King of Merits: A Fae Romance (Black Blood Fae Book 3)

Merri

“Sister, have you heard the news?” Wyn and his wolf bang their way through two sets of sturdy doors to invade my bedchamber, disturbing my peaceful breakfast.

“Don’t tell me someone finally kicked you out of their bed, and you don’t know what to do with yourself so early in the morning. I’m afraid you won’t find a sympathetic ear here.”

Cara leaps from my lap to greet Ivor, who then chases her under my bed, barking loudly.

“Merri, this is shocking…” Wyn begins, his words trailing off as he paces the floor.

My eyes widen as I focus on what he’s wearing. “Why are you dressed in armor? You look very fine, but it’s a little excessive at this time of the day, even for you.”

Fingers raking through his dark locks, he stops before me and bends close. “Merri, Lidwinia and an army of Merits are marching through the Lowlands toward the Dún Mountains as we speak!”

“What?” I jolt upright, the tray of toast and tea crashing to the floor.

“They made it through Ithalah Forest and Mount Cúig without triggering any wards or causing any of the Folk to notice and send warnings to the keep. The Merits must be traveling under deep magic. Isla and Raff woke to a message from their princess declaring that she’s coming for her brother.”

“Her brother?”

“Yes, Riven, their king! In a preposterous turn of events, they believe we have him, and if he isn’t riding toward them by the time they pass through the Valley of Light, their war drums will begin to pound.”

“Oh no. No! This is terrible. Wyn, I…” My head spins, a chill creeping over my flesh. This is my fault. My problem. But how do I fix it and keep both Riven and my family safe? “Wyn—”

Muffled banging sounds behind me, a noise that doesn’t belong in an Elemental princess’s bedchamber.

My brother freezes, listening. “What is that?” he asks, his eyes sharpening to slits.

“What?” I smooth my features into a mask of innocence.

“That noise. Something’s in the wall behind your bed.”

Hell realms! Isla’s wards around my antechamber must be weakening.

“Now, don’t freak out…” I draw a sharp breath, fidgeting with my holey stone. “That noise you hear is actually…well, it’s the Merit king.”

Wyn’s skin leeches to white. “What, Merri? No. Please tell me I heard you wrong. Ah, gods, the Merits are going to pull our entrails out through our nostrils today.” He drops to the floor, his back against my bed, and buries his face on his drawn-up knees.

“Wyn, pull yourself together. I need your help, now more than I ever have. We need to get Riven out of here.”

“We? Who is this we you refer to? It must be some secret partner in crime that you speak of, because you cannot mean me, your devoted brother who you’ve chosen to keep your nefarious schemes hidden from.”

With shaking fingers, I throw a tunic on over my sleep shift. “We don’t have time for you to lose it, Wyn.”

“Who else knows?”

“Magret and Alorus.”

“Anyone else?”

“There might be one other,” I say, refusing to meet Wyn’s steely gaze.

“Who?” he bites out.

“Isla.”

“Who?” He barks a laugh, rising to his feet in a single sinuous movement. “For a ridiculous moment, I thought you said…Wait…you’re telling me the queen knows?”

“Yes. Isla knows.”

Wyn commences treading the boards. “And the king?”

I sit on my bed and tug on leather boots. “No. Raff has no idea.”

Wynter pales further. “I see. The plot thickens. So, what cunning plan have you devised to get us all out of this mess?”

“I’m crafting it as we speak.”

“Right. So, making it up as you go, then. Shouldn’t you have anticipated and prepared for this outcome?”

“You’re right, Wyn. But we didn’t predict Kian’s meddling. When blackmailing me didn’t work, he obviously went straight to the Merits with his snitch-report.”

“Whenever that red-headed peacock sticks his nose in, you have to act quickly to shut him down. It was reckless of you to assume he would leave it at that.”

“I know. I’ve been…distracted.” I strap leather armor to my chest, then hang my bow and quiver over my shoulder. “I underestimated the damage he was prepared to do in pursuit of power.”

“And in pursuit of you, Sister. You’re what he wants above all else.”

That idea turns my stomach. “The damage is done. Forget Kian. Let’s concentrate on fixing this.”

Wyn stops pacing. “Our family is already riding out to meet the Merits.”

