ceilings towered so high it was hard to tell if they opened to the sky, or if they were simply painted to resemble distant stars. In the corner, sat a golden—robed string quartet, but they were not playing. In the center of the room, was a long table, so laden with food it could have fed an army—or at least a small battalion of gluttonous nobles.

The golden silverware gleamed, and crystal goblets stood poised to catch the light, fracturing into a thousand dancing reflections. Platters overflowed with fruits that shone like jewels, meats roasted to a succulent sheen, and pastries that were airy puffs of temptation. There were dishes I couldn’t even name, exotic concoctions that promised flavors as complex as the politics of this cursed court.

We walked in and sat down at the table. No one moved to touch any of the food, and I followed their lead. My stomach growled loudly, and I pressed my fingers to my abdomen, willing it to be quiet.

Servers appeared, carrying huge ceramic pitchers. One stopped behind my chair. “Wine, my lady?”

I swallowed a lump in my throat, remembering how I too had once carried a pitcher like that. How I’d spilled it across Scion’s boots, in what felt like another lifetime. “No, thank you.”

Beside me, Ambrose accepted his own wine with a whispered “thank you,” through his mask.

Finally I could not keep silent any longer. “How are you going to eat with that thing on?”

He turned to me, and though I could not see his face, I knew he was scowling. “I’ll take it off when the king arrives. He knows what I look like.”

“Where is the king?” I asked pointedly.

“He likes to make an entrance.”

I bit back a snort. Of course he did. What fairy did not?

A hush descended upon the room, thickening the air with expectation, or perhaps dread. My heart danced a nervous rhythm.

That’s when he entered.

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