Merri
alarming sound: Kian’s shrill voice bleating in my ear.
“The Merit king has infiltrated our lands,” he announces as if speaking from a high lectern, his words vibrating against my cheek.
What? Where am I?
My eyes fly open to find my nose squashed against Kian’s indigo-blue cape. Ugh. Revolting! Now I feel even worse than I did before I passed out on the plains, whenever that was. Earlier today? Another lifetime ago?
I groan and clutch my head.
“The Merit king? No. That’s not possible.” Across the room and moving closer, my father’s voice sends cool strands of air magic to enfold me, soothing my aching lungs. “Put her on the couch, Kian. Quickly. She’s waking up, and when she does, it won’t do her any good to find herself in your clutching embrace.”
Father. He knows me so well.
Sinking back against soft cushions, I gaze at a flock of falcons painted on the walls, their wings outstretched as they spiral toward the ceiling until they become tiny specks of gold. Falcons. I must be in my parents’ chambers, then.
Clothes swish and people whisper as they bustle around me. Cara snuggles into my shoulder. Balor’s nose wets my cheek, and Spark is crouched over a platter atop a sideboard, munching on slices of apple and tossing discarded pieces over her shoulder onto the floor, ever the disorderly creature.
“Drink this,” Isla says as she sits next to me.
Before I can hoist myself onto an elbow, she spoons a tonic into my mouth. I splutter, coughing up the sweet liquid. “How long were we gone?” I ask.
My mother stands before me in the dull light, a sweet-smelling shadow of silk and warmth, and bends to press her hand on my forehead. “Not long.” She wraps a green and gold robe around her chest, and under it, her skin is bare. Frowning, she drops onto the divan beside me. “It’s just past lunchtime, sweetheart.”
“Lunchtime?” I lurch upright, nearly toppling Mom and Isla from the couch. “That’s not right! We were gone for ages—hours and hours. I’m sure of it.”
On the other side of the room, the rumpled bedclothes on my parents’ gigantic four-poster bed come into focus. “If that’s true, then why are you guys getting out of bed in the middle of the day? I saw you at breakfast and…” Then I notice Father’s cobweb-gray shirt, the buttons misaligned, his barbed silver circlet sitting askew, not on his head but on Mother’s, her red hair twisted and tangled around it. “Oh, right,” I mumble. “Please don’t answer my question.”
My parents don’t even try to hide their grins. Father squeezes Mom’s shoulder then joins King Raff on the couch opposite me.
Silvery veils flutter in the tall lancet windows flung open to reveal the distant Dún Mountains, the light turning Dad and Raff into glittering silhouettes.
Leaning forward, his gold eyes grave, Raff says, “Tell us everything that happened, Merri. Begin at the start.”
Hands clasped behind his back and lips forming the shape of a dried prune, Kian struts to my side then points at me. “I can tell you what happened. The Merit king attacked her!”
“What?” choruses my family, all glaring at me with either worry or fury, or varying degrees of both.
Thunder rumbles nearby, the room darkening then flashing white as lightning streaks overhead. I flinch. Spark screeches, leaping off the table then scampering into Raff’s arms. Given the little lightning display, I’d say Father is the most furious of them all.
“Dad, please. Just let me explain,” I say. “Kian is exaggerating. Be calm and let me tell you the whole story. It’s not that bad. I promise.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “How does one exaggerate an attack, Merri? It either happened or it didn’t.”
“Ever, let her speak,” says Mom, and the thunder quiets, rumbling far off in the distance. Only Mother calms his storms with ease, one look, a soft word. A loving touch.
Silver eyes skewer me. “Then you had better hurry up and tell it,” he growls out. “Because I am inclined to leave this room at a run, saddle Jinn, and head south toward the Merit kingdom. My sword has much to say to Riven na Duinn. And me? I have only three words. Die, you—”
“Brother!” Raff’s palm shoots out. “Please. Stay and listen to Merri’s tale. An all-out war with the Merits is not the answer. It never has been. You know this.”
