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The skin at the nape of my neck prickles with unease. “What is it?”
Theron doesn’t answer right away. His attention remains fixed on the fissure, his features turning stone-like. “The Opal Court was sealed away centuries ago, its power broken and scattered to prevent catastrophe.”
I shift close enough for the heat radiating from his body to reach me, but I’m careful not to touch. “Like Underhill?”
“No.” His hand moves over the crack, still without touching. “Opal was the first court to form after we fled Underhill. From its fracture rose the courts that remain today.”
I stare at the pulsing doorway. “There’s no way Nyctarian isn’t aware of this.”
“No,” Theron agrees. “And he did not report it to the Concord.”
My mind races, piecing together fragments of what I’ve learned of the fae world. “You said that the Dark Sithe has more princes and potential princesses than any other. Could this be the reason?”
Theron inclines his head. “It is possible.”
“And Elionn?” I refuse to let him dodge the question. “Could he have somehow gone into the rift?”
“If my brother discovered this access point to the Opal Court…” Theron’s focus turns inward. “He would not have gone into it of his own free will, but he would have tried to close it. Opal power cannot be controlled by any single court without destroying the balance between realms.”
As I turn back toward the fissure, the light pulses brighter, as if responding to our conversation. “It felt alive when I touched it.”
“Magic of this magnitude develops consciousness over time.” Theron moves closer to the crack, his reflection fragmenting in the opalescent glow. “It remembers what it once was and seeks to be whole again.”
The ground trembles, and Thalindor steps forward, alarm clear in his posture. “Your Majesty, we should not linger. If the Dark King discovers us here—”
“He’s already aware.” Theron cuts him off with a gesture. “The question is, why did he let us see this?”
I study the fracture, then Theron’s hard profile. “Maybe the rift is beyond Nyctarian’s ability to fix, and he’s hoping it isn’t beyond yours. But he can’t be seen asking for help.”
Disquiet settles over his regal features. “I hope that is not the case. It took the five courts working together to create this seal. Even if I wanted to, I could not pass through this barrier.”
A chill fills me. “But this is where the stone led me.”
Grief breaks through his composure before he smothers it, and he stands. “If Elionn was taken by the Opal Court, then he is lost to us.”
He draws me to my feet. “We should prepare to leave before we, too, are taken.”
12
WHAT KINGS CANNOT DO
THERON
Amalia jerks her arm free of my grasp, and the heat of her skin lingers on my cool fingers even after the connection breaks.
She stalks away, sending pebbles skittering across the fractured earth as she paces before the rift. The light catches in her hair, painting her with the colors of a realm that should have remained buried in myth and memory.
“What do you mean, we’re leaving?” She whirls back to me, her dark eyes flash with defiance. “We came here to find Elionn, and we did.”
My chest tightens, the pressure of futility crushing me. I step closer, restraining the storm of fear raging inside. “If this is where Elionn has gone, then I cannot follow.”
“Cannot or will not?” Amalia’s words cut through the air between us, sharp as the daggers at her belt. “I didn’t think the mighty Silver King would abandon his own blood so easily.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Oh, I understand.” Her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “You dragged me across realms to find your brother, and now that we have a lead, you want to run back to your shiny spire and pretend none of this ever happened.”
The accusation strikes deep, and my magic rises unbidden, the air around us cooling until our breath forms silver clouds. “I have ruled my sithe for centuries. Do not presume to judge what I would or would not do for my family.”
