The sky was still dark when Maren crawled out of bed and ran to the North Wing.
Her bare feet slapped against marble as she bound up the steps and to the left, passing the Neverin Suites. Before the Court of Dusk's door was Namjoon. The advisor knocked and waited, tearing his gaze away to acknowledge Maren.
"Good morning."
"Is he back?" Maren skittered to a stop. For good measure, she knocked on her own though it didn't make much noise.
"No. He would have answered by now," Namjoon said. When the advisor flattened his lips into a straight line, his dimples stood out. "I wonder where he could be."
"He can't be too far if he said he would return today."
Namjoon nodded. "You could be right. He also might not arrive until evening."
"Until evening?" Maren shrieked.
"He never specified." Namjoon lowered his tone. "Were you expecting him earlier?"
To put it simply, she'd hoped that by the time she opened her eyes he would be back in his chambers cooking up a concoction or handling a spellbook or whatever faekind used to manipulate the boundaries of fate. Preferably a weapon. Her dagger was still lodged in the mirror and there was no way in hell she was going to return to see if it was still available for use.
The magnitude of the morning had yet to truly land its mark, and she knew because she still searched for options. She still had hope--which could all be disintegrated if Faine took the liberty of showing her face seconds after the sun grew comfortable. But she clung onto it, and she held fast to the thought of Jimin following through. He may not be a High Prince but he knew what it took to be one. He understood how important this was.
Even so, Namjoon's question felt loaded. To say that she expected the Dauphin meant that she likely waited to embrace him. After declaring her choice for Jin, that would not be a good look to the advisor. To say that she wasn't expecting him, unless done correctly, implied that she hid some sort of truth.
The blood bargain was a truth.
"I don't know when he'll come," she said finally.
Namjoon sighed. "It needs to be soon."
"Is Jin in danger?"
"I would rather not say." The advisor kindly sidestepped her.
Maren watched him go. "But you should say it. I want to know."
Joon stopped. "Knowing him, he will make it to see another day."
She let the advisor go, glancing at her hand. He wouldn't make it. Maren made that impossible. If she had any chance to change that then she had to tell the advisor. She had to warn him.
"Namjoon, wait."
Joon halted once more.
She glanced at her feet, tears pricking her eyes. Everything she'd come to care for seemed to crumble in her hands. Her dreams of innocence in the eyes of the advisor and the Prince were picked up and tossed by the breeze.
Of all things, Jin's words were the first that she thought of.
You would rather beg for death than take accountability for your actions.
In a moment such a this, she knew that it was true. That hope to do good, to be good, suddenly faded away; eclipsed by the fear of ruining all the wonderful things in her corner. She would rather die with her heart full than let it stop while she drowned in the misery of past consequences as selfish as it was.
"Maren?"
"Nothing," she said. "I just worry about him, that's all."
Namjoon nodded. "We all do. You should get back to your room. Today's challenge begins soon."
"It does?"
"It is the most important one," he admitted.
Maren closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation of someone braiding her hair one last time. Emberlynn made quick work of it, gently placing the finished plait over her shoulder. Her attendant was surprisingly quiet and somber, more intent with the silence. So was Maren. The sounds and smells and sights of her bedroom soaked into her skin. She wanted to remember this moment forever.
Today's dress was plain and white. No embellishments, jewels, or intricate embroidery. The long sleeves and boat neckline made her feel like a swan, or like her beloved firebird she encountered yesterday. Tulle made up the thin skirts.
Maren put on her white slippers and took another glance through the view of her balcony. There was no promise she'd ever touch those trees again, but at least she felt rooted to where she was.
"Thank you, Emberlynn."
The attendant nodded her acceptance. "You are always welcome."
"Will you stay close today?"
Emberlynn frowned.
Maren smiled halfheartedly. "I feel better when you're there."
"I will do my best," Emberlynn said. "Are you ready?"
"Do I get any clues?"
The attendant chuckled, her humor never quite lighting up as it normally did. "You have a lot of spirit. Let it guide you."
