CROSS SUIT (#2 COURT OF SUITS series)

♠ FOURTEEN ♠

Arden descended from their skeletal horse of death in one swift motion. "Oh, yes." They landed on their feet with grace. A pinch of pure hatred tinged their voice. "Yes, yes, yes."

With one snap of their leather-gloved fingers, all six of my guards tumbled from their startled horses, their necks twisted at impossible angles.

I gasped. "What the—"

"—sorry, but they weren't supposed to make it in here. Only you were." Arden rubbed their hands together, and though I couldn't see their face I somehow knew they were smirking; a snide, sneaky smile that made my stomach churn. "Only you were to make it this far."

"O-only me?"

My arm twitched and my elbow banged into the hilt of my weapon, reminding me I was armed. But would that matter? Arden had lost their mind and killed six people with a snap of their fingers. They'd barely breathed and a curtain of vines now separated me from the remainder of my forces. They had me alone, isolated, powerless. What could I do against them with a sword?

"What is the meaning of this?"

"It shocks me you haven't figured it out yet. With my odd behaviors, and all." Again with their evil tone; one I would have expected from Otho or Luned, but not from the Ace of neutrality, the gender-less being without feelings.

"Arden is always odd," I muttered, a lump forming in my throat, knots tying in my stomach. "What are you getting at?"

Arden snorted. "Yes, well, odd or not; how did you not detect something off about me? Like, for example, how fast I caught on to my abilities? How I gained your confidence though you despise mages? Whose team did you think I served, Majesty?"

Their tone became mocking, murky. They brushed their horse's mane, and even the animal seemed to sneer at me, its black eyes like never-ending wells of darkness.

"I'm the mage of Spade Island, remember? That's what Arden represents. Which means I respond to its queen, not you. I work for Queen Luned."

Before I could reply—with a scoff or a scream, I wasn't sure—someone jumped out from behind one of the clumps of sturdy trees lining the clearance. How they'd made it through the tiny slit I had no clue, but I stilled at the sight of them.

Of her. Heaps of silvery hair shimmering in the moonlight. Lacy ebony sleeves wrapped around her arms. A tight bodice of raven leather ending with frilly black skirts that fanned out over her feet and a crown of peach and purple seashells atop her head. The Painted Lady, as Teodric had so accurately called her. The nickname had never been so fitting.

"Why hello there, sister dearest." Her eyes were so icy they seemed to send shards piercing straight into my heart. "Thank you for heeding my warning, my message in a bottle. And then for coming here, to make this so easy for us."

"Easy?" Had Arden tracked her? Her malevolent intent, her destructive energy? It made no sense. "Us?"

I shivered, and again remembered I had a sword. The idea of plunging it into my half-sister's chest was the only thing keeping me standing, conscious. Despite my years of training I'd never faced true enemies before, only wooden soldiers and fearful page boys.

A surge of crushing energy entered the clearing, followed by a pop. A puff of sparkly red smoke appeared, and underneath it was the familiar and fearless form of him. His untamed golden hair, his eyes no longer blue, but more like gruesome, glittering garnets, his lips spread in a snake-like smirk.

Otho adjusted the collar of his mauve and apple-red velvet coat. "Yes, us, my sweet, sweet queen. Who else?" His voice, curt and cruel as always, sent pangs of pain to my temples.