Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Not everything is about money, mortal.” Bakken narrows his eyes and cocks his head to the side. “In this world of yours, I’d think you’d be glad to have one less mouth to feed, but you look . . . heartbroken? Curious.”
I clench my fists at my sides. Goblins are known for their ability to move between the realms and for collecting information. They’re not known for their compassion. “Where?”
“Let it go, Fire Girl. You don’t want the fate that awaits you in Faerie.”
“I want my sister back. Tell me where you took her. Please.”
“What will you give me for that information?”
The word anything sits on the tip of my tongue like a piece of sour fruit. I want to spit it out, but goblins are very literal. I know better than to offer more than I can give. “A lock of my hair.”
“Ah, but I’d prefer to have all of your hair.” He reaches out, but drops his hand before touching me. “It would make such a beautiful scarf. What could I make with a mere lock?”
“What could you make with nothing?”
He grins, but I see the greed in his eyes, the glint of desperation. “Show me how much.”
I take some between my fingers and hold it out for his inspection. “From here,” I say, pointing to a spot on the lock just beneath my eye, “to the end.” Jas used to wear her hair with shorter pieces that framed her face. I always loved the way it drew attention to her eyes. But I wouldn’t dare let Bakken know I won’t miss what I’m offering; he’d only demand more.
“Yes, that’ll do.” Before I can draw another breath, he has a knife in his hand, and he takes my hair with one slice of his blade.
I bite back my gasp at his speed. “Tell me.”
“I brought her to the king’s emissary in the traders’ market who was to escort her to the king. Madame Vivias couldn’t refuse the sum the traders offered.”
The king? My blood turns to ice in my veins, and I freeze all the way to my bones. “What king?”
“The emissary took her to His Highness, King Mordeus,” he says, “who paid a great deal to purchase your sister’s life.”
No. It can’t be. Buying or stealing my sister back from some random faerie is one thing, but getting her back from a fae king—from Mordeus, the Unseelie ruler, the shadow king himself? Where mortals consider the Seelie to be the “good” fae, the Unseelie kingdom is most dangerous and most lethal to humans. Their king has a reputation for finding pleasure in torturing creatures of all kinds. Humans who go to that kingdom rarely come back. If they do, they return as catatonic husks of themselves. On the other hand, this is the king who has countless human slaves. Perhaps he wouldn’t even notice if she went missing. “One human girl’s as good as the next. Why didn’t the king buy one of those girls who wants to go to Faerie?”
“Because he wants Jasalyn Kincaid, sister of the Fire Girl, daughter of the beautiful mortal who—”
“I know who my sister is,” I snap. This has to be a nightmare. It doesn’t make sense. “Why does he want her? Why Jasalyn?”
“It’s not mine to question the king. Perhaps he wants to make her his queen.” His sigh might pass for dreamy if his expression weren’t so . . . hungry. “Maybe he just loves her beautiful chestnut hair.”
“If he doesn’t want money, what does he want? What kind of payment can I offer?”
He taps one long, dirty fingernail against his front teeth. “King Mordeus cares for nothing more than securing his seat on the throne.”
I shake my head. “He’s the king. Why would he need to secure anything?”
“But some say he isn’t, not truly. Mordeus stole the throne from his brother many years ago and waits for the day when his nephew—Prince Finnian, son of King Oberon and rightful heir to the Throne of Shadows—emerges from exile to claim his crown. His subjects wait too. Some have pledged loyalty to the king and will fight to keep him in power. Others believe that the Unseelie Court is dying because of Mordeus’s trickery and that it won’t recover until the rightful heir is on the throne with Oberon’s crown.”
I normally wouldn’t care at all about Faerie politics, but I make myself tuck this information away in case it proves useful later. “What does this have to do with getting Jas back?”
His lips peel back from his yellowed, pointy teeth in a smile. “Do not underestimate King Mordeus. He does nothing by accident. Every choice he makes is about power—his power.”
I can’t wrap my head around it. Jasalyn’s never had dealings with the fae—at least none that I know of. What kind of power could the king get by enslaving her? Could this have something to do with our mother? But that doesn’t make sense. If, for some reason, the king requested her for our mother, wouldn’t she want both her daughters, not just her youngest? And why would she suddenly care about us after nine years? “Take me to my sister. Please.”