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)
“You could’ve told me all this before we came here. You could’ve asked me instead of asking Sebastian, as if I’m nothing more than a horse you want to borrow for a few days.”
He shrugs. “It was more fun this way.”
Sighing, I turn my gaze to the gates and the throng of fae beyond them. “There are so many of them,” I say. “What keeps them from rushing the gates?”
“They could if they truly wanted to,” Finn says. “Sebastian’s guard holds a shield of protection around the Midnight Palace. Those beyond it are prevented from coming in—though if they worked together, they could probably get through it.”
I arch a brow. “Midnight Palace? That’s really what this place is called?”
“The Court of the Moon pulls its power from the night. What better name for the palace than one that honors the moment the moon reaches its highest point?”
“I suppose,” I say, but my mind’s busy contemplating the protesters. “If they could get past the gates, why don’t they?”
Finn sighs. “Right now, their presence is a protest, not a declaration of war. They don’t want to lose any more loved ones. They might not trust Sebastian, but his inaction—the fact that he doesn’t attack or allow his sentinels to go out there and handle them with force—that keeps the protest peaceful. He could wipe out dozens of them with a single strike from behind the safety of this shield.”
I frown. “He won’t.”
“I hope you’re right about that. Your boy’s certainly powerful enough now that the curse is broken.” Finn studies me. “Though not nearly as powerful as you.”
“How will you handle them?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Assuming he agrees to my terms?”
I set my jaw and nod. I expect Sebastian to agree—he’ll do it for those people out there—but I’m not sure yet what I think of the cost.
“I’ll go out there myself,” he says. “They won’t believe it if we send a messenger. They need to see me. To feel my presence and trust that the ruler they’ve waited so long to bring home hasn’t forsaken them.” There’s a sadness in his voice that melts away all the anger from earlier.
“You think you failed them,” I say.
His throat bobs, and he keeps his eyes focused on the horizon. “I know I did.”
I want to argue with him, to convince him that this mess wasn’t his making, but I can tell by the set of his jaw and the distant look in his eyes that there’s something heavier weighing on him. More that I don’t know.
“They want a sign that the power of their court hasn’t been lost.” He turns to me and studies me for long moments before saying, “You could give them that.”
I take a deep breath and stare out at the crowd beyond the gates. With half a thought, I cast out night over them. I make it soft—a blanket of black velvet instead of the abyss of nightmares. Above them, I hang stars so bright they feel close enough to touch. Shivers run up my arms and down my spine—not just because I, too, love the image I’ve given them, but because it feels good to use this power that’s trapped in my veins. Especially when I’m around Finn and I feel so filled with it.
A hush ripples through the crowd as they all look up. I give it everything I can, feeding details from the beautiful nights in my memories—at the beach with my mother, the tail of a shooting star easing my worry. And then I slowly pull it back, letting the sun creep back in as I wind my power back into my center.
When I look at Finn, he’s watching me slack-jawed, something like wonder in his eyes.
“What?”
He shakes his head, and that cocky smirk reappears. “You are . . . incredibly inefficient.”
I gape. “Excuse me?”
He waves into the distance. “What you just did there? That should barely skim the top of your power, but instead of using what you need and saving the rest, you throw it all out there. Like dumping a vat of wine over the whole table just to fill a small glass.”
“I’m so sorry that the way I use my magic isn’t to your liking.”
Finn grunts. “The way you use your magic is wasteful, bordering on irresponsible.” He presses two fingers to the center of his chest. “It comes from here and should be used with focus and precision. You’re spilling energy from every inch of you. It’s like wielding a battering ram when you only need a needle.”
“I haven’t exactly had a lifetime to practice, like some people,” I grouse.
He steps closer and crouches until he’s eye-to-eye with me. “You don’t understand what I’m saying. Magic is life. You need to conserve it. It’s self-preservation.”
“I get it,” I snap.
His expression softens. “I’ll teach you. If you’ll let me.”