ONly one week until Stealing Fae Hearts and Secrets releases!
And now… a sneak peek at chapter One
I’m the first to walk away from the prince. I should stay on the beach a little longer and eavesdrop on conversations between the remaining Consort Tourney contestants. But my insides squirm with lies and secrets threatening at the back of my throat.
After tonight’s invitational ten are left—including myself. Three from both the Summer and Winter Courts, two from Autumn, and one each of Spring and the Underwater Court. I should continue spying and learning, but I must get away.
The gems on my violet skirts jangle together as I walk through the corridors of the Isi Aura palace. After the loud crashing waves at the shore, the cacophony of the clanking beads pushes back the bitter silence.
There’s no reason for me to say goodbye to the four who are leaving—I don’t need to see Raine’s tantrum, nor do I dare risk a repeat of the labyrinth with Clove. I barely know Aqualis or Lily, and they’ll want to return to the water realm as soon as possible, anyway.
My thoughts and my heart drift back to the impressive creature—my cabyll ushtey—that Prince Rion gave me tonight. I can hardly believe the formidable water horse is mine. She might be the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received. Of course, the prince had to give me something since the king’s secretary, Gnacia—the fawn who is the mediator between the king and me—likely told him I must stay tonight. Even so, Rion remembered my love of these dangerous creatures. Now something inside me has shifted. Softened? No, that, I cannot afford.
Nor I cannot dwell on it.
Amberle, focus.
If I’m to free my father, I must assess the contestants. I identified a threat, but my warnings were dismissed. So, I must find Gnacia. Now.
Frost Niege cannot stay. She’s a potential danger to the other contestants and the royals. I’d reported her, but they allowed Rion to keep her. Why?
What is the point of bringing me on if my reports fall on deaf ears? Why bring me here at all? I can’t demand answers from the king, but Gnacia is not my sovereign and I demand to be heard.
But I’m making it easy to avoid me with my thundering, jewel-clanking dress is announcing my presence across this entire wing. I turn on my heel and head to my rooms to change out of this noisy gown.
As I whip around a corner, a firm hand grasps my wrist. The motion pivots my direction, sending me flying toward a tall flower arrangement. An arm stops me short, just before I careen into the vase.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Wyn asks but doesn’t release his hold. “What’s wrong?”
Recognizing my friend, not the mysterious murderer, my momentary panic turns to fury. “Trying to make me smash another priceless treasure of the crown? Clumsy as always, Wyn?”
“The vase is fine,” he says, lifting a shoulder and releasing his grip. “There’s something I wanted to speak to you about.”
“Not now. I need to—” I briefly close my eyes and shake my head. “Never mind.” I turn to go.
“You need to… what?” he asks, stepping in front of me to block my path.
“I just…” I grit my teeth. Resisting the urge to lash at him for holding me up. “I just need to speak with someone.”
Wyn hooks an eyebrow, then folds his arms and grins. “You need to speak with… Gnacia?”
I can’t stop the panic that crawls up my throat, but I can control the steadiness of my gaze and the coolness of my smile. “King Estelar’s assistant?” I hate that my voice comes out too high pitched. “Why would I need to speak with her?”
“Because the winter fae, Frost, wasn’t eliminated.”
“None of the winter fae were,” I move around him to continue down the hall.
“Amberle, stop.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Amberle, I know.” He leans heavy on the word. “You don’t have to deceive me or skirt the question.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the terror licking at my heart. He knows? How much does he know? Slowly, I turn back toward him.
Wyn casts a glance around—as if to ensure we aren’t being overheard—
then steps forward and mutters, “I know why you’re here. In the Tourney. The king told me why he ordered you to come.”
I press my lips together when he steps back to read my expression. I don’t assume he knows anything, but my stomach clenches; my childhood friend can destroy me with a few wrong words. I frantically feel for winter magic—the projection magic watching every moment of the competition—but between my flustered thoughts and trying to keep my face neutral, I can barely sense my toes, let alone magic.
When I don’t answer, he rolls his eyes and leans forward, cupping my ear with his hand. “He’s asked you to be his little spy.”
