Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
I can just imagine them all sitting around and contemplating my death so casually. I toss a scowl over my shoulder.
Misha chuckles. “What’s the problem?”
“You knew. That’s why you brought me here. You figured it out before any of them.”
“My spies told me of the power you’d wielded at the Golden Palace, and then I saw you in action at the camp. I didn’t know for sure, of course, but my niece visited me in a dream the night we met at the refugee camp—she’s a seer, as you know.”
“Lark,” I whisper. Funny how this vast new world seems so small. I’d already forgotten that Misha is Lark’s uncle.
He nods. “Yes. She said Sebastian didn’t have what he needed to take the throne and that you were running. She asked me to give you a place to hide until you were stronger. So between the great power you’d demonstrated and her prophecy, I drew the obvious conclusion. Once Storm showed me the throne rejecting Sebastian, my suspicions were confirmed.”
“So when you say Finn and Sebastian are fighting over me, this is what you mean. They need my power.” Just as they fought to win my loyalty when I wore the crown. This will never end.
“I think it’s more complicated than that, but on the most basic level, yes. The throne wouldn’t accept Sebastian, because he doesn’t have the power, and it won’t accept Finn, because he doesn’t have the crown or the power. And obviously it won’t accept you, because—”
“Because I’m barely even fae, let alone Unseelie royalty.”
“Well, yes.” He shrugs. “But even if you were, Sebastian still wears the crown. Regardless of how this ends, those brothers need you if the Unseelie Court is going to hold together.”
“They need to kill me again?” I spin around and stalk toward the table, hysterical laughter bubbling from between my lips. “Once wasn’t enough?”
Misha refills his wineglass. “That’s not remotely what I’m suggesting.”
“I never asked for any of this.”
He narrows his eyes. “We’ve been over that already. None of us asks for the burdens we bear, but that doesn’t make the way we handle them any less significant.”
“Why can’t they just make a new throne?”
He grunts. “A throne isn’t just a seat, Princess. It’s a metaphor, and its magic is stronger than you can imagine.”
“That’s why you’re helping me,” I say softly, resigned. I reach for the bottle of wine and refill my own glass. Maybe it’s poisoned. Maybe this is all some wicked scheme to kill me so he can take my power and hand it over to Finn—Misha’s sister was married to Finn’s brother, after all. They’re practically family. Or maybe Misha wants the power for himself. I look him in the eye and bring the glass to my lips, hesitating.
“It’s not poisoned. I have no interest in killing you. As I mentioned, we’re in uncharted territory here. It’s hard to know what would happen if you died.”
I roll my eyes and take a sip. “How reassuring.”
“I need you, but even if Sebastian had the crown and the power and were sitting on that throne right at this moment, I would still need you. The Unseelie realm is deeply divided. Mordeus’s followers weren’t loyal to him so much as to the way he ruled. His unfair laws and punishments favored the elite few, and that’s exactly what they wanted.”
“The elite few?” I frown. “I thought the masses were behind Mordeus, and that’s why Oberon couldn’t take his rightful place as ruler when he returned from the mortal realm.”
“The masses weren’t behind Mordeus,” Misha says, sounding resigned. “The masses were dying in that damn war. But the vocal minority was behind him, and they had power and influence of their own. They supported Mordeus when he stole the throne from Oberon, because they knew Finn was dedicated to the commoners—his rule would’ve redistributed the power and privilege in their court. Mordeus’s followers were willing to launch a civil war to avoid that, and I’d bet they still would be, wherever they are. Sebastian doesn’t even have that.”
I frown and try to bite back the question, but if I’ve learned anything from my goblin friend, Bakken, it’s that information is power. “They still would be? What do you mean by that?”
Misha shrugs. “I mean they’re in hiding. After you killed the false king, his followers fled, fearing Finn would bring his secret legions down on the palace. But wherever they are, they’ll be back.”
“Finn has secret legions? As in military?” Is that the Cursed Horde they mentioned in the vision?
Misha leans back in his chair and studies me. “What do you think Finn spent the last twenty years doing? He’s been gathering his forces in the mountains, training them, preparing for the possibility that the crown might be lost forever and he’d have to oust Mordeus from ruling without it.”