Page 7 of Curse of Thorns
I blink several times, trying to wrap my mind around it. We fought fifteen of the strongest fae, one from each court, in a brutal competition. The winner was chosen to enter the Schorchedlands in order to save us all. Inside those walls, among the souls of evil fae, is a cure to the curse plaguing our lands. But the one who won the games... cannot enter.
That’s interesting. And potentially bad. Really, really bad.
If all of this was for nothing, if there’s no hope for us to retrieve the cure, our world is doomed. And for Rev personally...
He needed to win the trails to prove his place in his own court or risk being outed as a bastard. His father has quietly worked to get him out of the way without his dirty business—his queen’s apparent affair—coming to light. For many years, he’s worked to undermine Rev’s ability to rule by spreading rumors and belittling him in front of his people. Now that Rev won the trials, there’s no hope such small actions could turn the people against their beloved prince.
“Do you think your father could be behind it?” I ask.
Rev blinks. “How? Why?”
“He hates that you won. He wants you to look the fool... He wants to find any reason to disinherit you.”
Worse than losing the trials and his princely status, if he were to fail in hisresponsibilityto save the realm... his father would have all the ammo he needs. If he cannot enter the Schorchedlands, he will be considered a failure. Everyone will blame him. Thousands of deaths will be on his hands.
He considers this, face crumpled in concentration. It’s adorable, actually. “But would he really put the entire realm at risk in order to achieve it?”
I bite my lip. “Maybe he’ll wait for your failure to be exposed then orchestrate a solution—I don’t know, let Drake get through so he’ll be the savior instead of you. It would bypass me as the runner up too.”
Rev shakes his head. “That’s quite a conspiracy.”
I chuckle. It is. And yet I wouldn’t put it past these wicked men. But I nod. “You’re right, there are probably more realistic options to consider first.”
I wonder if the gate does not recognize Rev as the winner of the trials. It was a fairly controversial ending. I beat our opposition and then gave the win to the magically drained Reveln because he’d sacrificed his chance to win to save Raven’s life.
Perhaps, to the gate, I am the rightful savior.
That would imply some kind of magical bargain the High Court made with the gate itself, and I’m unsure if that’s even possible, let alone likely. Does the gate actually care who won?
It does seem to care who enters.
My next thought is that Rev is too... pure. Too good for that place. It is hell, after all. The message wasthe one who enters must belong. My theoretical translation: the soul of the being allowed to pass must belong in that wicked place.
Rev isn’t exactly a saint, though, so even that seems outlandish.
These two theories are still problematic because, even if someone else could enter and retrieve the cure, Rev would still be considered a failure. He’d be the fae who should have saved the realm and left them to die, forcing another to save them.
“So, now what?” I say softly.
“I’m working with the queen for a solution and, well, stalling.”
“Do you have any theories?”
“Some. None I like.”
I bite my lip and nod. I look out the window, to the lands beyond this one. I came straight here from the human world because I wanted to give the king of the Luminescent Court a message, but I do have something quite important to do before my banishment is reinstated.
I haven’t been free in the fae realm in a decade.
As a child, I had one goal. One wish. All I wanted, truly wanted, was to be a full member of the Shadow Court.
I was trapped into the Night Bringer’s web before I reached even my first rite of passage. If I completed those two, I’d be invited to the Shadow Castle to meet the Queen of the Whisperwood. The castle is ancient and massive, a relic of the time our court was powerful, rather than poverty-ridden.
I’d be invited now, if only I could make my way across the realm. I could fuel it with my magic—a gift from the very creature that destroyed my life. My pain could give the court I love life for a little while at least.
I sniff. Ironically enough, those rites of passage I was barred from as a child were two of the tasks we completed during the trials. Now, all that’s left is being welcomed by the queen inside her throne room.
I’ve met my queen, a few times now, but never in our own court. And I still have never set foot inside my own court’s palace. I long, more than anything else, to go there. To see it for myself. The history of our people. The remnants of our pride, our power that was taken from us so long ago.