Burrowing into the cushions, I take a sip from the goblet of water Isla passes me. I clear my throat. “So, after breakfast, I rode out toward the mountains, thinking only of riding fast, feeling the wind in my hair. But before long, Nahla didn’t seem herself, and by the time I realized she was unwell, she was unsteady on her feet, and it was too late—we were lost. If I had to guess the cause? To me, she seemed spellbound.”
“How did you become lost so close to home?” asks Raff. “Did you make it past the mountains?”
Passing the goblet back to Isla, I shake my head. “No, we were on the plains and mist came out of nowhere and surrounded us, transporting us to a forest glade. There was a beautiful clear pond, and I was overtaken by thirst. When I dismounted to take a drink, a stranger appeared from the trees. The Merit king, although, at the time, I didn’t know who he was.”
“And he attacked you for no reason?” asks Isla.
“No! He seemed as shocked by my appearance as I was by his. We spoke. I tried to find out who he was, but he wasn’t very keen to tell me. It started snowing. Some of the flakes were bloody. What can I say? The whole experience was strange, out of place, out of time. But never at any point did I feel that he wanted to hurt me.”
Isla’s hand rests on my knee, her gold gown shimmering as she leans close. “What did he look like, Merri?”
I take a breath, then pause for a moment, wondering how to describe such a singular, ethereal creature. “A star,” I whisper. “A celestial being.”
Isla smiles, an impish light twinkling in her blue eyes.
“And when it began snowing, he drew his sword?” asks Raff.
“No. Kian sneaked up and startled us. That was when Riven went for his sword. I think Kian’s arrival caused the problem.”
Kian’s back stiffens, his proud expression souring. “You were fortunate I was there to save your life, Merrin!”
I snort. “Save me? Right now, I’m wondering if it was your fault I found myself in that enchanted forest in the first place. In the stables, before I rode out, Nahla wasn’t herself. As I mentioned before, I suspect she was spellbound. Did you enchant her, Kian?”
Everyone stares at the vain, red-haired troublemaker. The air thrums so hard from Father’s fury that glasses tremble on all surfaces.
A deep scarlet blooms over Kian’s face. “I…I would never hurt you, Merrin. Surely, you must know that.” He turns to my father. “Ever, my dear friend. You know I’d never wish harm to befall your child, don’t you?”
Slowly, Father stands. A chair smashes against the marble floor as he removes it from his path with an explosion of air magic. He stalks forward, cracking his knuckles one at a time in the way he usually does when he’s about to shift into his griffin or wreak havoc upon some poor soul or unlucky town.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Ever, please!” Kian inches backward. “You must know that Merrin is precious to me.”
Father’s nose wrinkles. “The scent of misdeeds sullies the air. It reeks of your brand of mischief, Kian. So. Answer the question and answer it without evasion. Now! Did you or did you not enchant my daughter’s horse?”
“No,” Kian says, white swallowing the pretty cornflower blue of his eyes as the odor of fear permeates the air.
“No, what?” Father growls, slamming his fist on the sideboard.
Kian pivots on his heels and scurries toward the door like a terrified mouse.
Isla moves to stand beside my father. Purple flames shoot from her palm, aimed at Kian. “Stop walking, Kian Leondearg. Answer Ever’s question or I’ll begin asking my own. But be warned, a queen’s interrogation is not easily lived through.”
Kian takes another step and his red mane bursts into flames. He pats his head, leaping and squealing like an angry changeling.
Queen Isla smiles.
Spinning like a top, Kian screams and screams until he finally gives in. “All right. All right,” he says in a weak voice. “I beg you to put the flames out. I shall answer the stupid question.”
The fire disappears, and he strokes his undamaged hair, which is as bright and lustrous as ever.
“Did you use a spell on Nahla today?” Raff asks. “Think carefully before you attempt to evade the question again.”