“And why did no one think to tell me this?”

“Probably because they feared you’d do something stupid and get yourself killed.”

Fair point. I cringe as I imagine their shock and fury when they discovered Isla and I have been harboring the Unseelie king right under their noses.

“Okay, we have to hurry then. I’m assuming Isla will tell Lidwinia what happened to Riven and that she’s taken good care of him while waiting for a reply from the Merit Court. That might buy us some time. I need you to help me get the king on a horse. We’ll face our family and the Merit princess on the battlefield, then hand Lidwinia her brother while grovelling. A lot. Come quickly. Help me, Wyn. Please.”

I unlock the antechamber door and shove it. It doesn’t move. I could raise a wind and force it open, but I need to conserve my limited stores of magic in case I need to use it on the Lowlands. “Wyn, help,” I say over my shoulder.

Calling on the power of stone, he pushes a shoulder into the oak, and the door clunks open, sending Riven flying across the antechamber.

“Out of your chains and eavesdropping, were you?” I ask.

On the floor, Riven reclines on an elbow, wearing a crooked smile. “When Magret brought breakfast, I recited a druid poem for her amusement. She forgot to refasten them.”

Wyn makes a dramatic bow. “Your Majesty, I’m Wynter Ashton Fionbharr, son of Prince Everend and Princess Lara, brother to Merr—”

“Yes, I’m well aware of who you are. Help me up, I stood by that door so long, hoping to hear my suspicions confirmed, my limbs have gone to sleep.” Riven’s eyes snap from my brother back to me. “Is it true, Merrin? My sister has come for me?”

“Yes,” I admit. “Bad timing since we were almost ready to send you home.”

“I dreamed of this very outcome three nights ago. That’s why I’ve been constantly asking to see you.”

A mixture of dread and guilt pools in my stomach. I’ve been avoiding him, which was foolish. “What happened in your dream?”

“Oh, nothing of consequence,” he says in a tone that suggests the exact opposite. “I only witnessed Lidwinia make plans to destroy the entire Elemental kingdom!”

“Why would she do that?” asks Wyn.

“Because someone by the name of Kian sent her a charming message informing her that your sister and your queen are holding me captive.”

“Kian!” I shout. “That backstabbing conniver. He’s really done it this time. Wait until Father hears.”

Wyn helps Riven to his feet. The king is already dressed in the tunic, leather pants, and breastplate he wore on the day of Isla’s picnic.

“How did you know your sister was on the way?” I ask.

“At sunrise, I felt Meerade’s presence near the castle. She sent me pictures of Lidwinia dressed in armor and riding Rothlo through your Valley of Light.”

“Rothlo?” Wyn’s eyes grow round as saucers. “Is that the arachnid monster I’ve heard many gruesome tales about?”

“Yes, that’s Rothlo. Most often she appears the size of a tree spider, as pretty as a gold-dipped jewel, and is relatively harmless. If you’re nice to Lidwinia, that is.”

“Pretty or not, I’m not too keen to make her acquaintance,” admits Wyn. “Let’s get you down to the stables. Can you send a message to your sister to let her know you’re safe and on your way?”

“Unfortunately not. So we must hurry. Lidwinia has a temper and is capable of wreaking immeasurable damage.”

While Wyn checks that the corridor outside my chambers is clear, Riven fixes me with those sorrowful, iridescent eyes. “What’s your plan, Princess?”

“A simple one. To ride like the wind and present you to your sister before she starts an all-out war. You should follow Wyn, and be quick about it.”

I hurry over to my bed and tuck the covers around Cara, assuring her that I’ll return soon and all will be well. Within moments, she’s snoring again, and I’m feeling very grateful for my ability to lie. If things go badly, I may never see her again.

The three of us enter the castle’s web of internal passageways through a door hidden behind a tapestry in the hall. The main passage follows the external walls of the castle, after a time descending toward the stables. I summon fireflies through cracks in the jet bricks and they form a circle of light to guide us.

We drop through the trapdoor into Jinn’s empty stable and find Wyn’s dappled silver stallion, Tier, already saddled and stamping the ground with impatience. I quickly saddle Nahla, while Wyn prepares Berry for Riven. Although majestic and tall, she despises battles, hence no rider chose her today. But I know she’ll remain calm no matter what happens on the plains, so she’ll keep Riven safe.

