Page 132 of Crown of Darkness
My shoulders slump. “When I was a little girl, my childhood nurse used to read to me. There was a book. A collection of stories from the time of the wars. My mother had the book burned when she caught my nurse reading it to us, and she had nurse’s eyes plucked and her tongue removed, so she could never spread such lies again.”
“You sounded almost like your mother for a moment. The truth, Iskvien. From your lips.”
I turn back to her. “The truth lies on the lips of the victor, does it not? And my mother’s people wrote the history books. They burned the stories that didn’t speak their truth or paint the world the way they want us to see it. I’ve always wondered whether those tales Nanny Redwyne read to us are true. The Old Ones are powerful and dangerous, but they could be bargained with. The creatures that existed before the fae arrived were not evil, merely cruel and capricious. And if you kept your wits about you, there’s no reason the Old Ones couldn’t help you. I wanted to know what the truth was. I believed those stories. I thought I could trust her.”
“And the answer to that?”
“I made a mistake. Perhaps for once in her life, my mother spoke the truth.”
She sniffs the air. “I think I know why you made that bargain, Iskvien. You practically reek of old magic. I think I know why you were drawn to those stories. You could sense it, couldn’t you? You’ve always been drawn to the forest, the darker the better. You’ve always heard the whisper through the stones beneath your feet, the power banked in the ley lines. Blood calls to blood, little queen, and your blood has been whispering promises of power for years, hasn’t it?”
“The Mother of Night used me.”
“Aye,” she agrees. “She uses you. She wants freedom for her and her captured brethren. You have the promise of two powerful bloodlines within you. The world trembles beneath your feet—”
“I don’t want it.” My fists clench. “I don’t want this power.”
“You can’t run,” she merely tells me. “And you can’t hide. And you can’t lock it away. What now, little queen?”
Time to face your fears.
“Now I find the Crown of Shadows and give it to that bitch,” I tell her. “I will pay my dues. But she will have no more of me than that.”
The oracle cocks her head, considering me.
“We will see,” she says. “I have one last request before I answer your question.”
“No. No more requests.” I’ve played that game before and lost. Badly. “You’ve had your price. Now you owe me answers.”
Her smile grows. “I ask for no price but this: Seek the prophecy that speaks of a savior who will break Unseelie. Read the true prophecy. And then come and find me if you wish to know more.”
No matter which way I twist the words, I can’t see a trap. But I know there is one. “You’re trying to use me too.”
“Aye. But I will admit it openly. A queen will walk this realm, Iskvien. She is coming, and all the world is aquiver with the promise of her awakening. She will right ancient wrongs. She will bring peace to the lands and tear down an entire thicket of lies. She will renew that which was broken and return glory to those who had it stolen from them.”
“I am not… I am not that queen.”
She merely tilts her head and considers me. “No. You are not that queen. Though you have the promise of it. But we shall see what the future holds. Read the prophecy. That is all I ask.”
“And the crown?”
“Once there was a prince,” she says. “A power-hungry male who wanted to cast down the queens who ruled over him. He despised the yoke of Maia’s name. He raged against the injustices he saw as keeping him from his rightful throne. He had three sisters—all younger—and all of them ahead of him in line for the throne of his kingdom. And his hunger grew. Not just for the throne his mother sat upon, but for the thrones of all who ruled.
“He slew his sisters in a bloody coup. He took his mother’s head and placed it on a spike atop his city walls. And then he turned his attention to other powers—other thrones. But the queens are tied to the lands, and so he knew he would have to seek a dark and dangerous power in order to overthrow them.
“He went north and he made a bargain with a creature there who had the gift of metalworking. Halvern the Dwarf made the five great relics; the Sword of Mourning; The Shield of Victory; The Mirror of Betrayal; and the Armor of Lorendil…, but some say the Crown of Shadows was his greatest feat.
“Bring me a fallen star and a thousand souls, Halvern said. I will use the star’s metal to forge the crown and the blood to quench the metal. And so, the prince trekked far and wide to find a star, still burning from its flight through the heavens. And he gathered a thousand souls and led them to their doom.
“And Halvern produced his finest working: A crown so dark and bloody that it could smite any who opposed the one who wore it. A crown that could shake the lands themselves and crack the fault lines that quivered through them. A crown that could drink at the magic of the lands—the source of the ley lines powers—until they were dry.
“The king ruled for a thousand years, and though the earth trembled beneath his touch, he held power over it. He sent thousands to his death camps and conquered kingdoms all across the continent. He yearned to rule them all. And though great armies fought, they fell, one by one, until a single kingdom stood against him.
“And the princess who lived in that kingdom went to her father and said, ‘Kneel, father. Kneel before him, greet him with open arms, and then send me to end him.’ For she was beautiful and brave and cunning. And she knew that the king would see her face and demand her for his bed. And when the treaty was signed, she went to him with a knife in her boot, a smile on her lips, and murder in her heart.
“But she had not counted on the king’s power. Nor had she counted on his cruelty. ‘Because you have knelt,’ the king told her, ‘you shall serve with my dogs.’ And he had her chained and leashed to his throne. He took her knife. And he took her body. And he took her pride. But he had not counted on her fury. Hatred brewed like a seed in her belly, and even as she submitted, even as she screamed and begged for mercy, she plotted his ruin.
“Power grew like a seed in the princess’s heart. She was fae, and while she had not yet been consecrated to the lands, she could feel it crying out beneath her, desperate for an end to this tyrannical king’s rule.