Kian’s shoulders curl forward as his palms open in surrender at his sides. “Yes. Yes, I did it.”
A wild wind circles the room as Father takes several steps forward, crashing goblets, books, and platters to the floor.
“Wait! Please,” begs Kian. “Please, Prince Everend. I have more to say.”
Power vibrates against my skin, the sizzle before Dad’s storm breaks. The intense energy presses against my limbs, holding me in place and preventing me from leaping on Kian and scratching his deceitful eyes out.
My parents’ chamber disappears; in its place, an image flashes across my mind of Kian lying among ruins, those cornflower eyes fixed on the sky in an unseeing gaze. A sun emblem glitters on his forehead, a tattoo or magical glyph, I can’t tell which. Heart pounding, I focus on his vacant death stare, a flicker of hope igniting in my chest.
Could this be a promise of things to come?
As terrible as it is to wish for his demise, I can’t help it. My family has waited a long time for a reason to give Kian what he deserves. To deal out retribution for his forever meddling in our lives, causing grief and heartache for his own amusement. Well, now that the moment has finally arrived, we’re all frozen, silenced by the shock of his treachery.
King Raff is the first to move. “So be it. What you did, Kian, was a deliberate act of harm that could have resulted in, at best, Merri’s kidnap, or at worst, her death. Some would go as far as to call it treason. Therefore, the punishment shall fit the crime.” He lifts his hand, readying to signal the guards.
“Wait!” says Mom. “First let him explain why he did it. It’s only fair.” Mother. Her heart is soft, perhaps because of the human sentiment still residing deep within it.
Kian’s steel-capped shoulders drop, his gaze skimming the floor—probably searching for a crack that might open and swallow him whole.
Raff nods. “Fine. Explain, then. Why did you do this terrible thing?”
Kian lifts his chin. “I only wished to draw Merri away from court to speak with her alone. It’s no secret that I have long admired her, but no matter what I do, I cannot seem to hold her attention. I used a disorientation spell on Nahla and then tracked their progress so that when they faltered, I could be the one to come to Merri’s aid and grow in her esteem.”
Ugh. My stomach lurches, a cold sensation slicing up my insides. Even when Wyn and I were children, Kian creeped me out. He was always lurking around the periphery of our games, preening and gloating like a demented peacock.
“How did you obtain the power to create such a spell?” asks Isla. “Your earth magic couldn’t create a forest glade out of the Lowland plains without assistance.”
His chest puffs as he prepares to boast. “As you correctly assume, Your Majesty, I didn’t summon the glade. I was as surprised to see it as Nahla and Merri were. I lost my bearings in the mist, and it took an age for me to locate them. The glade was no creation of mine. Would that I had the skills to manifest such glorious spaces instead of manipulating soil and producing gemstones at will.”
Earth magic is actually very cool, and Kian has always been an ungrateful fool, coveting what others have instead of appreciating his own gifts and talents.
Kian’s gaze catches mine. “Princess, I saw the Merit in the act of drawing his blade even before he heard me arrive. I swear it was so.”
And fae cannot lie. So it must be true. My heart sinking, I look away.
“That is troubling news indeed,” Raff says. “But, Kian, hankering after what you cannot have was always going to bring about your downfall. Vow now to let go of your fixation on Merri, be the friend and loyal servant that she deserves and your punishment will be mild. This time. But if you bother her again, banishment will be your best fate—the worst, I promise you, does not bear thinking about. Ever, what do you recommend he suffer for his crime?”
“To begin with, a night in the dungeons, just as he tried to inflict upon Isla when she first arrived in our lands, and I’ll bestow a fitting penance in the morning.” Dad cracks his knuckles. “I’d like to consider all the options.”
“As you wish, Brother,” says Raff, the golden wands of citrine in his crown gleaming as bright as his grin.
