“HOW DARE HE!” Kaysar the Unhinged One, King of the Midnight Court, banged his fist on the arm of his throne, an elaborate seat made from stalks of poisonvine. Bloodred flowers with sharp, jagged petals bloomed along the upper arch, perfuming the air with a sweet, intoxicating fragrance. “Something must be done.”
Prince Jareth of the Winterlands had lied to him. Kaysar despised liars. He despised the prince for a thousand other reasons, of course, but the lies... In his estimation, there was no worse crime.
He goes too far.
Another shout brewed. If you couldn’t own your evil, mayhap you shouldn’t commit the act.
With one metal-tipped hand, he braced to rise, ready to strike at Jareth this very moment. With the other metal-tipped hand, he gripped the poisonvine to keep himself seated. “Tell me again, word for word, changing nothing,” he commanded his seer. “Fill my ears with his crime once more.”
“Word for word?” Her tone said what she didn’t. Must I?
“You must.” Though she had mentioned her name once or three dozen times, he knew her only as Eye, a beauty he’d saved from goblins however long ago. Years? Eons? Time had lost all meaning to Kaysar, one day the same as any other. He awoke, thought of ways to punish his foes, and then punished his foes. His methods might vary, but his goal remained unchanged.
“Very well.” Evincing dread, Eye repeated, “I’m so sorry to tell you this, majesty, and please don’t shout, but Prince Jareth approaches your—” She cringed. “Border.”
“How dare he,” Kaysar exploded again.
His companion flinched. “Perhaps you should study your map,” she suggested as a mother to an upset child. “You wish to study your map, yes?”
His map. He tensed before he softened, melting into his throne. “Yes, I wish to study my map.” He plucked his fingers free of the poisonvine and traced his claws along his forearm, the way he used to do as a boy. He welcomed the sting, the drip of blood.
Over the centuries, he’d memorized the layout of Astaria and each of the five fae courts, yet the art of creating a map still calmed him. His sole remaining link to his sister. If he’d ever really had a sister? Sometimes he wondered if he’d imagined her. A figment of his imagination to keep him sane during the worst year of his existence. But deep down, he knew the truth.
He etched crimson lines into his skin, applying more pressure, cutting deeper and using torn flaps as markers. The latest stings barely registered as tension seeped from him.
“Majesty?”
The softly spoken question snagged his attention, and he snapped up his head. He narrowed his eyes and focused on the woman standing before him. Surrounded by onyx walls and torchlight, Eye wore an ivory gown, appearing as ethereal as a dream. A glorious mane of dark hair framed a delicate face, her skin a shade lighter than her rich brown eyes.
Pushing the words through clenched teeth, he told her, “What is my one and only rule for you, Eye?”
She grimaced before admitting, “I’m not to interrupt you. But if I must, there are only two instances I’m never to do so, even if I’m dying.”
“That’s right.” Eye had more privileges with Kaysar than anyone else in existence, but there were lines even she must not cross. “Name those instances.”
“When you’re studying your maps that aren’t maps.” She shifted from foot to foot. “And every moment in between.”
Maps that aren’t—He flicked his tongue over an incisor. Was it his fault that others couldn’t read his works of art?
As a boy, he’d had no spare money for ink and paper, so he’d adapted. As often as he and Viori had dashed from village to village to avoid being punished for simply surviving, he’d needed a map. The Forest of Many Names was an infamous labyrinth known for gobbling up visitors and spitting out their bones. Eventually.
His greatest fear was finding Viori’s bones in the wooded terrain.
His lungs squeezed, his breath thinning. “Your insolence this day is concerning, Eye. But I’m a merciful king. Upon occasion. Too merciful, perhaps. I’ll give you one chance to save yourself from reprisal. Show me what Prince Jareth is doing right this second.”
The seer had the ability to meld her mind with another’s and reveal whatever images she observed in a vision—the past, present or future. It was a painful process for her. He didn’t care.
As she’d done thousands of times, she projected a picture into his mind. An image of Jareth