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I smooth invisible wrinkles from my robes, a habit born of centuries facing dignitaries who scrutinize for weakness. The fabric whispers beneath my touch, woven with enchantments that enhance my presence.
The guards outside my door stamp their spears in formal announcement. The heavy wooden door swings open without a sound, perfectly balanced on silver hinges that never tarnish.
My fingers find the cuff of my sleeve, brushing the embroidered constellations that map my lineage. The magic within them pulses in time with my heartbeat, responding to the proximity of the sithean stone around her neck. A piece of my kingdom that she stole from my brother, and I now intend to rely upon.
As they step through the door, the light from the corridor frames them. Caelan, tall and silver as moonlight, with fresh bruises on open display. And beside him, shorter but no less formidable, Amalia Wolf. Her hand drops to the knife at her belt, and she snaps her teeth at the guard who tries to take it from her before Caelan waves him away.
The knife is nothing compared to the weapon this woman has made of her body. Despite the years I’ve lived since seeing her, she appears unchanged, still lean and bronze, her black hair pulled back in a tight braid, her stance poised for combat rather than conversation.
Still wild in a way that confuses and intrigues me, and from the way my brother stares at her, I’m not the only one taken with this strange creature. Against all odds, she had ensnared us all in the whirlwind week she had spent in our sithe before vanishing, leaving chaos in her wake.
I position myself beside my chair rather than in it, unwilling to sit while the woman who might save my brother still hesitates at the threshold.
The metal bands on my fingers catch the firelight as I gesture toward the waiting seats. “Enter.”
Caelan inclines his head.
Amalia’s chin lifts higher as she scans every corner of the room, checking for traps, witnesses, and escape routes. She’s back to wearing the eye covers that hide her fae lineage, and I wonder how taboo such things still are in her world.
“Your Highness,” Caelan says, “I’ve brought Amalia Wolf as requested.”
“So I see.” My attention shifts to the woman beside him. “Your resistance was expected but unnecessary. My brother explained our situation?”
Her hand drifts to the cudgel strapped across her back, fingers tapping its metal surface with impatience. “He mentioned Elionn is missing. He failed to mention why that’s my problem.”
“You wear the reason around your neck.” I gesture toward the sithean stone that pulses with a faint silver light. “A connection forged in blood and magic.”
Her free hand closes around the necklace, obscuring its glow. “If that’s all you want, you can have it back. Elionn said it was just a trinket.”
I lift a hand before she can rip it from her neck. “He downplayed its importance, and now it’s bonded to you, so returning it will be pointless.”
Her hand tightens around the stone. “I didn’t ask for any connection to your family.”
“Yet here we stand.”
The fire in the hearth flares higher as my control slips, responding to the magic that flows through generations of royal blood.
I draw a breath, tamping down emotions that serve no purpose. “My searchers have exhausted every traditional method. Our mirrors show nothing of him. The connection between twins fails. The scryers can only tell us where he vanished, but no further.”
She remains guarded, but calculation slips through the defenses. Good. She understands the gravity, even if she pretends indifference.
Caelan steps forward. “Amalia, please. You’re our only hope.”
She snorts. “Okay, Princess Leia.”
Caelan frowns in confusion. “I am Prince Caelan. Did you hit your head coming through the mirror? You seem to be struggling mentally.”
“You guys really need to get mainstream media here.”
She huffs out an annoyed breath before she approaches the chair I prepared for her. She studies it for a moment, as if waiting for it to bite, before she sets the cudgel aside and settles.
“Explain why it has to be me,” she commands. “I’m a good bounty hunter, but I know nothing about your world.”
“Clearly, or you would have never taken that stone.” I sit on the throne beside her, and Caelan takes up his position at my right hand.
Her lips flatten into an unhappy line. “I was told it was a trinket.”
“He lied,” I say. “Perhaps he worried you’d take it if you knew its significance. Or perhaps he hoped for exactly this outcome. A question that will have to wait for an answer.”
