Three weeks before autumn begins...
The rose’s petals were soft, like silk, and yet they were alive. I released the crimson bloom as a rotund servant whose name I couldn’t remember interrupted my stroll through the gardens. Clutching her skirts, she ran toward me, careful to avoid the thorns on the bushes. “Princess, a rider has arrived. He says that he needs to speak with you post haste,” she panted.
“Who is this man?” I asked the woman.
She brushed a piece of fuzzy red hair back from her face. “He refuses to give his name or even speak to anyone but you.”
A trick from Luna? But how could she possibly orchestrate it while sleeping? I still had a few more weeks before she woke, but she had been more powerful during our sleep walk today than she’d ever been. She said it was because our powers were growing. We were almost at the age of fae maturity, but mine weren’t as strong as hers, and we should be equal in every way. After all, we’re twins. She was up to something, but was she behind this? I wasn’t sure yet.
“Is he human?” I asked.
She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Majesty. He appears to be.”
“Take me to him.”
Gathering my skirts, I kept the fabric from dragging along the ground. We walked through the garden into the palace yard and up the marble steps. Inside, we were surrounded by white marble and the cold stones made the air cooler. The servant was short, and she took two steps to each of mine. “He’s waiting in the green parlor, Princess.”
The marble floor shone, our reflections gliding across their slick, glassy surface. The servant paused outside the green parlor with her hand on the brass door handle. “Shall I announce you?”
I smiled. “That’s not necessary. He obviously knows who I am.” Now, I’ll find out who he is. Who would dare ride into Virosa and demand to speak with me?
She nodded and pulled the heavy door open. It was called the green parlor because the walls were painted an emerald green, and the tapestries and upholstery of the furniture had been made to match. Even the knick knacks were green. Blown glass, trinkets, vases. Only the mantle and the trim around the windows were white.
Inside, sitting in a wingback chair in front of the cold fireplace, was a man whose hands raked over his face anxiously. He looked up at the sound of my heels clicking across the floor and quickly stood, bowing at the waist. “Princess Aura, I presume.”
“You presume correctly.”
I narrowed my eyes and he narrowed his in response. There was something familiar about him. He was tall and lithe, in his early twenties. “May I speak candidly?” he asked. At least he wasn’t going to waste my time.
“You may,” I granted.
Placing a hand over his chest, he introduced himself. “I am Prince Phillip of Grithim.” I sucked in a breath before he voiced the question I knew he’d come to obtain the answer to. “Where the hell is my brother?”
I liked him better than William already. He was brave; waltzing into my home and demanding answers in such a bold way. Nothing like his snake of a brother with pretty words and false promises.
“I just received word that he came here the spring before last. No one from Grithim has seen or heard from him since, so I assume he’s either still here or something happened to him.”
“You talk too much,” I said, walking toward him. I flicked my finger and shut his mouth. He was lucky he was pretty and that I liked his voice... and that I had a better idea of what to do with the young and current heir to the throne of Grithim. Otherwise, I’d carve out his tongue.
A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead while I held him there, considering what to do with him. He was a fighter. A myriad of options played through my mind. The easiest one would be to glamour his memory so he would forget all about hearing that William had come to Virosa.
“Who gave you this information?” I demanded.
He shook his head, futilely trying to pry his lips apart. I let him open them to speak.
“Why was he here?” he said in a rush. “Is he alive?”
I circled him. “Did my sister send you?”
He furrowed his brow.
“Sister?”
This reeked of Luna. She could have glamoured his memory, or erased it all together. If Luna was behind his arrival, there was one sure way to tell.
“I think you’ll make a fine puppet,” I murmured, shutting his mouth once more. William was the eldest Prince of Grithim, which meant this was his younger brother. And, apart from the color of his hair, he looked very similar to William. I walked to his side and whispered in his ear, “You’re either lying about my sister’s involvement, in which case I’ll be able to tell by her reaction, or you’re being truthful, in which case you’ll be a perfect puppet for me. Either way, it’ll be beautiful. You’ll be the perfect weapon in my arsenal. Won’t you, pet?”
His nostrils flared as he tried to fight against my power.
“You can rest here until I need you to go to her.”
He gritted his teeth and I smiled, reveling in his stubbornness.
“You look just like him,” I breathed.
Phillip’s eyes widened.
I smiled, raking my nails down his chest. “Luna will love you. She’s a pathetic, romantic fool.” And then I blew a sweet breath into his face. He slumped quickly and I pushed him back into his chair, calling for a servant to take him to one of the empty bedrooms. I didn’t want to see his face again until I needed him.
chapter three
PHILLIP
One week before the first day of autumn…
We’re too close to the dark forest, sire. We should turn around,” Rolfe said.
I threw my head back laughing. I was a tall man, but Rolfe was a giant. He towered over my head and his body was thrice as wide. “Surely you aren’t afraid of trees and fog,” I taunted.
“Aye, I am, sire. There are wee folk in those woods; evil creatures who would prank a man to his death, not to mention a dark witch who would boil our skin from our bones, and God only knows what else. I think we should go. We sent back a stag and a boar with the rest of the hunting party. The palace will eat well for a time and we can return tomorrow... when it isn’t so foggy.”
I sighed. He was right. We didn’t know the dark forest like we knew our own, and I’d pushed him to the boundary. Rolfe’s discomfort wasn’t surprising. He’d always hated coming near the edge. All of Grithim had reason to fear the fae that lived deep in the woods, but something had drawn me here today; pushed me farther and urged me to stay out longer than the other hunters.
Maybe it was stubbornness. Or pride.