Vaulting onto Nahla’s back, I whisper an entreaty to the wind, calling upon its magic to carry us with speed toward the Dún Mountains. My hair floats around me like it’s made of feathers, and I feel the Merit’s hard gaze on me as he climbs into the saddle.

As Wyn mounts Tier, he gives a terrible yell and Ivor appears at the stables’ entrance, barking as he joins us. Then we’re off, the three of us leaning low over our horses’ flying manes.

In no time at all, we’re through the city’s jade gates and galloping over the golden bridge that leads to the Lowlands, leaving the black-faced cliffs and gushing waterfalls of the town behind us.

After a while, seven tiny arcs appear in the sky circling above the Dún Mountains, Father’s órga falcons.

A little farther on and the flat plains reveal two large groups of fae standing opposite each other underneath a dark, leaden sky. At this distance, they look roughly the size of toy soldiers, their armor flashing in the rays of light that break through Father’s storm clouds, his fury on display for all to see.

As we ride closer, in the open terrain between the two courts, I pick out Raff and Isla in their glowing armor, flanked by the mages protecting their rulers. Opposite them is Lidwinia, the reptilian-tongued Merit princess in all her glory, sitting atop the gigantic Rothlo.

The stories haven’t done Lidwinia justice. She’s far more terrifying in the flesh, her battle-ready posture and savage gaze suggesting she can’t wait to gnaw upon our freshly stripped bones.

Without warning, a volley of arrows flies through the air, striking Elemental shields on the front line. “Those assholes,” I shout, and the Merit king flicks a scowl my way.

“What? I think you can forgive me for swearing in your illustrious presence since your army is trying to kill my family!”

“If that were true, your king and queen would no longer be standing,” he replies. “The arrows were a warning.”

“This is not the time to argue,” Wyn yells as Tier gallops past us.

He’s right. We can’t afford to waste a single breath. I lean close to Nahla’s ear and whisper, “Rás na gaoithe, Nahla, téigh! Go! Go!”

Our horses’ hooves barely touching the earth, we race toward King Rafael, who raises his hand high, a sign for our archers to draw their bows.

No. No. Don’t fire back, Raff!

I release the reins and stand in the stirrups, my arms reaching for the sky as I prepare to draw down the power of thunder and lightning.

Suddenly, a black and white bird shoots out from the clouds above the battlefield, Meerade, screeching, “The Silver King. The Silver King comes,” as she swoops toward us.

Armor crunches as every warrior turns in our direction and Riven’s owl lands on his left shoulder. “Halt!” commands the Silver King. “Courts of Light and Dark, lay your weapons down.”

Steel clanks as bows and swords are tossed to the ground, the sound calming my speeding heart rate as all fae obey. All except my father.

“Ever, stand down,” says Isla, her clear voice ringing out.

Father moves toward our queen, wind whipping his hair around his face. “I don’t take orders from the Merit scum who tried to kill my beloved daughter. Even if he were King of All That Is, I wouldn’t bow before him.”

Mother touches his arm, whispering words in his ear. Releasing a harsh sigh, he flings his sword onto the grass.

With Riven riding between us, Wyn and I guide our steeds past our family, then cautiously into the center of the field.

“Wait here,” Riven tells us, continuing on toward Rothlo, who ranges back and forth in front of the Merit army.

Behind us, I hear Raff’s voice. “Do you see, Lidwinia? It is just as my queen reported. Your brother is safe, guarded by our honorable Princess of Air.”

Cries of “Our king, our king” resound as the Merit warriors bow their heads low at the sight of Riven. Unfortunately, Lidwinia doesn’t seem as pleased as the rest of her court.

The long spikes of Riven’s ghostly crown have materialized, opaque and solid this time, as if one could be broken off and plunged like a dagger between an enemy’s rib bones.

Lidwinia glares at Raff over the tips of Riven’s crown. “My brother did you say and not King Riven? Your form of address makes clear your disrespect for him.”

