Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
I snatch it from the air. I know its contents without opening it. More than enough hair for many months as the princess.
If I’m lucky, when this is all over, I might be able to see my own face in the mirror.
Chapter Seven
Felicity
THE MIDNIGHT PALACE IS HAUNTINGLY beautiful, as if the Unseelie ancestors who built it centuries ago were trying to play on the rumors their enemy court had spread about them. That the Unseelie were darkness and nightmares. They were wicked and cruel. So they built a palace that would meld with the night sky, the crushed black quartz walls shimmering alongside the stars when the moon shines.
I half expected to be spotted by sentinels on my way here, but they must be searching for the princess elsewhere, because I don’t catch any attention until I arrive at the gates. I lower my hood and meet the gaze of the males positioned there. Jasalyn gave me the names and descriptions of half a dozen sentinels who might be positioned at the gates at this hour, and I hold my breath as I nod to each of them. “Horice. Gilberd,” I say. “Good to see you both.”
Their eyes go wide, and they exchange a look. “Princess, what are you doing beyond the gates?”
Princess Jasalyn, the human girl who ranks second only to the great shadow queen, is missing, and the palace hasn’t told a soul, not even their own sentinels.
I dismount and hand Horice the reins to my horse. “I needed a change of scenery.”
He clears his throat, and they step aside for me. “Yes. Of course. We’ll get a stable hand to take care of this mare for you.”
I’ve never been to the Midnight Palace before, and I’m surprised to find how stunning the grounds are. I follow cobblestone paths through manicured gardens interspersed with torches I can easily imagine glowing after dark.
When I reach the palace, I enter through the servants’ quarters, just as Jas instructed me to do, my boots thudding softly on the black-veined marble floor as I make my way deeper into the palace—past a bustling kitchen and a steaming laundry.
I continue down the hall and hesitate outside the small family dining room, where I was told I’d find the queen with King Consort Finnian. They’re there with a female I don’t know but who favors the Wild Fae king in coloring and bone structure. From the information Jas gave me, I’d have to guess she’s Pretha, sister to Misha and one of the shadow queen’s advisors and closest friends.
I hesitate at the door, taking a moment to register the tension in the room.
I can sense the queen’s anguish. Her desperation.
She grips her fork, but her food is untouched, and there are dark circles under her eyes, as if she hasn’t slept in the day and a half since her sister left the palace.
If I weren’t so desperate for Jasalyn to do what my brother believes she can, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t take this risk. I am physically the princess, but with only a handful of her memories and the hour or so of information she gave me this afternoon, I fear her sister will see right through me.
I take a deep breath. “Abriella,” I say softly, taking a step into the room.
Her fork clatters to the table, and chaos erupts in the room. Chairs groan against the stone floors as they’re shoved back. Finnian stands, and Pretha presses a hand to her chest, relief washing over her fine features.
It’s tempting to study the room, to stare in wonder at these people tapped to be the queen’s inner circle, but I keep my focus on the queen. She has tears in her eyes, and her bottom lip trembles. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
The queen stands. “Leave us. I need to speak with my sister alone.”
Pretha gives me a pitying smile. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she says before gracefully floating from the room.
Finnian whispers something in the queen’s ear.
She nods and whispers, “I know,” squeezing both of his hands.
When he leaves, he doesn’t give me the pitying smile that Pretha did, and he doesn’t scowl the way I sense he’d like to, but the look in his eyes is somehow a combination of pity and anger. I’m grateful that Jasalyn is the type that would bow her head to avoid holding his gaze, because dropping my eyes to the floor is a relief.
While the tap of their steps grows ever more distant, I wander to a small sitting area by the windows and lower myself onto a settee, looking out at the gardens glowing in the evening sun.
Only when the queen’s ragged sob rips into the silence do I turn. She’s kneeling at my feet, head bowed.
The shadow queen is on her knees, bowing before me.