The doors to Cress’s chambers burst open, and there stood Mor, his tanned, tattooed arms glistening with sweat in the early sunlight from the hall windows. The fairy’s nostrils were flared, his curly hair a mess.
“What happened?” Cress imagined the courtyards in chaos with Shadow Fairy arrows speckling the grass, and the bodies of his brothers around them. He grabbed his fairsaber, but Mor stopped him.
“It’s not what you think.” Mor’s dark brown-silver eyes hardened. “But I suppose in a way, it’s worse.”
Cress dropped his hands. “It’s not Shadow Fairies?”
Mor shook his head and stepped back into the hall. “It’s Bonswick.”
Cress’s jaw hardened. He strapped his fairsaber harness to his back, the blade a light weight between his shoulders. He followed Mor out. “Bring me to that faeborn fool.”
Their footsteps echoed through the crystal hallways of the Silver Castle. Sunlight prismed in all directions, reflecting off the walls in tangled streams of emerald and gold.
Mor brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. His lashes fluttered.
“You seem nervous.” Cress flicked the latch of the side door and kicked it open with a bang.
“You’ll see why in a minute, Your Highness.” Mor followed him out, digging a hand into his pocket and drawing out a black ribbon. He handed it to Cress.
“What’s that for?” Cress asked as they rounded the starbud bushes. The blossoms unfolded as Cress passed, showing off velvet midnight blue petals that bowed at his ankles with respect.
“Your hair,” was all Mor said as they emerged from the garden.
Cress stopped at the top of the hill. His cold turquoise eyes narrowed on the two dozen assassins in black and navy lining the training square’s edge. They stood at attention, their gazes forward. One was missing.
“Where’s Whyp?” Cress asked.
“I’m not sure. The Queene sent him on a special assignment yesterday. He hasn’t returned,” Mor whispered.
Bonswick prowled back and forth in the middle of the training square. It looked like at least four of Cress’s brothers had been punched. At the far side, Cress spotted one of his assassins—Dranian—with a wet collar from blood dripping down his chin. He saw Dranian dare a glance over to where Cress and Mor were on the hill.
“If looks could kill,” Mor muttered.
“What has Bonswick done to them?” the Prince asked.
“He came here for me. Unfortunately, a few members of the Brotherhood tried to stand in his way. It turns out he’s more powerful than he looks,” the fairy warned.
Cress snatched the black ribbon from Mor’s hand and tied back his long hair. “His nobility doesn’t give him the right to attack the North Brotherhood of Assassins. My assassins.”
“Unfortunately,” Mor cut him a look, “it allows him to do what he likes. Our brothers were forced to stand there and take his hits. And he demanded that I fight him in a deathmatch. I was going to do it, but—”
“Absolutely not.”
Mor nodded. “I figured you’d say that.”
The grass rippled at Cress’s ankles as he descended the hill. The starbud blossoms released a wind-like gasp and closed back into buds, ducking behind thorny branches as his power spread.
“Cress…” Mor called in a loud whisper. “Be careful with him. He’s inherited more power than any other male in the East. He might have beaten me if we’d really fought.”
Cress’s flesh tightened. “That’s precisely why I will not allow it.”
The Prince marched to the clearing, and Bonswick’s feral grin widened.
“Prince Cressica!” he greeted. “I see I finally have your attention.” Bonswick tossed his sword aside and Cress watched it roll through the grass.
“It seems your favourite slave has run off scared.” Bonswick’s gaze flickered past Cress to where Mor approached the square’s edge and folded his gloved hands to wait with the other assassins. “I suppose I don’t blame him. I’ve mastered the touch of death, you know, and I’m itching to use it on someone.”
“Stop running your mouth, you fool,” Cress said. “How dare you harass the High Queene’s assassins?”
