Page 27 of The Midnight Death Match

“Her ally. Reluctantly yours too, as you’re on her side.”

Harek takes a step toward him, his face flushing with anger.

I yank him back. “Stop.”

Lysandros smirks at Harek. “You’d be wise to listen to your girl.”

Einar steps in front of both of us. “What do you know about Eira?”

“I already told you.”

“You haven’t told us anything. If you’ve been studying her in ancient tomes, you’re leaving out a lot of important details. Spill them.” My father whips out his sword in one quick motion, pointing it at the noble fae.

He doesn’t so much as flinch. In fact, he appears annoyingly amused. Then he turns to face me, his expression not mocking, but rather expectant. “It begins.”

My grip tightens around the hilt, and the sword’s glow fades. “Stop talking in riddles.”

“I’d hoped it would recognize me.” His voice is as smooth as still water. “But it seems you’ve claimed it completely.”

“What are you talking about?” I step closer to him, but my father puts a firm hand on my shoulder. I shirk away from his grip.

Lysandros tilts his head. “Tyra did love her secrets.”

I hesitate. “You knew her?”

“Iwatchedher. There’s a difference. She never let anyone close.” He turns his attention toward Einar. “Or did she? Things changed when she met that horrific human.”

My father growls, bristles. “She left for good reason.”

Lysandros offers a faint, sharp smile. “Of course she did. The curse doesn’t like the company of another curse. You two never could’ve been together, could you?”

My pulse quickens. “You called me blood-bound. What does that mean? Bound by the curses that both my parents gave to me?”

He walks a slow arc through the glade, hands behind his back. “It means you’re tied to a choice older than your bloodlines. Older than the courts, older than war.”

“I’m not interested in your riddles.”

“And yet the riddles seem interested in you.”

I glare at him. “If you know something about the curse, then say it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

He stops in front of the spring, and his reflection dances like it doesn’t quite belong.

“You’re not cursed, Eira. Not exactly. You’re the lock that was meant to keep the curse contained. Your birth was the final seal. And now…” He looks up, meeting my eyes. “…the key is waking.”

The hairs on my arms rise.

Harek appears at my side, his face even redder now. “What does that mean? She told you to stop talking in riddles!”

Lysandros ignores him. “Courtsview stirs. They now call the once gleaming city a dead and broken city. Its darkness recognizes you, and it’s calling you.”

It takes me a moment to recall the fae city I heard about when Harek and I arrived in Mirendel. The place people whispered had fallen to shambles because of the hunter—my father—weakening because of me coming into my powers.

“What do we do?” My voice is barely audible.

Lysandros glances between Einar and me. “You have to try something no one ever has.” He nods toward Einar. “Fight together, not against each other to the death.”

Einar’s jaw tenses. “You’re playing with prophecy like it’s a game board.”

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