Riven gestures for Raff to remain silent. “Lidwinia, dearest sister, I’m overjoyed to see you, immensely grateful that you’ve come to my aid, but it wasn’t necessary. The tale our old friend Rafael tells is true. Princess Merrin found me injured on the mountain. She saved my life and nursed me back to health in secret to ensure my safety.”

While Riven speaks, I dismount Nahla, preparing to address the Merit princess on foot, so I appear peaceful, vulnerable.

“But who injured you, Riven?” asks Lidwinia. “That is the question most in need of an answer.”

“You’re right, Princess Lidwinia,” I say, stepping forward. “And our court will not rest until the perpetrator is found and brought to justice. But you must believe me when I vow that your brother was detained in our land only to give him time to heal before he returned home. It was not I who shot him with a poisoned arrow, nor any member of my court, as far as I’m aware.”

Lidwinia snorts. “As far as you are aware? How diplomatic of you. And do you think I’m foolish enough to believe the unreliable word of a halfling?” Her gaze moves to Riven. “Tell me, Brother, did the Elemental princess lock you in a cell?”

“No,” he replies. “I was held in a room behind Princess Merrin’s chambers to keep me safe from…from those who wouldn’t look favorably upon my presence.”

Eyes the color of golden maple leaves glower. “And were you kept in chains?”

“Yes,” says Riven, his fists clenching at his sides. “But not all of the time and—”

“Thank you, Brother. That is all the information I require. Merrin Fionbharr, there is no doubt you held our king prisoner.” A thin black tongue lashes between her lips. She flicks her reins, and the giant spider creeps forward, golden legs circling over the bright-green grass around me.

Lidwinia’s gaze burns my skin, and I raise my chin in defiance. The spider rears up, its forelegs and pincer-like fangs slicing the air above me. It emits sickening clicking noises that I long to protect my ears from, but I stand tall, refusing to be cowered by this gilded insect. Even though I long to react, I don’t step away or resort to a blast of defensive air magic.

As I take a breath to speak, I square my shoulders and force my chin higher. “The chains were only required for my protection and—”

“For your protection?” the Merit princess yells as Rothlo lunges close.

Riven pushes me behind him. “Lidwinia, I beg you to wait. Please!”

“Fine,” she growls out, spinning her creature in a wild circle before stopping in front of me. “If you wish it, Brother, I shall hear the air princess’s case and judge its worth, But if it displeases me, then I’ll soon be delighting in her cries for mercy.”

I take a step closer to the princess, and my father’s wind magic rushes forward, circling me, my hair and cloak swirling in the mini tornado.

“If you must take revenge, then take it on me alone. I won’t fight back, because I’ve done nothing wrong, and if you end my life, all will forever know you as a killer of innocents. I’m not to blame for what befell your king, nor do I hold any ill-will or malicious intent toward him.”

That’s not entirely true since my strongest and most bizarre wish is to keep him in my land, close by. Not to hurt him, just to… I still don’t understand what I want with him. But I need to solve the mystery of my dreams about him.

In all truth, I’m as fascinated by the Merit king as I am afraid of him and the strange power he holds over me.

“Sister,” says Riven, palms raised as he walks to my side. “I beg you to leave Merrin Fionbharr in peace. She has not sought to hurt me. She saved my life, tried to heal me. In what realm do those acts require punishment? Without her help I would have perished in the forest. Think. Her queen is not our enemy; her people are innocent. It saddens me to see you warmongering as our father and brother once did.”

“The Elementals innocent? And what of the halfling’s father, the Prince of Air? He has been heard calling for your head to decorate their castle’s tallest spire of emerald. Is he also blameless?”

“Everend was unaware I was a resident of the Emerald Castle these past days. So, in this instance, he bears no blame. Make Rothlo stand down.”

Lidwinia pulls her creature up but doesn’t withdraw. “If the Elementals are faultless, then why was I not told you were here under the Fire queen’s protection?”

“Lidwinia,” says Isla. “On the evening I learned of your king’s presence, I sent a salamander messenger to your court and others over the following days.”

“Which strangely did not arrive. Do you expect me to believe a Seelie queen’s magic could be intercepted?” asks Lidwinia.

“Indeed. You didn’t receive my messages, so it must have been tampered with on several occasions,” replies our queen, entwining her fingers with Raff’s.

“How? And by whom?” the Merit princess thunders.