“They disrespected a noble of the East. Surely you would do the same if my assassins had disrespected you, Prince.” Bonswick’s glassy eyes glittered. He finally tore his gaze off Mor and placed it back on the Prince. “You know, I only suffered through the dreadful trek to the North in the first place because I knew you’d be here. Why else would I have bothered to visit such a cold, boring place?”
“Your feud with me is one-sided,” Cress assured. “You can hate me because the High Queene chose me as her ward, but make no mistake,” he stepped in until he towered over the black-haired fairy of the East, “touch one of my brothers again, and I will chop off more than just your fingers in your sleep.”
Bonswick’s laughter roared over the square—he threw his head back, showing his wide smile to the heavens and his teeth to the Brotherhood.
“Step aside, illegitimate Prince!” The air changed directions and Bonswick’s dark lashes fluttered in disgust. “I have a deathmatch to win with that leech!” He pointed over Cress’s shoulder to Mor, and Cress’s hand flashed up to grab Bonswick’s. He squeezed, crushing Bonswick’s fingers. He didn’t stop until the High Lord’s glassy eyes flickered, and a split second of fear crossed his face.
“Release me!” Bonswick ground out through his teeth.
“You will fight me instead this morning,” Cress said, tilting his head in a crossbeast-like way. “And I will enjoy sending you back to your precious East as ashes in a jar. I’ll tie it with a bow like a gift for the nobles who will be glad to finally be rid of you.”
Cress released Bonswick’s hand, and the fairy tore himself back.
From the side of the square, Dranian’s solemn face cracked the slightest smile over his blood-soaked chin.
A metallic ring echoed over the training space when Cress drew his winged fairsaber. His blade formed from the magic and metal in the air into a sharp, long point. “You should have kept your weapon in your hand. Fool.” Cress’s fairsaber punched forward.
Bonswick spun out of the way. He came back glaring, and Cress smiled wickedly.
“It seems your betrothed is watching.” A slow, cruel smile returned to Bonswick’s face as he nodded up the hill. “Shall we put on a show for her?”
Cress glanced over his shoulder.
He had not seen Princess Haven in three months. The Queene’s daughter looked far too much like the Queene herself with her white hair fluttering in the morning breeze and her savage lips tipped down at the corners. Cress turned away and mumbled an ancient curse. Haven must have noticed he’d been avoiding her all this time.
Cress knew the exact moment when her cold gaze settled on his back. It felt as sharp and deadly as the Queene’s.
His sword was ripped from his grip.
Bonswick hurtled Cress’s blade over the training square, over the castle grounds, and far into the belly of the Corner of the North. The High Lord spun back around, chest pumping. “No weapons,” he declared.
Cress’s hands balled into fists.
Shadow encompassed the yard. Without lifting a faeborn finger, Cress summoned ink-black clouds overhead; they rolled in like black waves off the Jade Ocean, blotting out the sun and turning the day to dusk. The grass at the Prince’s feet curled in, crisping to ash, and the breeze laced with frost.
Bonswick’s lips turned blue as he shivered. The fairy’s hair fluttered while he prowled around Cress.
“You don’t impress me, Prince.” Bonswick flicked his fingers and disappeared from sight.
Cress spun, scanning the air, sniffing the wind. He glanced at Mor in surprise as if to ask, “He has the powers of a Shadow Fairy?”
“Did no one ever tell you my mother was from the Dark Corner?” Bonswick’s whisper appeared at Cress’s ear. “You faeborn fool.”
Bonswick vanished again as Cress turned. He felt Bonswick’s glassy eyes roaming up his back and over his throat.
Cress snatched Bonswick from the air by his neck, and Bonswick growled, reappearing. The fairy’s limbs thrashed, his black hair falling out of place. Cress squeezed, pulling him in to whisper, “You should have stayed out of the North.”
He lifted Bonswick’s whole body with one arm, ready to finish the fight, but a voice ripped over the square. Every assassin dropped to one knee with their gazes on the ground.
“Cressica Albastian!”
Cress released Bonswick like a compulsion, and the fairy of the East fell to the grass, sputtering and red-cheeked.
