Page 42 of The Blood Queen

“I would,” I say.

His dark eyes cut to me, and I am reminded of just how strong he is.

Before he can threaten me—because I know he has the means to—I say, “I have more friends than you know. More than you will be able to stop. Your portals will fall, even if you try to block me.”

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t know I’m outright lying. What friends do I have? Just Samson. But still, the lie works.

“And I’ll start with Stennes,” I add. A personal point of pride for Keryth, the strongest portal outside the Caiy Stone.

“Killing the portals will kill you, girl,” Keryth says.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see dancers start to take the floor again, glittering lights swirling, but I realize now that I no longer hear the music. Keryth has pulled me into shadows and cast a spell around us, a glamour strong enough to hide us from all prying eyes.

“Did your dear father not let you know that bit?” Keryth continues. “Every portal that dies weakens the fae realm, yes, but ticks away a little more of your life, barrier guardian. Killing portals kills you, girl.”

Years at Queen Mary’s court keeps my face placid, my lips curved into a genteel smile. I let out a little laugh. “With the High Blade, we all die anyway,” I say. “The only difference is do you die fighting, or do you let me weaken your power enough that you have to bend the knee to the traitor who killed your queen before she hacks your head off?”

His eyes widen at my threat.

I tip up on my toes, leaning into his face. “I told you,” I snarl. “Humans are savage and feral. And we, at least, are not cowards.”

I’m trembling inside. I know I’ve gone too far.

I see the rage in Keryth’s aura. The blind fury.

But sparkling throughout it is bright-yellow fear.

So I don’t back down.

And the fear inside him washes away the anger.

The fear he has of me.

And so, when I stride away from the prince, leaving him in the center of the dance floor, alone amid a swirl of fae revelers, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I won.

11 Samson

I don’t breathe until Alyth’s walking off the dance floor.

Two other fae princes have been circling me. One’s leaning real close, studying my hair with eyes so cerulean bright they hurt to look at. They all hurt to look at, honestly, attractive in ways that feel razor sharp and off, the same slightly disconnected feeling as everything else in the fae realm. Like they’re pretty, but that prettiness comes ahead of teeth and venom.

“You want something of us,” the fae prince croons, head cocking unnaturally. “I’ll make a trade.”

“What kind of trade?” I track Alyth as she weaves through the fae still dancing. A few stop her, ask her things; she talks to them with her shoulders back and chin high, a confidence gleaming out of her I didn’t ever see at Mary’s court. She always hid herself there, made sure no one noticed her.

She’s getting noticed now. Demanding that attention, and behind her is that arse Keryth, standing where she left him, looking half stunned, half sick.

The fae prince leaning too close to me hums, turns it into a chuckle. “Come stay at my palace,” he tells me, and it sounds like a plea but feels like a command, something snapping in my chest, making me want to obey.

Is he using magic on me?

I rip my focus from Alyth to glare at the prince.

“You’re fascinating,” he continues, still gazing at my hair. “What are you?”

“He’s human,” says the other fae prince, who’s been sneering in disgust at me when he’s not talking shit to Drest about other guests’ outfits.

“Leth,” I correct. To the first prince, “And I’m Alyth’s, so I’m not going anywhere with you.”