According to Grimelde, the Vila were iron-willed creatures who could rival any of the light Fae in intellect or skill. Targen’s court even attempted diplomacy with the Etherians. She sent envoys to treat with the High King of the Fae in an effort to establish relations between the courts of Malterre and Etheria. Of course, the High King Oryn rejected their advances, disgusted by the Vila race. But Grimelde states that many of the light Fae did not share Oryn’s sentiment. They craved the stronger power of the Vila and chose to change their blood from gold to green. Humans even visited Targen’s court, both before and after Briar was established, in the hopes of gaining access to the dark magic of the Vila. The groups of mortals formalized, calling themselves the Nightseekers, and they were welcomed among my ancestors. Though they could not be transformed into full Vila, they were taught simple rituals and spells even a human’s small spark of magic could manage.
And there were other creatures who called Targen’s court home. The Goblins, who were driven out of the caves of the Etherian Mountains by the light Fae and forced to flee. The Imps, who were captured and used as slaves in the Fae courts. And then there are the Shifters. I can’t drink in those words fast enough. Shifters were essential to the courts of Malterre. With their changeable bodies, they were perfect for serving as the Vila’s spies in Etheria and even in the realms across the Carthegean Sea—which is what Kal must have done. It was a high honor to employ a Shifter in a court. In most places in the world, Shifters were tortured and executed if caught. But in Malterre, they were celebrated, valued, something I know little about. In fact, in Targen’s court, every race was allowed to select a representative to sit on the small council. Every voice was heard.
I trace the words of Grimelde’s dedication: To Mistress Targen, whose dark power fuels the hearts of so many.
Kal claims I shouldn’t trust the information I read in Briar’s books. But should I trust this one? I wonder if he’d given it to my mother as well. If she’d touched these pages and tried to answer the same questions that tumble through my mind. I’d give anything to be able to ask her.
But I can’t. And if Kal is to be believed, it’s because someone in Briar killed her. They would likely kill me, too. Endlewild would if he knew I possessed this book.
As the weeks pass, I read and reread the volume until the ice of my fear and doubt begins to thaw, replaced with a growing curiosity about the other half of my magic. The Shifter in me. The key to escaping Briar.
There’s only one person who can tell me how to use it.
* * *
—
“Teach me to Shift,” I tell Kal as soon as he surfaces from the shadows. It’s early evening, and I’d muttered an excuse to Delphine about fetching enhancements as soon as my last patron left. I settle Callow on the remains of a rotting table.
“Happily. Though, if I may ask…” Kal studies me, his shadows curving into question marks. “What brought this sudden desire? The last I remember, you were unsure of your Shifter heritage.”
“You were right. I’ve lived the lies Briar fed me from the day I drew breath. But I’m tired of being treated like a caged pet, let out only to entertain those who despise me.”
That’s how they treated me at the dinner. Pearl and the others—looking at me like I was an animal allowed indoors. Aurora is the only one who ever—
But no. The queen made it clear that I won’t be seeing her again. There’s no point remaining in Briar now.
“Did something happen?” Kal asks carefully.
“Nothing that hasn’t happened a thousand times before.” But it’s so much more than that. Aurora was—no. It’s no use dwelling on what might have been. “I thought I had a friend,” I admit. “I don’t.”
Kal crouches, extending a tentative hand to Callow. She nips it in her I will tolerate you fashion. “One of the Graces?”
I shake my head. Those amethyst eyes surface, filled with laughter and mischief. The dawn-colored silk of her hair set against that flawless skin. “The Princess Aurora.”
“The—” A stray piece of glass cracks as Kal abruptly straightens. I never told him about my summons to the palace. Or about the abandoned library. Callow flaps her wings in disapproval. My fists clench at my sides, expecting him to begin berating me. Reminding me of the royals and their history with our kind. He doesn’t. “The crown princess.”
Gulls cry in the distance, as if even they think it’s a ridiculous idea.