The guards, Orlinda and her mate, Marlin, lead Kian from the room, and Isla sits down beside me, sighing loudly. “I can’t believe Riven meant to harm you,” she says. “What about you, Raff? Do you think he could’ve changed so much since the time we were the Merits’ prisoners? He was our ally then.”
“No.” The king frowns. “Back when he was only a prince, his greatest ambition was to create peace between our lands. Yes, he is a Merit and therefore not entirely trustworthy, but what would he gain by hurting our Merrin?”
“Nothing,” Isla replies. “And I would trust his sister, Lidwinia, with my life. She loved Riven then, believed in him, and hell, probably even killed her own father to ensure her brother ascended to the throne as quickly as possible. This whole situation is fishy. There’s bad magic here. I feel it in my gut.”
“Then we need to consult the mages this evening,” says Mom. “They probably felt the magical interference or have intelligence from the wild fae.”
Their voices drift over me as the memory of the Merit king’s fingers, smooth as glass on my cheek, chills my blood. The look in his eyes, wild, intense. And definitely unhinged.
The Merits have long been obsessed with humans, and I’m a half-blood. Perhaps he did plan to abduct me.
“Kian was right about one thing,” I say as I draw the attention of all in the room. I swallow hard. “The Merit king was definitely hiding a blade behind his back. At the time, it didn’t feel like he was going to hurt me, but now I wonder… For what other reason did he have his sword unsheathed?”
“Maybe he wished to take a lock of your hair as a memento of your meeting,” suggests Isla, an uncertain smile on her lips.
Father laughs, a dark sound. “Then I shall make a memento of his shining silver head. And perhaps Kian’s scarlet one, too.”
“Don’t punish Kian too harshly,” I say. “Yes, there’s no doubt he’s an obnoxious mischief-maker, but he did come to my rescue. If he’s correct about the Merit king, then who knows what might have happened to me if he hadn’t intervened?”
“Merri’s right, Ever,” says my mother. “As misguided as Kian’s scheme was, he didn’t plan to hurt her. But we can’t be so sure of what the Merit intended.” She turns to Raff. “Riven must have created the glade. His magic would be strong enough to form the rift and hold it for a period of time. And if that’s true, such an act could be seen as an invasion of our territory. After Raff and Isla’s imprisonment, our Council declared that if any Merit entered our land without invitation, it would be considered a declaration of war. Riven knows this, and yet he broke the agreement.”
Raff says, “Then there must be a price to pay. A severe one to deter similar incidents.”
“What? No, that’s a bad idea!” I wring my hands in appeal to the king and queen. “Riven and his sister helped you escape from the Merit kingdom. They saved you from Temnen. They were your friends, weren’t they? You can’t go and declare war on them. Any reprimand should be mild. Riven didn’t hurt me.”
Isla links her arm through Raff’s. “I agree with Merri. We wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for Riven and Lidwinia’s help. I put my trust in Riven back then, and I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt now. Personally, I don’t think he planned to hurt her.”
Raff picks up a hnefatafl piece from a low table and turns it between his fingers. “I’m not so sure. Remember, Isla, there are many in Riven’s court who think him insane or at the very least unbalanced.”
“You’re speaking of the past, my love,” says Isla. “Lidwinia writes to me about how their courtiers are learning to live without the cruelties El Fannon encouraged. She refers to her brother with only love and respect. I trust them.”
Father’s eyes darken to chips of pyrite. “And yet the Merit drew his sword against a princess of our land. He may have planned to kill her. Or perhaps he did not. Either way, I want to raise an army against their city. Riven must learn that we’re not to be trifled with, then he won’t dare to come near my family again.”
Mom looks appalled. “Ever, I wasn’t suggesting you start a war. I was thinking more along the lines of a stern letter or a meeting to renew the terms of our agreement, and certainly not of you slicing his head off with your sword!”
