I reach into a shadow and watch as my shaking hand disappears.
Is this some strange reaction to being in Faerie? Does my skill for blending in the normal world become an actual ability to disappear in this one?
Voices float toward me from a room down the hall, and I step into the shadows, willing myself to disappear as I listen.
“They’re expecting the prince tonight,” a deep voice says.
“Yes, sir, I understand,” another male replies, this voice squeaky. “But Prince Ronan is still away. As you know, he isn’t keen to return home and is less keen to choose a bride.”
“Then find him,” the first says. “If you make me deliver bad news to our queen, I’ll be greatly displeased.”
The palace is overflowing with women ready to offer their lives to the Seelie prince, and he couldn’t be bothered to show? How typical of a faerie. Egotistical nonsense.
The males step out of the room and head toward me. They’re tall, graceful, noble fae dressed in yellow-and-gray uniforms—from the queen’s guard, perhaps?
I stay in the shadows, praying I’m invisible to them as well and not just to myself. They walk past me, and I hold my breath as one brushes my stomach with his elbow.
When they turn around a corner, I allow myself to breathe again. Carefully, I peek inside the room they emerged from. It’s an office that has two desks, stacks of books, and maps on the walls, but what interests me most is the window and the fading sunlight.
I need to find that wardrobe. I’ve already lost too much time.
* * *
I found it. Deep in the lower levels of the palace, in a far back corner of a storage room, I found an oversize armoire with wings painted on the doors.
The queen’s castle is vast and filled with fae and far more light than is convenient for a girl whose skills revolve around shadows and darkness. There are very few corridors or rooms that don’t have someone nearby, but I roamed through every space I could, searching. I could’ve saved myself hours if I’d thought to start in the storage rooms, but considering the size of the palace, it’s a miracle I found it at all.
It’s dark and cool down here, and I’m so tired I want to curl into a corner and sleep for a week. I’ve been awake nearly twenty-four hours, and my muscles ache from the hours I was sucked into the faerie dances. But I can’t stop now. I need to get to the Unseelie Court. My sister’s name rings again and again through my mind, reminding me of what’s at stake and giving me the energy I need to keep going.
As I throw open the doors to the wardrobe, I realize that I don’t know what I’m looking for. It is—at least in appearance—an ordinary piece of furniture, a place to store clothing. Although I didn’t expect flashing lights spelling out Magic portal! Step this way at midnight to find your sister! I thought there’d be some sign as to how I could use the thing.
Of course there’s nothing remotely obvious. Bakken described the wings for me, but perhaps there’s more than one wardrobe matching that description. What if the queen finally did destroy the portal, and this is nothing more than an ordinary wardrobe?
I open all the drawers and run my hands along the walls and back. No passageway, no hidden compartments or false back. Maybe this is like the portal at the river, and you have to enter and believe.
But enter where? How?
There’s a low, husky laugh behind me that makes me spin around.
I don’t see anyone at first, but then an orb of fae light appears, floating in the air toward me, and a tall, dark-haired male emerges from the shadows. I recognize his silver eyes immediately.
I reach for the dagger I don’t have on my hip. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get into the castle if I had weapons, and against my better judgment, I’d come into this dangerous realm completely unarmed. If I were wise, I would’ve made my first stop at the queen’s armory and then begun my search for the portal. No—if I were wise, I’d have made Bakken tell me how to go directly to the Unseelie Court. If I don’t figure out this portal quickly, I’ll have to hide in this castle a full day before it opens again.
I’m running out of time.
“Did you follow me?” I demand.
“A fascinating human comes to Prince Ronan’s ball and somehow sneaks around the palace undetected—of course I’m following you.”
Not completely undetected, apparently. Not if he followed me here.
“I’m wholly intrigued,” he says, but he doesn’t sound intrigued. He sounds irritated.