Heir to Elfhame,” I say. “Get on your knees.
I miss Faerieland with a raw intensity. It’s magic I long for, magic I miss. Maybe I even miss being afraid. I feel as though I am dreaming away my days, restless, never fully awake.
And while I didn’t think he was my friend, it didn’t mean I couldn’t be his.
So am I! And the only reason I’m in the human world is because Dad wants the stupid crown and you want it and everyone wants it. Well, I don’t. It’s cursed.
When he lay down in a pile of rushes and closed his eyes, I crept up to him and carefully covered him in dry leaves so that he would be warm.
I imagine giving up. No more peering through windows, mourning the loss of a life that could never again be mine. No more hopeless desire. No more uncertain future. No more terror.
I wonder what it would be like, to never have to be alone.
I cannot help observing that beneath his defiance is fear. I know what it is to say the clever thing because you don’t want anyone to know how scared you are. It doesn’t make me like him any better, but for the first time he seems real. Not good, but real.
Desire is an odd thing. As soon as it’s sated, it transmutes.
Vow she won’t be harmed,′ Oak says, breathing hard. ‘Also me. I would like not to be harmed as well.
Poison may be a coward’s weapon, but it’s an effective one.
If he were going to put regular people to death, he’d probably use some kind of cheap, regular person poison.
We caught a few courtiers speculating about assassinating the mortal queen. Their plans got blown up.′ A small smile crosses her face. ‘As did they.
Power,′ he said. ‘Power is the ability to get what you want. Power is the ability to be the one making the decisions.
His grin broadens, that charming smile, with which he could coax ducks to bring their own eggs to him for his breakfast. With which he could make delicate negotiations over a prisoner seem like nothing more than a game.
I would say that you lost yourself along the way, but you lost yourself far before that,′ the storm hag tells me as I pass her. ‘Wake up, little bird.
She had arrived in a gown of black silk beneath a cage of fish bones and shells, her deep aquamarine hair caught up in a crown of coral.
Many times in his first nine years, Prince Cardan slept in the hay of the stables when his mother didn’t want him in their suite of rooms. It was warm there, and he could pretend he was hiding, could pretend that someone was looking for him. Could pretend that when he was not found, it was only because the spot he’d chosen was so extremely clever.
Nothing is sweeter, but that which is scarce.
I am no closer to finding a way to get out of here and no clearer on my father’s plan. The only thing I am closer to is getting caught.