Page 7 of Crowned By the Shadow
“We should leave before dawn,” Thorn said, laying out our weapons. “The journey to the capital will take most of tomorrow if we push hard.”
I nodded, studying the crude map Van had sketched of the palace grounds, committing to memory the hidden entrance he’d marked, a servants’ passage rarely used since the last royal celebration.
“Are you sure about this?” Volker asked quietly, coming to sit beside me. “The Mirror is crucial, yes, but walking back into Fenvalur’s domain...”
“I don’t have a choice.” I traced the burn on my palm, now wrapped in healing herbs Thorn had gathered. “The goddess chose me for this task. I can’t fail her or Wyn.”
Volker’s expression softened. “You carry too much on your shoulders, Senara.”
“Who else would carry it?” I asked, not expecting an answer.
Later, as the others slept, I sat alone at the edge of the clearing, gazing up at the moon. Its light seemed to fill me, resonating with the marks that spiraled across my skin.
“Who are you?” I whispered to the night, thinking of that voice that had called me daughter. “Why now, after all these years?”
Only silence answered me, but as I watched, a single moonbeam seemed to intensify, illuminating the Veilshard Pendant where it lay beside me. I reached for it cautiously, wrapping it in cloth before picking it up.
The pendant pulsed once in my hand, and I felt that connection again—not to Wyn this time, but to that mysterious presence in the capital. It felt different now, less intrusive, almost...waiting.
Tomorrow we would begin our separate journeys, Thorn and I to face whatever traps Fenvalur had laid, Van and Volker to infiltrate the domain of the Shadow Dragons. Both paths were fraught with danger, but both were necessary.
I closed my eyes, drawing strength from the moonlight, and made a silent promise to Wyn.
Hold on. We’re coming for you.
Chapter
Three
Senara
The journey back to the fae capital passed in tense silence. Thorn and I kept to the shadows, avoiding the main roads and feral fae with an ease that surprised me. Perhaps the goddess truly was watching over us. Whatever the reason, we reached the outer area of the fae courts without incident.
“This is it,” I whispered, pointing to a weathered stone archway partially hidden by climbing vines. It matched Volker’s description perfectly, a servant's entrance rarely used since the last royal celebration.
Thorn squeezed my shoulder. “Ready?”
I nodded, though my heart hammered against my ribs. The stolen servant uniforms we’d acquired from a clothesline in a nearby village hung loosely on our frames, but they’d serve their purpose. We’d been lucky to find one that fit Thorn at all.
The only problem we were still worried about were our marks. Thorn had made a makeshift eye patch to help hide his, but mine was too big. We had done some artful arranging of my hair to hide as much of it as we could, but it was still a problem if anyone looked at me for more than a split second.
We slipped through the entrance, keeping our heads down as we joined the steady stream of staff preparing for the evening meal. No one spared us a second glance, just two more bodies among the dozens hurrying through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace.
“Left here,” I murmured, recognizing the ornate molding that marked the transition from the common areas to the healers’ wing. My skin crawled as familiar scents filled my nostrils—herbs, tinctures, and that peculiar sterile smell that always clung to Fenvalur’s chambers. It had never failed to sicken me that Fenvalur’s experiments were conducted so close to fae who claimed to want nothing more than to help people.
We paused at an intersection, waiting for a group of chattering apprentice healers to pass before continuing down the corridor. Each step brought back memories of endless tests, the experiments, Fenvalur’s clinical gaze as he studied my responses.
“That’s it,” I said, nodding toward an unassuming door at the end of the hallway. “Fenvalur’s private chambers.”
The door was unlocked, a sign of his arrogance or perhaps his certainty that no one would dare enter without permission. We slipped inside, and I fought the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm me as I took in the familiar surroundings. The meticulous shelves lined with labeled specimens. The desk covered in neat stacks of notes. The examination table where I’d spent countless hours as he probed the limits of my abilities.
“The Mirror wouldn’t be here,” Thorn whispered, his eyes scanning the room. “This is just his workspace.”
“No,” I agreed, moving toward a tapestry on the far wall. “But the entrance to his private study is.”
We took a step forward and Fenvalur seemed to appear in front of us like magic. I had sensed no surge in power, but thenagain, this was his private wing and there was more than one way for a mage to get around.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” The cold, precise voice sliced through the air like a scalpel. My blood froze as stared at him wide-eyed.
