I press the tip of the knife against his skin so he can feel the bite. His black
eyes focus on me with new intensity. “Why?” he asks. Just that.
Seldom have I felt such a rush of triumph. I have to concentrate on keeping
it from going to my head, stronger than wine. “Because your luck is terrible and
mine is great. Do what I say and I’ll delay the pleasure of hurting you.”
“Planning to spill a little more royal blood tonight?” He sneers, moving as
if to shrug off the knife. I move with him, keeping it against his throat. He keeps
talking. “Feeling left out of the slaughter?”
“You’re drunk,” I say.
“Oh, indeed.” He leans his head back against the stone, closing his eyes.
Nearby torchlight turns his black hair to bronze. “But do you really believe I am
going to let you parade me in front of the general, as though I am some lowly—”
I press the knife harder. He sucks in a breath and bites off the end of that
sentence. “Of course,” he says, a moment later, with a laugh full of selfmockery. “I was passed out cold while my family was murdered; it’s hard to fall
more lowly than that.”
“Stop talking,” I tell him, pushing aside any twinge of sympathy. He never
had any for me. “Move.”
“Or what?” he asks, still not opening his eyes. “You’re not really going to
stab me.”
“When was the last time you saw your dear friend Valerian?” I whisper.
“Not today, despite the insult implied by his absence. Did you wonder at that?”
His eyes open. He looks as though I slapped him awake. “I did. Where is
he?”
“Rotting near Madoc’s stables. I killed him, and then I buried him. So
believe me when I threaten you. No matter how unlikely it seems, you are the
most important person in all of Faerie. Whosoever has you, has power. And I want power.”
“I suppose you were right after all.” He studies my face, giving nothing
away on his own. “I suppose I didn’t know the least of what you could do.”
I try not to let him know how much his calmness rattles me. It makes me
feel as though the knife in my hand, which should lend me authority, isn’t
enough. It makes me want to hurt him just to convince myself he can be
frightened. He’s just lost his whole family; I shouldn’t be thinking like this.
But I can’t help thinking that he will exploit any pity on my part, any
weakness.
“Time to move,” I say harshly. “Go to the first door and open it. When
we’re inside, we’re going to the closet. There’s a passageway through there.”
“Yes, fine,” he says, annoyed, trying to push my blade away.
I hold it steady, so that the knife cuts into his skin. He swears and puts a
bleeding finger in his mouth. “What was that for?”
“For fun,” I say, and then ease the blade from his throat, slowly and
deliberately. My lip curls, but otherwise I keep my expression as masklike as I
know how, as cruel and cold as the face that reoccurs in my nightmares. It is
only as I do it that I realize who I am aping, whose face frightened me into
wanting it for my own.
His.
My heart is hammering so hard I feel sick.
“Will you at least tell me where we’re going?” he asks as I shove him ahead
of me with my free hand.
“No. Now move.” The growl in my voice is all mine.
Unbelievably, he does, swaying as he makes his way down the hall and
then into the study I indicate. When we get to the hidden passageway, he crawls
in with only a single inscrutable glance back at me. Maybe he’s even drunker
than I thought.
It doesn’t matter. He’ll sober up soon enough.
The first thing I do when I get to the nest of the Court of Shadows is tie
Prince Cardan to a chair with shredded pieces of my own dirty dress. Then I
remove both of our masks. He lets me do it all, an odd look on his face. No one
else is there, and I have no idea when anyone might come back, if they will at
all.
It doesn’t matter. I can manage without them.
I have made it this far, after all. When Cardan found me, I knew that having
control of him was the only path to having some control over the fate of my world.
I think of all the vows I made to Dain, including the one I never spoke out
loud: Instead of being afraid, I will become something to fear. If Dain isn’t going
to give me power, then I am going to take it for myself.
Not having spent much time in the Court of Shadows, I don’t know its
secrets. I walk through rooms, opening heavy wooden doors, opening cabinets,
taking inventory of my supplies. I discover a pantry that is as full of poisons as it
is of cheeses and sausages; a training room with sawdust on the floor, weapons
on the wall, and a new wooden dummy in the center, its face crudely painted
with a disturbing grin. I go into the back room with four pallets on the ground
and a few mugs and discarded clothing spread out near them. I touch none of it,
until I come to the map room with a desk. Dain’s desk, stuffed with scrolls and
pens and sealing wax.
For a moment, I am overwhelmed by the enormity of what has happened.
Prince Dain is gone, gone forever. And his father and sisters are gone with him.
I go back to the main room and drag Cardan and the chair into Dain’s
office, propping it against the open door so I can keep an eye on him. I take
down a handheld crossbow from the wall in the training room, along with a few
bolts. Weapon beside me, cocked and ready, I sit down in Dain’s chair and rest
my head in my hands.
“Will you tell me where exactly we are, now that I am trussed up to your
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