Page 69 of The Cursed Crown

They crossed the border of the Court of Sunlight, and rode past Rissa's Darker Woods, before reaching the edge of the Old Keep.

Rydekar was controlled, calculating, careful in all things. Yet, he'd dropped his guard once in the last decade. Just once.

For a pair of big, pretty eyes.

The frozen lake around the keep had been thawed, and virulent waves crashed against the shores, overflowing the bridge with water. In the depth of the dark waters, sharp-toothed selkies and sirens watched them, grinning at the prospect of a fresh meal.

To say that the Old Keep had been taken would misplace the blame. No, he'd handed it to Havryll.

The servant of the High Sea Queen, Nyla.

Imagining that a child so young could rule courts wilder, darker than his—and had done so since her first breath, communicating her orders telepathically—was mind boggling, but he knew it for a fact now. Not only because of Siobhe's confession; he'd managed to track and torture enough ensorcelled victims of her wiles to be certain.

Nyla had released members of the Sea Land Courts into Denarhelm, wearing human sigils, sowing false trails. Through spells and potions released in the wells, she'd controlled the weaker souls of her courts, like a spider carefully weaving her net for years until she was ready to feast on her prey.

She'd chosen the wrong quarry.

"How do we get back to the keep?" the real Sura asked.

To say that the queen was pissed that a woman like Siobhe had used her identity to attempt to trick him was putting it mildly. The trail of curses that had flown out of her mouth would have made a sailor blush.

"Do we have to?" Gaulder shrugged. "If she's isolated out there, what does it matter?"

"It matters because all of the unseelie lords, ladies, and most of the folk who wished to come to safety are in there with her. And so are plenty of seelie fae," Rydekar stated through gritted teeth.

"And we need to kill the bitch."

He nodded at Sura. That, too.

Reaching the keep wouldn't be easy, with a mile of sea separating them from its island.

"We have company."

A dozen archers drew their bows toward the oncoming shadow. It was too large for a bird, too fast for Morgan or any of her air spies.

Rydekar frowned. "Stand down." He couldn't quite make sense of what his squinting eyes were telling him, but the words spilled out nonetheless.

Fast—faster than should have been possible—the creature landed right at his side, wings curved around her body, hitting the ground so hard his horse bucked.

Rissa.

Only this wasn't his Rissa. This wasn't the girl who'd gone north mere days ago. Her clothes were drenched with blood and sweat; her boots, muddy; her skin, dirty and scraped in places. She'd been hurt, cut, broken. More than that, she'd been changed.

Freed.

She wore a crown like she was born to it, without pride, without noticing it, without mistaking it as a reward when it was a duty, a burden.

This was the seelie queen. His mate. His equal, light to his darkness, fire to his steel.

She reached her hand out to him wordlessly. Taking it, he helped her mount his grumpy horse.

Rissa pressed her lips against the skin of his cheek, fleetingly, for the briefest of instants, and all his pain and fatigue disappeared.

"Forward," she ordered, not bothering to raise her voice.

Rydekar obeyed. The unseelie army obeyed. The seelie folk listened totheir ruler, and marched upon the open sea.

Rydekar was the first to reach it. His horse’s hooves hit a solid surface he couldn't even see under the wave. He stared over his horse's back.

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