Assassins around the square began to shiver, their fingers gripping the grass. Cress did not move a muscle. A terrible cold deeper than the mountaintop snow chilled his bones as Queene Levress descended to the training space.
“Assassins of the High Court,” the Queene called over them. “You shall each carry one thousand rocks from the quarry into the dungeon before sunset tonight. Then you will carry them back to the quarry in the morning. Whoever fails to complete this task will die by my own hand.”
Cress turned to face her. “Your Majesty—”
“Silence!” Queene Levress grabbed Cress’s shoulder, her long nails digging into his flesh. “You shall also be punished with the Brotherhood, Prince. You will carry two thousand rocks.”
Cress closed his mouth, stifling a reaction as she pierced his skin.
“We will not fail you, Queene!” the assassins shouted in unison, but Queene Levress’s silver eyes remained on Cress, waiting.
“I will not fail you, Queene,” Cress promised through his teeth.
Finally, the Queene unearthed her nails from Cress’s shoulder and drew them back to look at his faeborn blood blotting her fingers.
“I thought losing your memories changed you for the better, Cressica,” she said below the sounds of the assassins marching toward the quarry. “But perhaps I was wrong.”
Cress stayed silent as the High Queene of the Ever Corners drifted back up the hill to join her daughter. The air remained cold.
A moment later, Queene Levress returned to the castle with slow, careful steps, flanked by a tetrad of fairy guards. But Haven stayed put. She pinned Cress with her stare.
The Princess continued to watch Cress in cold silence as he headed for the quarry. As he lifted his first great rock. As he carried it toward the castle, and as he came back out for another.
He thought she would leave after that, but she watched him for the rest of the morning, during the orange and yellow afternoon, and into the purple evening. She watched until the sky sank to gray and red.
Cress felt every single prickling, icy second of her gaze on his back.
The sky was angry. Cress glared at it from the study of the Crimson Glass Tower as he held a block of ice to his aching shoulders. His faint reflection looked back at him in the window: his piercing turquoise eyes and his long, smooth, brunet hair.
Dark clouds roared outside, spitting flashes of white light across the heavens and unleashing tears upon the villages of Ever North. The rain pounded against the ruby glass as though it wished to break through and drown Cress with a flood.
There were days the Prince would have welcomed such a death. But today he stared back at the rain with a deadly glower. Today, if the rain tried such a thing, he would burn the sky and turn the clouds to cinders. He would steal the sun and curse the stars and make the cruel deities of the heavens pay.
A headache blossomed behind his eyes, and Cress squinted them shut.
“Are your thoughts troubling you again?”
Thessalie wandered in with an armful of books. The old scholar set them atop the desk, briefly glancing down at the half-written letter of apology Cress was working on to send to the Low King of the East Corner of Ever. A moment later, the scholar joined the Prince at the window.
“It’s just a headache.” Cress folded his arms and faced the storm.
“Hmm.” Thessalie took a hairbrush from the shelf and began stroking it through his long, golden locks. The scholar’s hair wasn’t quite as long as Cress’s, but it almost reached his waist now. “How are you feeling about the marriage arrangement?”
Cress released a grunt. “I’m relieved. After all these months, I’ll finally be able to hunt down whoever stole my memories.”
Thessalie’s brushing slowed. “Ah. So that’s what you plan to do once you ascend.”
“I’ve thought of nothing else. Once I’m bound to a mighty mate and receive the Queene’s inheritance gift, I’ll be too powerful to stop. Fairies like Bonswick will cower in my presence.”
“You’re already powerful enough without the help of a faeborn mate.” Thessalie set his brush back where it belonged and folded his wrinkled hands. “Bonswick is out of his faeborn mind. We all know it. Perhaps you should have a different goal for after you ascend to the highest throne in the Corners of Ever.”
“Second highest,” Cress corrected. “And I will find out who tricked me, Thessalie. I’ll make the memory thief pay terribly.”