“I might have an idea,” I say. “Kian, come here.”

Shouts and mutterings fill the air until, finally, Kian is dragged forward, spluttering nonsense as he struggles to break away from the royal guards Orlinda and Marlin. They toss him like a bale of hay, and he lands on his knees in front of Raff.

“Tell them what you did,” I say, taking a gamble that Riven’s vision reflected real events.

Flames curl from our king’s fingertips as thunder rumbles across the sky.

Kian bows his head. “My King, I am innocent.”

Raff snorts. “Innocent of what, precisely?”

Long locks of Kian’s hair flutter in his ragged, panted breaths, but no words pass his lips.

Flames leap from the king’s hands and circle Kian’s body, not quite touching his clothes. “I want you to name it, Kian Leondearg,” says Raff. “Now!”

“I…” Kian’s silver shoulder pauldrons quake. “Your Majesty, I believe I have done no wrong.”

Raff sighs, then leans into Kian’s face. “I lose patience with you, old friend. Did you intercept my queen’s messages to Lidwinia na Duinn or interfere in matters pertaining to the Merit king in any way shape or form?”

The sky ceases its rumbling. The wind stills, and even the blades of grass and tiny creatures cowering between them freeze. Not a sound can be heard as we wait for Kian to speak.

“Answer your king!” my father demands as he comes to stand beside Raff and Isla.

Kian sobs quietly.

“By the count of three, speak the words yes or no, or I will crush your lungs and give them to Balor for dinner,” says Father. “One… Two…”

“Wait!” Kian raises his tear-stained face. “No. I didn’t stop any of the queen’s messages, but I sent one of my own, advising the Merits where their king was held.”

“Do you know who shot Riven na Duinn?” Father asks.

“I’m not certain. I suspect I saw them briefly in the in-between land, conjuring the fog. I believe the being responsible was well-veiled, hidden.”

“Do you recall anything about them?” demands Raff.

“No, nothing.”

The king folds his arms across his chest, the air around him rippling with heat as he readies to unleash fireballs and cremate the foolish fae before him. “Fae or beast, give me the name at once.”

“I don’t know it!”

Father’s lips twist in disgust. “Ether, come quickly.”

The High Mage materializes between the king and my father, her black eyes wild and fearsome. Cotton-candy hair billows around her shoulders as she smiles, her expression both cunning and benign. “My King, My Prince, how may I help you?”

“Can you make Kian remember?” Raff grins. “Use any method you must.”

Ether closes her eyes and reaches for Kian’s neck, her palms hovering above his royal blue leather doublet. Words in the ancient tongue spill from her lips, making the world spin fast around us. The Dún Mountains quake, every blade of grass writhes, and the ground roars beneath us.

The moment Ether’s eyes open, the storm subsides. “His memory is bound. I cannot break it.”

Instead of devastated, she looks strangely pleased by her apparent failure.

Father looms over Kian. “So, you wrote to the Merits without consulting us, putting blame upon my daughter and your queen? Your treachery is complete then, and we are done with you, Kian Leondearg.”

“You have always been done with me, Ever. You’ve never accepted me, never considered me a worthy match for your daughter. Well, now I have brought your enemies down upon you and the kingdom’s inferior Queen of Five.”

Fury flashes across father’s face as lightning strikes the sky. While thunder rumbles, Father says not a word, his silence a warning for Kian to run. And run fast.

In a dangerous move, Kian spits near Father’s boots. “This is what I think of the pitiful human brides you and our king inflicted upon our kingdom.”

The Prince of Air laughs. “And yet you want a half-human bride for your own. What does that make you, Kian? Me thinks if not a hypocrite, then certainly the lowest kind of fool.”

As Father circles him, each thud of his boots creates a clap of thunder. My hands tremble as I feel him call forth the power of the storm. Electricity flashes in silver arcs around his head and hands. The air magic in my blood sizzles, nearly bursting from my skin.

“Brother, be calm,” says Raff. “As king, it’s my duty to decide Kian’s fate, but in this instance, I’ll ask Isla to decree a suitable punishment. It was her reign that Kian sought to end with his traitor’s note.”