Maren nodded. "Now I'm ready."
Emberlynn escorted her from her quarters into the hall. Maybe Maren imagined it, but she did not feel the depth of the warmth that normally filtered through the halls. The apple smell was faint and distant. While everything glittered and remained standing, it seemed hollow. Missing the fires in the hearths that kept it alive. She shook the feeling off as she and her attendant ascended the steps to the North Wing.
The doors to the throne room were wide open. It was almost like she remembered it. The pillars and red sashes created a ceremonial boundary. The statues of colossal Adara blazed brilliantly, looming over the two grand thrones in the very back of the spacious room. In the center was a pedestal with three circlets and what looked like three oak leaves evenly dispersed in their rings. At last, a pile of lustrous coals behind that.
Namjoon stared straight ahead with the discipline of a soldier. At his side was his commander. Maren's heart almost leapt out of her chest when Kim Seokjin locked gazes with her. The firelight in his eyes was dim, but there was something about the strength of an ember in him; a persistence to burn on no matter what. His ensemble was almost as simple as Maren's, only a single golden sash slung across his white coat and his necklace--which possessed an inkling of ruby still.
She did not look anywhere else even if he had to look away. She held her line of focus as she curtsied, and in the moments after. Emberlynn stood behind her like a silent backbone.
Lyra and her attendant eventually stationed to her left. Genevieve and another attendant strolled in and stood next to her. Three crowns, three aspirants. Adelia was no longer among them.
The doors to the throne room closed behind them, and then there was only silence. Seokjin nodded to his advisor. Namjoon came to life.
"Lady Genevieve. Lady Lyra. Lady Maren. Welcome to your second task. The seven children have ordained you worthy to stand before the Adaran throne in consideration of noble ascension. Your action today will determine if you are worthy of the third request."
Namjoon said, "What Adara asks is simple. We request your mortality."
Maren swallowed, none of it quite processing.
"To walk the Fae path, one must shed their ties to the mortal world and embrace the call of Neverin. Mortal bloodlines must end with your name."
Lyra blinked in concern. "Are you asking us to..."
The advisor remained expressionless. "A mortal may never be Queen in Neverin."
Maren's fingers dug into her skirt for balance when it clicked. A human could not be crowned. But if she were immortal, if she were fae...
"His Highness can only choose one of us," Genevieve said. "If all three of us do as you ask, then two will be left in this world."
"Yes," said the advisor.
"But if only one does it?"
"Then she cares for His Highness enough to prove her loyalty."
Maren faced Namjoon. "What, specifically, do we have to do?"
The advisor's eyes flicked to the pedestal. "There is a crown for each of you that will formally mark you as a candidate. In the very middle of each one you will find a leaf from the ashen tree, the tree that establishes the roots of our kingdom and buries us into history. Place the circlet atop your head, grasp the ashen tree's leaf, and enter the transformation."
Seokjin made the first move to stand off to the side. Namjoon rested opposite of him as Seokjin snapped his fingers.
The pile of glittering coal ignited, a white bonfire surging into the domed ceiling. Maren and Lyra stumbled back. Genevieve covered her face. Unbridled warmth swirled through the throne room, beads of sweat forming at Maren's brow. While it was a beautiful flame, it seemed like it held back from searing everything within the room.
Maren was the only one to notice Seokjin subdue his cough by pressing his fist to his mouth.
"Walk through fire?" Lyra asked.
"It is the only way to be part of this Court," Namjoon answered.
Maren could see nothing through the flame. Her first thoughts went to Jimin and where he could possibly be. The next image was of Penelope and Nathaniel, even Juniper. Her old friend promised to come for her if she were selected by the Prince. There would be no point in her efforts if Maren committed to this.
Many, many times had she felt like a human in the dwarfing palace. Throughout her life she had been small and weak with brittle bones and thin flesh. Humans, though so intricate, followed the orders of one another. They created rules to cage themselves and systems off the backs of others. They had neither the courage to dismount the messes they made nor the heart to put one man before another.
