Page 101 of Promise of Darkness
“Maybe Ishouldmake him grovel.”
“On his knees,” Thalia suggests, with a wicked grin that reminds me of the prince so badly, I feel a little twinge somewhere in the vicinity of my chest.
“Now I know the pair of you are related.”
She laughs, then pushes to her feet and stretches. “Come on! Let’s go raid the kitchen. The head spriggan is an old friend, and I smelled the delicious waft of some of her pastries as I was heading up here.”
* * *
That night,there’s a knock on my bedroom door.
“Come in,” I call.
I was expecting Thalia, come to bring me a cup of warmed milk and honey, but the prince strides in as if he’s master of my bedchamber.
He pauses by the window, hands clasped behind his back. I owe him a kiss, but I’ve always been careful to ensure it occurs in the dining room, or the library, or even the ballroom.
Never here, where the presence of the bed ensures an unsettling tension settles over the room.
“What did you want?” I can’t forget our earlier argument, or the way he stormed out. Nor can I forget the aftermath of what happened in the tower.
And neither does he, judging by the heated look in his eyes.
“I won’t apologize,” he says. “I have my people to think of. Every fae in this world will suffer if thisleanabh an dànisn’t found before Angharad can get her hands on him or her.”
I close the book with a sharp little snap. “And I won’t apologize for what I said either. I do think the life of one child, one soul, is worth more than a sacrifice. Surely there has to be some other way to prevent this.”
“Which is why I’m here,” he tells me. “I will give you two weeks to help me find thisleanabh an dànbefore I decide its fate—”
“Beforeyoudecide?” Incredible.
His eyes light with wicked fire. “Beforewedecide its fate. To do that, we need to know more about Angharad’s plans.”
“Your friend Cian can’t tell you?”
“He’s currently busy,” Thiago replies, “and I don’t want to risk his deception within the Unseelie court.”
Interesting. Cian must be highly placed in the Unseelie world if he’s close to Angharad.
Slinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I sit up. “Then how are we to discover her plans?”
“We’re going to Stormhaven,” he says.
Another slap in the face.
Prince Kyrian rules the Isle of Stormhaven. “Do you… think that’s wise?”
“Kyrian’s met you in the past. You were never friends, but he won’t harm you. Not unless he wants to face me.”
“But why Stormhaven?”
“Can I trust you not to share this information with your mother?”
“Right now,” I reply coldly, “the only things I want to share with my mother are my thoughts on this entire arrangement. Loudly. I’m not her little puppet anymore. I’m no one’s puppet”—this with a warning glare in his direction—"and she hasn’t bothered to contact me again.”
He leans back against the doors. “Kyrian is the Master of Storms. He has a device that can see and listen through any droplet of water in the realms. He can spy on Angharad for me.”
That’s a powerful weapon in the wrong hands, because, while I’ve heard of sorcerers being able to use mirrors for such a purpose, you can always ward them.
