Page 39 of The Fae Queen's Revenge

Another confirmation—the archer had been sent by Ryenil. To falsely implicate King Mehl and thus Llyalia, no doubt. “I still have the artisan to interrogate. Some nameless peasant trying to enjoy her betters’ entertainments,” Ber said, the vile words tripping too easily off his tongue. “I suspect she was not involved, but I’ll be sure to spend plenty of hours finding out.”

Ryenil scoffed. “A peasant? Do it in your spare time. We’ll have much to deal with if Lord Orpem dies and much to smooth over even if he doesn’t. Don’t waste too much of your attention on some commoner.”

“Wise advice, Father,” Ber lied, smiling. “I’ll be certain to heed it.”

“Good,” the king said. “As for now, rest. My personal healer will see to you as soon as I leave.”

Ber inclined his head. At least the visit would be good for something.

At the soundof her father’s voice, Tes flinched, and anger filled her until her magic surged against her shields in reaction. But her shields didn’t so much as waver, for her father had been a source of anger and pain for centuries. She’d long ago learned to control her response. As such, she stifled her tumultuous feelings before he’d finished a single sentence.

She needed to move, and it wasn’t toward a confrontation.

Swallowing hard, Tes stepped carefully across the floor, making her way back to the dreaded alcove. Her stomach squeezed and twisted, and the back of her neck prickled.But she ignored the discomfort, keeping her focus on her environment instead. At least she needn’t worry about missing any information while she retreated. The king’s booming voice easily reached her.

Had she heard Ber mention poison beforehiswords grew too muffled? “Assassin” had been clear from her father, as had the bit about a peasant and Lord Orpem. Even though it had been a hundred years since the awful dignitary had last visited court, she could guess why his name was mentioned with one of the common classes—abuse. How he’d ended up near death was less clear, but she wasn’t going out there to ask.

Tes took a breath and slipped fully into the alcove. Finally, her father’s voice faded in intensity. It became a low, rumbling drone, the kind she’d managed to block out after too many hours at court. Too bad the smothering darkness replaced it with a different, more personal horror, one she had fewer guards against. Her eyes might have adjusted enough for her to see the rough shape of the tiny room, but it was still nearly as black as a moonless night in the deep forest.

Just as it had looked when she was a child.

Time seemed to flow backward as she sidled over to the bed, her steps merging with that of her younger self. Yet it wasn’t the same.It wasn’t.She was taller, now—stronger—and she no longer imagined monsters creeping around in the shadows.Thosewere more likely to smile over their dark deeds while standing in the light. This time, the only monster was her past, and she had no choice but to conquer it.

Instead of dropping onto the tattered sheets to sob as her child-self had, she paused to consider the situation. Truly, there was no way to know if the space had been maintained, physically or magically. The room had been shielded so that no sound slipped free, mostly to prevent her mother from hearing herscreams, but if Tes used her magic to check for the spell, it might alert her father. Too dangerous.

Likewise, she didn’t dare risk the mattress squeaking with her weight. So she slung her small pack in front of her and slid carefully down into the narrow gap between the wall and bedframe, pulling her knees up and folding her arms atop them. The bag made an awkward lump between her legs and chest, but it was oddly comforting to hold onto something, too.

Of course, the food inside was probably getting squished into a mess, but she couldn’t imagine eating, anyway. She hadn’t minded when her nanny had forbidden her food during her punishments, at least not until the gnawing hunger had finally eaten its way around the lump of fear in her belly. If history served, she had a good day before that happened.

Provided she gave in to the fear at all.

Dropping her head on her forearm, Tes breathed slowly and carefully. This wouldn’t be so bad. In usual circumstances, she was only mildly uncomfortable in other enclosed spaces. She had been able to ignore her distaste for them during her unfortunate attempt to “save” Ria from the kings, even when she’d been tangled in her own dress in the middle of a dark tunnel.

But tunnels reminded her of Ber. They’d been adolescents when she’d first shown him the secret entrances so he could sneak around the palace—and then encourage her to sneak around, too. With so much scrutiny during the day, they’d often explored the passages at night, so the darkness there echoed with pleasure, both the innocent joy of youth and the passion they’d found many years later.

She should pretend this was just another forgotten, walled-off room. A clever little find where she could tuck away her secrets the same way she locked up her feelings about her father. But despite the centuries that had passed, the memoriesof confinement beat at her mind. Desolation and abandonment ruled here. Not even the soft scent of the crushed bread beneath her nose could cover the musty smell of childhood betrayal.

Maybe next time, you’ll remember to walk.

But it was the garden, and—

One more word, and I’ll add a day. The Jewel of Centoi must always remain serene in her every movement. In here, you’ll not be able to run at all. Learn the feeling of stillness.

Shuddering, Tes shoved the memory away, but another slipped forward to take its place. Then another. The time she’d dropped her spoon at breakfast. The morning she’d wrinkled her dress. That afternoon in the library when she’d dared climb a ladder instead of summoning a servant to retrieve her book. There were enough dark moments to forever replace themselves, a litany that would never end.

She could seal them away again. She could.

But it was going to be a long night.

By the timethe king’s healer left, Ber’s body felt better, but his mind did not. He paced the sitting area, hoping to dispel the nervous energy. No luck. His insides felt scalded by the burning ache, a pain-tinted itch he couldn’t scratch. A cry of danger when he should have been calm. If he hadn’t left his knife embedded in the archer’s throat, he would have drawn it now.

It made no sense.

Ryenil didn’t want him dead, at least not at the moment. The king could have appointed any number of archers who wouldn’t have dared to miss, so the garden assault hadn’t been intended for assassination. It was merely the start of a new plot.

Even if Ryenil intended to gain leverage over Llyalia through another, similar attack, Ber didn’t expect anything to happen tonight. It would require too much additional planning. So…there was no imminent threat. He was as safe as he ever was. Yet some indefinable part of him screamed a warning all the same.

Ber shoved his trembling fingers through his hair. Perhaps rest truly was what he needed. Why not? Nothing else was working. Resigned, he headed toward the sleeping chamber, but as he neared the door, the warm caress of Tes’s magic wafted over him again.

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