of what Eldas said. The stories of the elves living for hundreds of years is greatly exaggerated. I doubt Willow is much older than I am. In fact, I wouldn’t be shocked if he was a year or two younger.
“What did she do after she sat on the throne?” What will the rest of my existence be like here?
“She—”
“Your Highness, I really must insist!” A burst of commotion and a shrill woman’s voice interrupts Willow. “She’s still far too weak.”
“She what?” I press. Willow glances helplessly at me as I try and get the information from him.
The door opens and I don’t get my answer. Standing in the frame are two new faces. In the background is a woman with the same dark shade of skin as Willow, her wiry, gray hair pulled in a messy bun.
In front of her is a young man with a shade of raven hair—glistening of purples and blues in its shade, like an oil slick—that’s too unique to be chance. Even though I’ve only seen it a handful of times, that hair is seared onto my memory. Yet this man’s nose is slightly more flat, eyes slightly more rounded.
Even with the differences, there’s no denying my initial assumption—Eldas has a brother.
Chapter 9
“If it isn’t the new Human Queen, here at last.” He smiles widely at me and claps his hands. “What an honor to finally meet you. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“No, Prince Harrow.” Willow stares at his toes, looking instantly uncomfortable. Willow’s unease prickles the sensation up my arms. Something is wrong just because of Harrow’s mere presence.
“Good. Both of you may leave.” Harrow waves Willow and the woman behind him off.
“I told you, Your Highness, that she needs to be resting.” The elderly elf woman places her hands on her hips as she tuts at the prince like he’s a child. “You can have your fun at a later time.”
Fun? I really don’t like the sound of that. Prickling unease has turned into claws raking under my skin.
“I can have my fun whenever it pleases me. That’s one benefit of being a prince,” he says with a slow grin working its way onto his lips. “Now, shoo. Both of you away. I decree this interaction royal business.”
“Eldas will hear about this.” The woman still has yet to move.
“Run and tell my brother.” Harrow rolls his eyes. “You always do, Poppy.”
“Someone has to keep you in check. Not as if your mother does,” she mutters. But instead of leaving, she crosses over to me and places her hand on my forehead. “I’m Poppy, dearie. I come from a long line of royal healers. So if you need anything you just call for me or Willow.”
I nod. Something about her mannerisms reminds me of sweet old Mr. Abbot, and my heart aches. I never got to say goodbye to him or any of my other patients. The thought of all the people I’ve left behind—people who needed me—has my eyes burning. I nearly weep and beg for Poppy to stay as she pulls away and leaves. Willow follows behind, giving me one last wary glance.
“So, you’re the Human Queen. We’ve been waiting all this time for…you?” Harrow assesses me the second we’re alone. Even though Willow’s potion is beginning to kick in, I don’t even bother trying to shift straighter. It’s impossible to be intimidating while lying in a bed.
“Apparently,” I say dryly.
“Given your show on the redwood throne, I think the fact obvious.” He walks over slowly.
“Glad we could clear that up. Is there anything else I might help you with?” I narrow my eyes up at him.
His navy eyes flash a glacial blue in response—something I have come to associate with the Knowing. He just tried to find my true name, and I shudder to think what he might have done with it. Harrow scowls and looks to the labradorite ring on my hand. I ball my fingers into a fist. I didn’t expect the enemies Eldas mentioned to be inside the castle.
“My brother, detailed as ever and perpetually good at ruining my fun.” Harrow sighs. “Well, get up.”
“What?”
“I said, get up.”
“You can’t—”
“Can’t what?” He arches his eyebrows. “Order you? What will you do about it? Do you even know how to use your magic?”
I purse my lips.
“You’re not the only one who wears a crown in this castle.” He taps the iron circlet on his forehead for emphasis.
“No, I’m not. Eldas does as well. And his crown is far