Standing silent and regal, the Merit king, his sister, and our court’s mages watch intently as our Fire queen steps forward. With a slash of Isla’s palm above Kian’s head, the flames surrounding him disappear. “Kian, when will you learn that love cannot be bought or sold, forced or fabricated? You can only earn it with kind words, honorable deeds, and a pure and ardent heart—and sometimes by cooking your beloved delicious treats. Wake up. Bury your malice and dark obsessions, for they will never serve you well.”

“Yes, My Queen,” he whispers, eyes demurely downcast as if he hadn’t declared his hatred for her only a moment ago.

A soft smile curves Isla’s lips. “Kian Leondearg, I sentence you to be forever banished from the Emerald Castle, the city of Talamh Cúig, and the Land of Five and all its surrounds and people. Anyone who finds you in our kingdom has my permission to put you to death and will suffer no consequences for their actions.”

Murmurs rustle through the air—I hear every one of them, outraged and shocked by our queen’s leniency. The loudest, most furious mutterings belong to Lidwinia. “Why do you not cleave his head from his shoulders?” she asks, standing tall in Rothlo’s stirrups.

“Murder, so final and everlasting, is never our preference,” Raff replies. “The queen’s penalty is fair and just, and clever in that its torment will last a lifetime. The terror of an execution is but fleeting. It won’t be an easy life for Kian out in the wild lands, shunned even by untamed fae who encounter him.”

“Although, I’d prefer to finish him off here and now,” Father says. “At least I’ll have something new and interesting to hunt besides draygonets. I shall look forward to the sport.”

Riven emits a shrill whistle and Meerade, still perched on his shoulder, shrieks, “Raghnall! Raghnall! Show yourself.”

With a loud whinny, Riven’s mare trots up to her master.

I’ve heard tales of Riven’s horse’s beauty, and not one was an exaggeration. With her rippling muscles, shining silver coat, and iron-gray mane threaded with moonstone and jet, she’s a magnificent beast, who’s very pleased to be reunited with the king.

“Raghnall,” Riven croons. “It’s good to see you.” He strokes her nose, then swings into the saddle before turning to his sister. “All is well, Lidwinia. Let’s return home and leave the Elementals in peace and with our thanks.”

The king’s gaze settles on the tip of my left ear. “Princess Merrin, given the situation, I dare not offer you friendship, but you will always have my gratitude. May you be happy and well.” He dips his head, flashes me a crooked smile, and then turns his horse about, riding through the line of Merit warriors before I can say goodbye.

Lidwinia’s consort swoops from the Merits’ front line and drops into the saddle behind his princess. “Hello, Queen Isla. King Rafael,” he says, his black wings folding behind him as he inclines his dark head.

“Elas, I’m relieved we won’t be killing each other today,” says Isla.

“Perhaps next time,” interrupts Lidwinia, shocking us all with a broad smile. “You’ll be hearing from me after I’ve had a long talk with Riven. I’m sure I’ll be calm and reasonable by then.”

“I’m certain you will be,” says Isla. “Travel well. I plan to speak with Prince Ever, too. I’d like his agreement to invite you to Samhain again this year. We used to enjoy your court’s company in the days before your mother passed to the Eighth Realm and Temnen came of age. After that, when El Fannon and Temnen attended alone, Merit company lost its shine.”

With a cheery salute, the more than slightly deranged Merit Princess rides away, her formidable army turning as one to follow.

“She’s really quite lovely when you’re on her good side,” says Isla, and Raff breaks into loud laughter.

Riven releases his horse’s reins, and he and Elas open their arms wide, their fingers reaching for the sky.

A long gash appears in the landscape, displaying a black background dotted with stars and bolts of red energy swirling over it. The Merits ride through the large fissure, vanishing as the magical gateway seals behind them.

Wow. I blink several times, hoping for a final glimpse of Riven’s black crown, but it’s too late, and all I can see is sky and grass.

Did the king really open a portal, or did a glamor just render the Merits invisible? Either way, Riven is gone, and I doubt I’ll ever see him again. Sharp pain twists in my chest, like a knife scraping my ribcage hollow.

Why should it hurt to watch him leave, the fae who likely wants me dead?

I focus on the memory of the in-between place—the frozen pond, the snow, the blade in Riven’s hand. I close my eyes, but see only his lips, the corners curved in kissable arcs. The most affecting smile I’ve ever seen, because it’s rare. And honest.

