Page 128 of I Summon the Sea

I don’t want to see Jai standing there; I don’t want to know if he simply walked away. Neither option is helpful. Neither can save the wreck that is my heart.

The strange ache lingers. It feels as if it will never leave me, but of course it will. It’s a passing ailment, one I hadn’t even realized I’d caught, so certain I hated Jai that I didn’t notice myself falling for him.

Even now, it seems impossible that I’d feel so sharply the rejection of a man who is my enemy. Sure, he has kindness in him, and he offhandedly mentioned trying to kill the king, but if he wanted to… he’d have killed the king already.Right?

If he wanted to, he would already be fully on our side.

And yet, my chest feels too tight, restricting my breath. I know that no matter the excuses and the reasons, if he smiled, I’d have smiled back. If he’d opened his arms for me one more time, I’d have walked into them.

I’ve fallen for him. I’m that weak. When did it happen?Howdid it happen?

“Beware of beauty, little human lady.”

Too late for that.

I’m walking so fast the page boy has to almost run to stay ahead of me. “Please, my lady,” he says. “It’s up the stairs here. Slow down so you don’t trip over your dress.”

Sound advice.

Like the sound advice I’ve been giving myself for days, to no avail.

“Fate can’t be undone.”

Stones and Holy Wights.I have to stop thinking about his words before I embarrass myself by crying.

“Hurry up,” I mutter. “We can’t keep the king waiting.”

He casts me a disquieted look. “No, my lady, you’re right.”

Do I look frightening? I clap a hand against my gills, behind one ear. Have I changed in other ways? But no, I would have felt the magic flow, and the well of power inside me is still shuttered and still.

Reining in my impatience, I follow the page boy up a wide set of stairs, mildly curious about the number of staircases in this palace. They seem countless. More marble, more carvings and statues of Eosphors and dragons greet us at every turn.

So many Eosphors. Too many.

Before, I was sensing a pattern. Now, I’m sensing an obsession.

It’s one thing to gather the threads of rumors when it comes to the fae, their history and nature, their customs and beliefs, and quite another to be plunged into their reality, as it turns out. Who knew the king would want to be surrounded by creepy statues of the strange beings?

They are said to be partly made of metal, according to the legends, partly of precious gems and minerals. They don’tthinklike us. Don’tfeellike us.

And Phaethon is one of them.

Higher we climb, until we reach a set of bronze doors. Two winged guards stand on either side, faces hidden behind gilded masks—because of the festival? Because they are more royal than other royal guards? Who knows?

The guards turn and push the heavy doors until they swing inward into a richly appointed hall.

The page boy bows and gestures for me to enter and follows me inside.

Space opens around us like a temple, with marble columns, statues, and narrow windows letting in the light of the phosphorescing Pillar. Lamps hang from the arched ceiling, chandeliers crafted from twisted white horns and blacknightgold, inlaid with clear gems that refract the flames burning inside.

The audience hall.

A high dais stands at the end of the hallway formed by the columns, a black carpet—or marble path?—leading to it. Fae do like their high dais, just as they like their columns and winged statues.

True to form, behind the throne stands a pillar crafted like the royal crest: a serpentine dragon has been carved winding around it, the tall marble crown on its head a match for the crown sitting on the king’s golden head.

Because there he is, on the throne, though his hair looks more silver than gold as I approach—and yes, the path leading to the high daisismarble, hard and unforgiving under my shoes.

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