A wicked smile curved his lips. “Is that so?”
And that was when I remembered. Fae could scent lies. My stomach flipped as he backed me up against the wall, leaned in, and shoved his lips against my ear. His breath was hot on my skin.
“I love my missus and all, but I might just claim you for myself. Can’t have a lost little mortal wandering around the Sunlit Market, now, can we? Someone needs to look after you. And you’re just so...useful. If you know what I mean.”
Muscles tensing, I reached a hand around my back and thumbed the iron hilt of the Mortal Blade. Unfortunately, I knew exactly what he meant. Another fae, desperate for an heir. It would make him one of the most powerful fae in this city, probably giving him access to Oberon himself.
I shuddered and slid the blade from its holster, wincing at the slightzingit made. “Get off me. I really am going to the castle, and if you try to steal me, then the king will be extremely angry.”
His brows pinched. He could tell that was the truth.
“Who the fuck are you?” Roughly, he snatched my wrist and shoved back my hood. His eyes swept across my face, widening. I didn’t know how he recognized me. Maybe he’d attended one of the many balls I’d endured that month before the wedding. But I knew that look. Recognition, followed by greed.
A guttural laugh escaped his throat. “My, my. What do we have here? The long-lost mortal bride. I cannot wait to see the look on the king’s face when I take you straight to him.” His eyes went distant. “The reward will be far greater than anything I could have gotten with your spawn.”
He yanked me toward him. Trembling, I pulled the dagger from behind my back and slid it right into his gut. The fae gasped, loosing the grip on my arm and stumbling away from me. Fingers of blood stretched out from the gaping wound in his stomach, where the blade had sliced through his tunic. I swallowed hard, hating all this death, even as a part of me, deep down inside, rejoiced.
“What?” he asked, blood bubbling out of his mouth and trailing down his chin. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and then he fell.
“Dammit.” I grabbed the blade and hurried down the length of the alley to put as much distance between us as I could. I’d already burned one of my gemstones. Now, I only had two left. Two chances to kill Oberon.
And I still had to get inside the castle.
I wound through another set of alleys until I reached the courtyard just beyond the front doors of Oberon’s castle. The shadows of its towering spires splashed onto the stone ground. Several soldiers wandered through the courtyard. Two stood firm with spears beside the closed oak doors. There was no way to walk inside without being spotted.
Morgan had mentioned a secret tunnel from one of the nearby inns. Before one of the soldiers could spot me lurking about, I ducked back into the alley and came out on a different street. Several inns sat silent and empty, cobwebs clinging to shuttered windows. Albyria had not needed inns for centuries now. Mother once told me that the fae had kept them open for years, hoping that one day a traveler would cross that bridge and grace their steps.
But over time, they’d accepted the truth. No one was ever crossing that bridge.
Until now.
Casting a furtive glance over my shoulder, I pushed into the nearest inn. Dust rose around me with every step, reminding me of the mists. My heart dropped as I took a quick look through the vacant building. All I found were spiders, old sheets draped over furniture, and glass bottles that had been emptied long ago.
A dead end. But it gave me a chance to pop out the fried gemstone and replace it with a new one.
I tried the next inn and then the next, until I finally found the creaking wooden stairs leading to a basement, with a tunnel just off it. The cloak flapped behind me as I hurried down the hidden corridor, leaving a storm of dust in my wake.
At the end of the tunnel, I came to another set of stairs leading back up. With a quiver in my stomach, I climbed them, pulling out the Mortal Blade. The gemstone flickered with the trapped fire within, illuminating the way. When I reached the door, I pressed my ear against the wood and listened. No sound came from the other side.
The hinges creaked as I pushed the door open and slipped into the castle. I glanced one way and then the next, thankful that no fae were in this corridor. I couldn’t afford another fight.
Tugging the hood back over my head, I moved through the silent corridor, trying to get my bearings. King Oberon had not allowed me any freedom during my month spent here. Most of the time I’d been trapped in my room, in the Great Hall for balls, and in the current queen’s quarters where she had poked and prodded at me.
Queen Hannah.
I wondered what she was doing now. Had she retired from her duties as expected? Or had my disappearance forced her to remain by Oberon’s side until he found a replacement? If the fae from the alley was any indication, it did not sound like he’d chosen another. That, plus the storm fae’s actions, suggested that the king still meant to make me his wife.
But why? If a new mortal bride every seventy-five years was so essential to his reign, why hadn’t he chosen another?
And what did he really do to them? Tous? I knew it was far more than what we’d been told. It didn’t fully add up, and I wanted to know why.
Maybe I could force Oberon to explain before I shoved my blade into his heart, and then I could ensure no fae ever tried to do what he had done again.
I reached another set of winding stairs and ascended with quiet steps. The light from a bay of windows splashed onto stone archways etched in thorny vines. This was the Great Hall. I bypassed it completely. Up and up and up I went until I reached the highest floor where I knew Oberon slept.
No guards stood outside, which meant Oberon wasn’t there. He was likely plotting in his own war room or listening to his advisors drone on about whatever it was kings talked about with their council.
With one last glance over my shoulder, I slipped inside the door and waited for his return.