While they argue, I get up and drift over to the window and stare toward the mountains in the approximate direction of where the glade appeared. Why was I so certain it was Kian’s arrival that caused the Merit to draw his blade? Now I’m doubting my memory, my instincts. My heart. Because of Kian.
“Merri?” Mom’s voice breaks through my turbulent thoughts.
“What?” I turn, rubbing my arms and yawning. “I’m sorry. I lost focus.”
She comes over and folds me in a warm embrace. “Go and rest. You look exhausted. Have dinner in your rooms if you wish, and we’ll update you with anything we learn from the mages in the morning.”
Flashes of color—silver, bronze-gold, deep reds, and shimmering blues—whirl through my mind. The mages four, the fifth still imprisoned in the Emerald Forest, her power tethered to the moss elves. “Is Father going to start a war?”
Mom laughs. “No, darling. Don’t worry. We’ll make him see sense.”
“Thank you. See you tomorrow.” I blow kisses at my family and race for the door, longing for my soft bed. “Let’s get some sleep,” I tell Cara, and she answers with a gentle snore from my shoulders, already a step ahead of me.
I make it as far as the hallway when the queen’s voice halts my escape, calling my name. With quick steps, we walk toward each other.
She clasps my hands tightly. “Merri, at this time, there’s so much I wish I could say to you.” A strange, wistful smile flashes over her face. “Unfortunately, I have no choice but to keep this simple. Please remember that things aren’t always what they seem. You must strive to keep an open heart. Holding on to hate only grows more of it in a never-ending cycle. Understanding and forgiveness are always the correct choices. Hold strong to these ideas no matter what. Promise me?”
Isla’s heart is pure. What she asks can only be good and right. I can see no problem in giving her my word. “Of course,” I tell her. “I promise to try to always think and act with an open heart and mind.”
With those words, her gold-painted lips stretch into a luminous smile. “Good. Thank you.” She strokes my cheek. “One more thing, Merri. Stay away from Kian, won’t you?”
“No problem there. I learned long ago to keep my distance from him. He’s a major pain in the butt.”
She laughs at my use of Earth slang and glides back toward my parents’ rooms.
In my chambers, I peel off my dirty cloak and leathers and fall into bed, tugging Clara into my arms. The moment I close my eyes, a vision overtakes me, engulfing me in darkness.
First, I hear the sound of water lapping, then my body is swayed by a gentle rocking motion. Wooden splinters dig into my feet, my bare legs curled under me. My eyes flare open and, other than the white of my robe glowing in soft folds over my lap, I see only black.
Horror pounds through my veins as cool water sprays my face. I’m in a boat! My hands are in a strange position, crossed over my chest, and I’m gripping what feels like two sword hilts. I test that theory, slashing them through the air in front of me. Yes. I’m holding heavy blades. I place one over my knees, retaining the other in case I need it, and tug a silken blindfold away from my eyes.
A starless night sky surrounds my tiny boat as it bobs on a jet-black ocean. Above my shoulder hangs a golden crescent moon. I look left then right, trying to locate the deadly rocks I know will be lurking out there in the inky sea. I can feel them.
As soon as I pick up an oar, another blindfold wraps tightly around my face. I tear it off and another appears. Then another. And another. With a frustrated scream, I place the second sword over my knees, bow my head, chest laboring with gasped breaths while I think.
This is a dream. This is a dream. Just a dream.
But I can’t sit here and do nothing, can I? I should paddle, but in which direction?
I don’t know. I don’t know.
I grip the swords again, crossing them over my chest as I lift my chin and straighten my back.
I’ll wait here in the darkness, thinking, before I do anything rash.
I’ll wait here in my dream.
I’ll just wait.
The water’s song goes lap, lap, lap.
My body dances to the rhythm of the moon.
Sway. Sway. Sway.
A voice calls in the distance, low and rough.
“Merrin? Come here to me. Quickly, come now.”
It is the Silver King.
The Silver King is calling me.
Presenting a problem.
A dilemma.
Do I answer?
