Shadow Cursed by May Sage Page 0,64

are you not?"

I nod, tenser than I'd like.

"I've read many books on Voids. We haven't had one for a while—they're rarer than most powers. I think the last student we saw came to us some fifty years ago."

I'm speechless.

Drusk says it for me. "You had a Void fifty years ago? We haven't seen one since Nyx in Tenebris."

Titus laughs. "Unlikely."

I frown, confused.

"You may not have had a gentry, noble-born Void who can be recognized by anyone of importance in centuries. That doesn't mean that a random sprite may not have possessed such a power, without having the means to recognize it. And it's also possible that some are fully aware of their ability, and choose to conceal it. Who's to accuse them of murder if no one knows they can kill with a touch?"

I can't deny the truth of his words, yet I want to argue.

"Though clearly, you're rather powerful. This little exchange would have cost the last Void I knew all her strength." I can't tell whether he's honest, or wants to make me feel better.

"Do you have Mysts?" I ask.

He tilts his head. "Far fewer. They're native to your parts, the children of the Court of Mist."

Drusk and I exchange a glance.

His power is native to my court?

"I see you don't know your history. Your kind, south of the border, has never been fond of recording what you consider boring."

Touché.

"Some five or six thousand years ago, Denarhelm extended to the southwest, but a few unseelie folk had a mind to take it. To do so, they called to a sacrificial magic that let them blend in with darkness. Some of them were fire users, others air mages. They abandoned their link to the element in exchange for control over darkness. Regardless of how many battles we won, they'd destroy us in the night. We had no choice but to flee. These unseelie took the Court of Mist. Their leader fathered the line of Oberon, but all who followed him were Myst. As the power wasn't natural, as such, it was only rarely given to their descendants."

In just a few minutes, this playful king had turned everything I knew on its head.

I think I could stay here and hear him talk for years and not realize any time had passed.

Before I let that happen, I straighten.

"King Titus, with your leave, I humbly request your assistance. I only have to listen for a moment to realize your people and I would benefit from standing together. Denarhelm and Tenebris, we have a savage, bloody history that links us all. But we're falling, and you still stand. Help us fight the invasion, and we'll build a future between the two realms of the folk."

The king watches me, and his green eyes aren't playful or kind at all. They're probing, assessing, weighing.

He smiles without an ounce of kindness. "Oh, I see it. The rage, the darkness. The madness. I see it buried within your pretty eyes." He turns to Meda. "Your granddaughter truly is an Evergreen, is she not? Beautiful, hard, and filled with bloodlust."

I'm taken aback when he steps in and appears right in front of me. Drusk is on me immediately, but I lift one hand to hold him back.

Titus's eyes aren't green at all at this moment.

They're amethyst. Violet. Just like Morgana's. Just like my hair.

I know my history better than most after reading Nyx's journal. My ancestor was the daughter of Maeve, child of Queen Una—the last high seelie queen. Maeve had a twin and a little brother. I knew her line hadn't ended, but I'd had no clue who were the descendants. We know little of the seelie courts.

There he is. My cousin, though the thousands of years separating us ensure there's little to no blood in common between us. Yet we're the same. One thing on the surface. Something else entirely underneath.

The Last Stand

Vlari

We ride.

Our horses are nothing like the indolent mares we used to keep in my youth. We were given the fastest horses bred by the kings of seelie. They practically fly. My legs and back hurt, as I don't think I've ever used the kinds of muscles it takes to gallop this fast for hours on end, but I urge the horses farther still, ignoring the pain. I'm not about to delay our arrival.

We take the fastest road to Whitecroft, uncaring about any human spotting us. They'd never catch up with us if they tried. If they dared. Something tells me they won't.

Drusk grins