Suddenly, the sky goes black, the lowlands first darkening then completely disappearing, and I’m thrown into a nightmare vision. Aodhan grown, his body tall and muscled but his once fiery eyes dull, translucent, and the veins on his arms and neck mottled gray—riddled with the Black Blood poison.

No.

The image wavers, and I see an enormous oak tree surrounded by twelve cloaked men, druids chanting at night, the black towers of the Merit Castle illuminated behind them in a flash of forked lightning.

One by one the hooded figures speak, a pledge, a promise. “We vow to protect the key to the riddle of the curse of the Elemental line until such time as the sacred peace-bringers unite—in snow and blood—so mote it be.”

The tallest figure turns and looks right at me, eyes of vivid purple boring into my soul. Another crash of lightning and the tree explodes, and I’m shot back to the plains, my legs trembling, my heart quaking.

Could this be true? Is it possible that the Merits could be hiding the answer to the end of the Black Blood curse? If so…I can’t tell Father or the king—that would mean war. But what if I could find a way to journey there and seek it myself?

“Oh, Merrin darling,” calls a voice that, unfortunately, sounds a lot like Mother’s and tears me from my tumultuous speculations.

I glance over my shoulder and see her and Dad staring at me with matching knitted brows. I guess I’m in trouble, and it’s time to face the music. Smiling innocently, I stride toward them and hope they don’t notice my shaking hands.

Mother links her arm through mine and pulls me in the direction of the castle.

“But…what about Nahla? We can’t walk all the way home.” I point to my horse eating grass nearby.

“Don’t worry,” Mom replies. “Wyn will see her back home safely.”

My brother ties my horse’s halter rope to Tier’s saddle pack, his green eyes and a smirk flashing amid unruly strands of black hair. I blow him a kiss, which he catches as he laughs.

“We have a lot to talk about, Merri,” says Father.

“Oh, joy,” I mutter, his armor scraping my flesh as I take his arm.

“So,” he says in a disturbingly calm voice. “How shall we punish you for deceiving us and keeping a Merit who once tried to kill you hidden in your rooms?”

“Punish me?” Ugh. I wish I’d bolted for Nahla and ridden away. “But there’s no need. I had the queen’s full support. We couldn’t tell you, Father, because of your illogical unreasonableness when it comes to Riven na Duinn. Surely, you understand that.”

Thunder rumbles overhead. “Illogical! I am not—”

“Ever, leave her be.” Mom stops and whistles for her horse, a dappled gray stallion she named after her human boss, Max. Jinn appears first, trotting through the army of Elemental warriors, Max’s white mane flying close behind.

My parents mount their horses, then Father extends his hand and pulls me up in front of him. “Merri is correct to point out the queen’s role in this matter,” he says to Mom. “It’s Isla who must be dealt with.”

“Good luck with that,” I say. “No doubt she’ll turn you into a tall piece of charcoal.” I laugh partly in relief as we take off at great speed, because continuing this conversation while riding will be impossible.

When we arrive on the silver pathway before the Great Hall, we pass our horses’ reins to the guards. My mother kisses my cheeks, advising me to return to my chambers to rest, and I smile and nod as if I plan to do just that. But I have other ideas.

I clutch the holey stone around my neck, and something unfurls in my chest, a warm feeling of certainty, a crazy scheme unfolding.

My wild dreams have meaning—the snow, the blood—I’m sure of it now. I have a role to play in the Silver King’s fate—to save him from untimely death, just as I did in the forest. This is my destiny, to do it again. And again and again if necessary.

Other things I must spend time considering are his fleeting smiles and the way he watches me. And kisses me.

Whatever this strange allure is…I’m resolved to explore it.

I can’t leave things like this.

I won’t.

Then there’s the vision of Aodhan and the key to the Black Blood curse that’s possibly hidden somewhere in the Merit City. The idea that I could save them both—a current king and a future one.

Heat floods my veins—a mixture of fear, excitement, and…something I dare not name.

The dark clouds part, clearing the sky.

“Riven,” I whisper. “You think you’ve seen the last of me, but I promise that you haven’t. Not by a long shot.”