Page 65 of Fortress of Blood and Power

I swallowed.That won’t be happening,I promised myself. By solstice, I had to have the crown, or at least some temporary haven away from the castle in which to hide and plot with allies. Anything but a wedding.

“Garrick.” Nerissa tossed her dark hair over one shoulder and snapped her fingers as if summoning a pet. “Escort little Florentia to her rooms and ensure she’s well-guarded.”

While the siblings swept down the hall, Garrick blinked and shook himself, as if coming to. When his eyes met mine, they were his again, full of compassion. “Starlight, I’m sorry they forced you to witness this.”

Keeping my gaze carefully averted from the cell, I sighed. “Take me back to my rooms like they ordered,” I said wearily. My back ached beneath my bandage, reminding me of my wound. “And could you send for Aspen?”

Offering me his arm—the only touch we could share with layers of fabric between our skin—Garrick led me out of the dungeons and through the long corridors and stairwells to my quarters.

Outside my chamber door, I inhaled deeply. Once inside, the enchantments placed upon my rooms would make it impossible for me to use my magic. But here, after a meal without forget-me-nots, I was free to draw on the brittle threads of power stirring in my veins.

Garrick glanced at me, but either not wanting to speak when the guards posted outside my rooms were near or when he saw such concentration etched on my face, he remained silent.

Uncertainty wound through my mind.What if I’m wrong, and more exposure to the flowers can never be overcome?I gritted my teeth. It would have to work. Lifting my hand, I made frost form, glistening in lovely, intricate patterns, across my palm.

I made myself memorize the feeling—the way I was connected to the land. The rush of joy that came from using my power. The sensation of strength.

“Light in the darkness,” Garrick muttered, and I smiled at the way my magic made my hand sparkle in the dim hallway.

When I closed my eyes, I was under a velvet sky again, peering at shimmering constellations.Starlight.Garrick said I was light to his darkness, the same way I was hope to a despairing kingdom. Painful brightness to shadowy underworld creatures. And that was what my magic was to me—my hope, my shining guide in this treacherous world.

Holding onto those thoughts, onto the image of starlight and the feeling of Garrick nearby, offering companionship and safety, I let warmth fill my chest. Those were the memories and feelings I could recall each time I wanted to remember my magic as the forget-me-nots’ influence gripped me. Something tangible when I forgot how my magic felt. Something that, maybe, I could use to ground myself despite Preston and Nerissa’s best efforts to render me ineffective.

Twisting the knob to my rooms, I stepped inside and Garrick followed, doing a quick scan of my chambers as if he thought more assassins might be lying in wait, prepared to murder me. I supposed that wasn’t a far-fetched idea. There were probably as many fae that hated me as there were that hated Preston and Nerissa—perhaps more.

“I’ll fetch Aspen,” Garrick said.

For a moment, we looked at one another, unspoken words passing between us. I wondered if he wanted to reach for me, to comfort me with an embrace after the horror I had witnessed. Then he turned on his heel and vanished out the door.

Alone in my room, I shoved the awful images from my brain, trying not to fixate on how Preston’s death magic had peeled the bones off his victim. No wonder he and his sister had fended off a horde of demons. No wonder they’d been hailed as heroes and protectors of this kingdom in the absence of Silverfrost magic. No wonder they wielded such power, even when rebels were amassing and angry.

But as terrifying as their magic was, as much as I feared I couldn’t stand against them no matter how many allies Aspen had gathered for me, one thought kept echoing in my head. One steadying piece of comfort. If they were drugging me and enchanting my rooms, the siblings were threatened.

They feared what I could do with my magic.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Aspen tended to my wounds on my back and arm again while we discussed what had happened that night. I explained to her the awful encounter I’d had with the rebel in the dungeons, what he’d said, and how Preston had slain him.

“Did you send that assassin?” I asked as I stretched out on my stomach on my bed, allowing her to work on the Stormclaw mark on my back.

Hovering behind me in her high fae size, Aspen scoffed. “Not at all. It was a foolhardy move, doomed to fail. But it’s a powerful reminder that more citizens grow weary of the siblings’ reign. There are reports that Ashwood’s army is pressing toward the capital, even now, yet you’ve seen how they don’t let the messengers speak before their court. They distract with extravagant parties. And we have men and women dying for Preston and Nerissa’s greedy aspirations all while we’re in danger from escaping demons at home. It’s costly enough to build caged wagons to transport demons to the fortress and to hire guards who are willing to risk monitoring the fortress dungeons. It’s also expensive to wage war. Yet instead of being frugal, Preston and Nerissa continue to host feasts.”

I swallowed. “And the death magic...”

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