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)
“Why?”
“So he’ll fall in love with you, of course,” he says.
I grunt. “You overestimate me.”
Hale grins. “You underestimate the allure of a beautiful human girl. I need him to show you his Hall of Doors. If we can’t find the sword, the Hall is our only way to give Jasalyn a direct portal to the Eloran Palace.”
I frown. “We don’t even know if the Hall of Doors is more than a legend.”
“The Halls are real. The Unseelie Court lost theirs when the queen took the crown from Mordeus, which leaves the Seelie and the Wild Fae.”
In which case, the choice is obvious. “How do you know this?”
“While you’ve been hiding in the shadow court, Shae’s been investigating. We’ve learned a lot since you left.”
I flinch at the name of my old crush. He was always by my brother’s side and yet always out of reach. Then I was sent to the oracle, and for a moment after I returned, I thought maybe he might feel something for me too. But then I had to run—had to hide to protect my family—and Shae never came to find me.
I fold my arms in front of my chest, as if I can hold my heart together. “Okay, so assuming he’s right, even the legend says that the courts hold the locations of their Halls as sacred. King Misha wouldn’t hand it over to a human princess—no matter what good ties he holds with her court.”
Hale smirks. “Then I guess you have some work to do.”
“Please tell me you’re not resting the future of the realm on my ability to seduce a faerie king.”
This earns me a crooked smile from Natan.
“We’ll be looking for the sword,” Hale says. “I know what the oracle showed me and have every faith we’ll find our way to where we need to be. That said”—he waves up and down to indicate my general form—“the princess has been missing from the palace for several hours now, and the longer she’s gone, the more closely they’ll investigate her on her return.”
I scowl at him. “Then maybe you should take her back.” Of course he waited until he’d already captured her to tell me his plan.
“Wrap up any business you need to this afternoon and then get some sleep.” He presses several strands of hair into my open palm. “We’ll be back tomorrow to take you to meet the princess. If you have any questions before making your grand return to the palace, that will be your chance.”
“She’s truly agreed to help you?” I ask. Jasalyn was a human from Elora before she was the shadow princess, so she would’ve been raised to believe the Elora Seven were the saviors nearly everyone else in the realm believes they are. “She’s agreed to slay the leader of the Seven just because you asked?”
“She doesn’t know all the details yet.” He shrugs. “But she will, and when she does, I’m confident she’ll get on board.”
Typical Hale. “And if she refuses?”
He leans over and flicks my nose. “Don’t worry so much, sister. The oracle has been asked, and she has answered.” He turns for the door, Natan his silent shadow. “See you in the morning.”
After the door clangs closed behind them, I can only stare at the strands of hair in my palm.
I’m not like my brother. He rushes in to save the day because he believes the hero wins and fate is the reward the good guy gets at the end. I used to believe that too—until my biological father found out I was alive and the soldiers he sent looking for me slaughtered the man who raised me. I’ve seen the cost of fate and know it’s not always worth paying.
But if Hale is working with Jasalyn, maybe the tides have finally turned.
Could Jasalyn truly have the power to take out Erith, Patriarch of the Seven? Could she be my way home and prevent Hale’s life from being cut far too short?
I wish I could have a fraction of Hale’s optimism, but it doesn’t come that easily to me. I’ll do this anyway, because I owe it to my brother to try. I owe it to the whole realm.
Chapter Four
Jasalyn
I WAKE TO THE SOUND of a crackling fire and the soft scuff of footsteps. The smell of something sweet and spicy hangs in the air and reminds me of my childhood, like Sunday mornings before Mom left. I can almost imagine her standing at the stove stirring porridge for our breakfast and telling Abriella a story.
I’m scared to open my eyes. I’m warm and the bed beneath me is so soft. But no amount of denial is going to return me to a house we lost, and no amount of wishing is going to bring my mom back.
When I open my eyes, I find myself in a cozy cabin. A trio of males sit with their backs to me, facing the glow of the fire, each with a mug in his hand. They’re speaking in low murmurs I can’t make out. In the corner opposite this bed, there’s a window over a washing basin. But no light streams in.