Thessalie sighed. “Queensbane,” he cursed. “When I agreed to be your mentor, Cressica, it was to put your birth mother at ease after she sold you to the Queene. I figured I’d be teaching you the languages of the South, not conspiring with you to fight against nobles,” he muttered. “And never in a million years did I think the Queene would force you to marry her daughter—”
“Force me?” Cress laughed. “I’ll gladly do it. I’ll smile through the ceremony and bow during the Elder’s blessings. And then I’ll own the North, and I will crush those who are trying to destroy me. If my real mother could see all that I’ve…”
Thessalie glanced over at the Prince when the sentence remained unfinished. “Could see, what?”
The silence carried on, pierced only by the rain.
Thessalie turned back toward the window. “If only she could see how dangerous you’ve become? If only she could see how the citizens of the North fear you? If only she could see how even the nobles shudder when you brush by them in the Silver Castle?”
Cress’s mouth closed.
“There are dark minds here, Prince,” Thessalie warned. “You were blessed by the deities of the sky when the Queene recognized the power in your blood and saw the weapon you could become. It’s a true miracle she made you a prince and gave you a new real name. But don’t become like those with dark minds. I promised your mother I would keep you safe from all that.”
Cress’s gaze dropped to the golden floor tiles. “I must ensure that neither the South Corner nor the Dark Corner would dare come to war against me. You know I will do whatever is necessary to protect the Brotherhood. Even marry that woman’s daughter.”
“Perhaps it won’t be so dreadful being wedded to the Princess. At least Princess Haven can sing. You’ve always had a weakness for music.”
“I have no weaknesses,” Cress stated. “And I will not be swayed by her songs, no matter how lovely they are. I’ll never be ruled over by that scheming witch.”
Thessalie turned toward his pupil and opened his mouth to speak, but the door to the study burst open and three males in assassins’ black marched in. The fairies stepped into the foggy light of the paper lanterns, and Cress recognized Mor’s dark, curly hair.
When the trio parted, Queene Levress emerged from behind them. She drifted across the study. Cress’s mother-in-law to be.
The Queene’s hair was as white as snow blossoms in the dim light, giving off a sheen of innocence. But her smile undid all that was pretty about her. The High Queen of the Ever Corners carried such cruelty and savagery in her curled lips that it left only shivers in her wake.
The assassins bowed on one knee and waited for orders.
Levress stopped before Cress.
The Prince felt his heartbeat slow, his blood cool, and his shoulders tighten as though she reached her cold, pale hand right into his chest and squeezed his heart. Though Cress offered her a smile, he fought a scowl. She would cut his tongue out if he scowled.
Queene Levress’s sharp eyes cut to Thessalie like she wondered why the old scholar was there. “Prince,” she said to Cress, “I’ve come to deliver the tragic news myself.” Her white lashes glittered in the lanterns’ glow.
“Tell me your news, my Queene,” Cress said.
“A human assassin attacked us from across the gate. She killed a fairy of the North this morning. She must pay for it with her life, but I plan to wait until the new faeborn year to deal with it.”
“What?” Thessalie blanched at Cress’s side. “A human killed a fairy? That hasn’t happened in a hundred faeborn years—”
“Why have you come to tell me this yourself?” Cress cut off the scholar to ask the Queene.
Queene Levress looked at him for a long while, tapping her long nails together. “Because the murdered fairy was part of your Brotherhood,” the Queene said. “He was the second son of High Lord Gwess of our North Court.”
The life drained from Cress’s chest. “Whyp…?” he whispered.
“He crossed the gate against our laws. He would have likely been killed when he came back anyway.” The Queene glanced at her silver nails. “Thankfully, I had a spy following him who cleaned up the mess.”
The sky seemed to fall around the Crimson Glass Tower. Red pooled into Cress’s vision.
“Let me avenge him,” he begged through his teeth.
“No.”
“Please give me your blessing, Queene.”
