“But Sebastian—”
“Ronan’s power is tenuous at best, in either court,” Misha says. “He can’t risk losing the precious followers he has by sending soldiers to this mountain to claim a girl.”
“And Finn?”
He shrugs. “Finn doesn’t know you’re here.”
“And how do I know you aren’t in alliance with him in exchange for access to me?”
“And why does he need access to you? What do you have to offer?”
I flinch. Too true. Of course. Why would they risk anything for me? I no longer have what they want. “Perhaps you’ll sell me to the golden queen? Or maybe you’re looking for information. I doubt you’re doing this because you make a habit of helping random humans.”
He looks me over again. There’s no interest in his perusal, only curiosity. “I don’t help random humans, but you, Abriella, are neither random nor human.”
“You know what I—”
He holds up a hand. “As for my reasons for helping you, you are correct in assuming my motivations aren’t selfless. I’m responsible for my kingdom and all that reside here, and whether I like it or not, the actions of the other courts affect my people. And whether you like it or not, you’re caught up in the middle of all of it.”
“So I’m a pawn?” Again.
His eyes heat, and he steps forward. “You don’t get to play the poor little abused mortal girl with me,” he says. “Oberon gave you his crown and his power, and in doing so, he tied your fate to the fate of his kingdom. You weren’t given a choice. But neither was I when I was born to rule these lands.
Neither was Prince Ronan or Prince Finnian. You are not the only one who’s been dealt a difficult hand, and feeling sorry for yourself won’t change the fact that your actions will have an impact on my family, my people, and this entire realm.”
Gaping at the beautiful, sharp-tongued fae king, I grapple for a smart reply, but my brain is too fuzzy. “I don’t have the crown anymore. I’m just a human who’s been made fae. I’m no one.”
He looks me over slowly, and I feel as if he can see past all the dirt, past my skin, and inside my very soul. “You’re filthy and exhausted. You’ve never fully recovered from the potion, and you’ve expended an extraordinary amount of power in the last day. Even the sacred fire gem around your neck can’t save you from burning out if you keep this up.”
My hand goes to the emerald teardrop hanging between my breasts. “The sacred what?”
“Fire gem,” he says, eyeing the stone in my hand. “Don’t you know you’re wearing a talisman? An incredibly rare, highly valued one at that?”
I look closer and realize it’s not a stone at all—not like one I’ve ever seen, at least. “Why is it called a fire gem if it’s green?”
“They come in all colors, but I imagine it’s named after the way it looks when you hold it up to the light—like there are flames inside.”
“What do they do?” I ask. And why would Sebastian give one to me?
“Probably to ensure you were strong enough to survive the transition. Not all humans who’ve taken the potion have lived to speak of it.”
I swallow hard as a flurry of emotions twist my gut. Is this a sign of Sebastian’s love for me or further damning evidence of just how premeditated his choices were? He knew I’d die when I bonded with him, and he kept the truth from me. He stole my human life so he could take the Unseelie throne.
“You’re thinking too much,” Misha says. “I’ll explain everything soon, but you need rest.” He pokes his head out the door and calls softly down the hall for someone.
A white-haired female wanders in. Bowing her head, she skirts me and steps into what appears to be a bathing room.
“Holly will draw you a bath and get you some clean clothes,” Misha says. “If your mind won’t allow you to rest, there’s a sleeping tonic by the bed.”
As if I’d take anything—
“It’s not poisoned, Princess. It’s an herbal mixture prepared by my healer for a more peaceful sleep, but whether you use it or not is entirely up to you.”
I take a deep breath. He’s right. I need a bath and some sleep. I’m exhausted and heartbroken and — I scream and jerk back as pain slams into my body. I press my hand to my gut, fully expecting to see blood seeping between my fingers; then pain seizes my limbs so forcefully that I fall to the ground. “What . . .”