Immortals, on the other hand, breathed in superiority. Their elegance stemmed from the wisdom lurking in eyes that witnessed centuries of ruin and triumph. Their grace was representative of their fearlessness. For they had nothing to lose, and therefore every reason to present their true selves at every occasion.
But what would Maren do in an immortal shell if she could barely face herself as she was? How could she live with her own wrongs until the end of time? By choice, at that?
The part of her that believed in nothing, not even herself told her that she would rather dance at the evil enchantress's side in punishment rather than live in regret at the cost of her worthless human soul.
By curse or enchantment, her decisions stripped her of mortality from the moment she arrived. Faine would never let her remain human.
But even as that demon reared its head, a smaller voice whispered to her heart with another choice.
She might as well take her final chance.
However, Genevieve stepped forward. "I'll go," she said. Lyra was too shocked to speak. Maren released a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
The redheaded girl fixed those seafoam green eyes onto Seokjin. "Ever since I was a girl, I believed in the magic and truth of your people. Though there are others in my sect, they would encourage me to do the same if they could see me now."
The Prince nodded his respect.
Maren watched her inch towards the crown closest to where she stood. Genevieve's slender fingers placed the circlet atop her head and took the ashen tree leaf. White fire reflected in her black pupils as she took slow step by slow step into the flames.
They engulfed her body, swallowing her frame as though she'd done nothing more than step into an impenetrable fog. Maren could only hear her racing heart as she searched for a sign that Genevieve lived. The girl's attendant rushed to the other end of the flames and vanished. In seconds, the view of her ash robes returned with hands clawing into her arms, a head buried in her chest. Genevieve's knees buckled as she nearly crawled away.
Her head poked up, her green eyes frighteningly bright. Both of her ears were pointed at the tips. She seemed longer. Like her limbs had finally grown into their rightful size. Even the plains of her face had smoothed and sharpened. She was stunning, and wild, and lithe.
"Finally," breathed Genevieve. "Finally!"
Genevieve laughed, shoving the attendant away from her and falling awkwardly to her knees. "I'm a faerie!"
Emberlynn grabbed Maren's arm warily. Seokjin and Namjoon exchanged looks.
The newly turned girl tilted her head up and screamed. "My precious Queen! I am yours at last! Come and rescue me!"
Queen?
The ground trembled. One by one the splendid windows of the throne room burst. Glass rained over Maren and Emberlynn. Namjoon ran to cover Seokjin.
"My service is yours!" Genevieve cried. "I've done all that you asked."
Thick, black clouds spread and stretched through the blue sky like poison; fingers of dark matter clawing at the calm blue surface until there was none left. When it covered the sun, the wind blew so cold and fierce that a white cloud of air left Maren's lips. The drop in temperature sent her body in shock. A thousand knives coated in frost seized her lungs and muscles.
Lyra wailed at the cold, her attendant grasping her for warmth.
Emberlynn glanced up first and Maren followed her lead. A halo of obsidian matter, of fine dust and ash and embers expanded to coat the perimeter of the room. It dripped throughout the throne room turning the splendor to ruin. As it passed the red sashes, the ribbons tore apart and lost their color. The pillars were cracked and full of holes. The two grand thrones were suddenly broken and covered in debris. The white flame dwindled from a fire so proud to a mere flicker. It wavered in the permafrost until it died away completely.
Maren watched as Jin's hair turned black, as his eyes lost their beautiful color. He was staring past her, at the doors behind her. So was Namjoon. Maren peered over her shoulder to what they were looking at.
"Well met, Seokjin," said a silky, grand, familiar voice.
Dauphin Park Jimin of the Court of Dusk strolled into the throne room, glorious in a black doublet and violet cape. His black hair billowed in the harsh breeze, but his eyes; so imminent in their essence of dominance and laughter that Maren's blood ran cold.
"Your time is up."
(A/N)
Omg the interlude trailer. Yoongi was in his bag.
Let's finish this book, shall we? :)
Next release: 1/10, January 10th
With love,
Milan