“You don’t have it. You are my future son-in-law now, Prince. I forbid you from breaking the law and crossing the gate. That is why I came to tell you myself.” The Queene’s cruel lips tipped down. “Lord Gwess’s second son was hardly worth having around to begin with. He had measly half-power and an obnoxious laugh.”
Something snapped in Cress’s chest. “The High Court will demand that Whyp be avenged!” he shouted. “How can I come into power over the North before that human is killed and justice has been restored in our court?”
The Queene looked back and forth between his eyes. “That sounded dangerously close to defiance,” she said.
“You’ll send them to hunt the human, then?” Cress nodded toward the triad of kneeling males waiting beneath the lantern light. “I have been the North Court’s greatest assassin for over a decade,” he objected. “Can I not be granted this one request?”
“You attacked a lord of the East yesterday!” Her voice blasted through the room with the volume of a horn, and frost crawled up the walls. Cress and Thessalie slammed their hands over their ears; the kneeling assassins by the lanterns went rigid.
The Queene’s eyes narrowed. “The High Court will conspire against you if you disobey me. And no, I will not be sending your brother assassins after the human, either. There are more important things approaching in the new faeborn year—like the wedding. As I said, we will send an assassin to kill the human for breaking a fairy law in due time.”
Cress shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t do this to me—”
“Don’t you dare take a step toward that gate,” the Queene cautioned. “I will only give you one warning.” The Queene turned to leave, and the triad of assassins stood and bowed at their midsections. “Also… my crafters will be cutting your hair today, Cressica,” the Queene called back. “You cannot marry my daughter with hair that’s longer than hers.”
A muscle feathered in Cress’s jaw. “Do you know how long it took me to grow this hair?” he growled.
Groomers entered through the open study door carrying embellished scissors. The Queene cast him one last terrible smile before she left, leaving the assassins behind without giving them permission to stand. Her footsteps faded down the hall, and Cress fought the impulse to shout something horrific after her.
After a moment, the trio of assassins stood. Mor wandered over with a sigh. “Don’t mourn your hair, Cress,” he said. “With your pretty face and soft skin, it makes you look like a female anyway.”
Cress’s wide, deadly gaze slid over. “I’ll take your tongue—”
But Mor’s tongue was already stuck out, waiting.
Cress released a low growl and marched out of the study, shoving one of the crafters into the wall as he passed.
“Don’t do anything foolish, Cress!” Mor called after him.
“Killing a human can’t be that hard!” Cress shouted back. “I just need to speak her real name and command her to die!”
His boots thundered down the hall until he reached the crystal spiral staircase. He travelled down three levels into the dark pits of the Silver Castle where the cold morgue prepared faeborn bodies for candlelight ceremonies.
When Cress burst into the room, he found it empty of servants. But he saw Whyp. He saw the body of the golden-eyed fairy. His brother assassin.
Mor jogged in behind him. “Cress—”
“Steal his memories for me,” Cress said. “Just this once, Mor. Do this for me.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
Moisture filled the Prince’s turquoise eyes when he looked at his friend. “Have you ever done it before?” he asked, and Mor looked like he’d turned to faestone.
“Yes. Once,” he said.
Cress nodded and marched over to Whyp. “Good,” he said. “Do it, Mor. Please. I’ll never tell a soul that you used your Shadow Fairy gift. I want to see Whyp’s last moments. I want to feel what he felt as his faeborn heart stopped.”
“You can’t do anything about it, Cress,” Mor said quietly. “Promise me.”
Cress laid his hands along Whyp’s temples. “I can’t even take a breath anymore without the whole North High Court watching me. How could I do something about this?”
Mor hesitated, but after a moment, he drew over and placed his hands lightly over Cress’s on Whyp’s temples.
Immediately, Cress’s mind filled with a bright picture of a human female with brown-green eyes, dark burgundy hair, and a tattoo peeking from her yellow collar. A book was tucked beneath her arm. A name was scribbled on the back in shiny black ink.
