The Faceless Woman Emma Hamm (ebook reader screen TXT) 📖

She felt all the blood drain from her face. “Consort?”

“Every king must have his queen,” the duke replied. He leaned forward and knocked down her queen with a single move. “When the queen falls, so does the king. Checkmate.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened, and she couldn’t see straight. It wasn’t possible. She couldn’t possibly have been chosen to be the consort of the Raven King. She’d never even seen him…

But that was a lie. She’d seen him her entire life, from childhood stories, to saving her friends, to the ravens above her hut, even guiding her here. The Raven King was the hero of every story she told.

And now, she knew she was meant to be his bride.

Aisling choked on a gasp. “It cannot be.”

“Why? Because you are in love with the Unseelie Prince?” The duchess laughed. “Stories don’t always end up the way we want them to, do they?”

“I won’t be a consort to anyone I haven’t met.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. After all, you removed the curse keeping you hidden from him. All he has to do is find you now, and I’m certain he wants you by his side. He’s infinitely more powerful with you in his kingdom.”

“Kingdom?” Aisling stared at them. “What kingdom?”

“Underhill! Goodness girl, do you not know any of the legends? He rules the Wild Hunt when it’s not released upon the earth. The creatures who steal human souls.” The duchess leaned forward dramatically. “The Sluagh.”

Aisling swore a wind had risen at the word, sliding across her arms and raising goosebumps in its wake. Though she knew they wouldn’t steal her soul, she had lived her entire life in fear of them. Evoking their name was as good as screaming into the shadows for them to come and take her.

“I am no one’s consort,” she whispered. “I make my own path.”

“Not with those marks you don’t.” The duchess clapped her hands, grinning. “Oh, this is so much fun! I had no idea we had two royals in our midst. Now it’s going to be so much easier. Don’t you think, darling?”

“Easier?” Aisling gulped and flicked her gaze between the two. “What do you mean easier?”

“I’m sorry for this, my dear. I really am. You have been a pleasure, and if you were anyone else, I’d like to keep you as a pet.”

Aisling wasn’t going to stay and listen to whatever else the Duchess had to say. She stood quickly, upended the table into their laps, and whirled into a run. Thank the gods she’d had the intelligence to change into pants or she wouldn’t have been able to race back toward the palace.

She needed to collect Bran and Lorcan. Then they all needed to flee this dastardly place. There wasn’t enough hidden magic in the world to convince her to stay here.

A clawed hand caught the fabric of her shirt and shoved her forward. With a shout, Aisling fell onto her knees. She kicked out with her leg, catching a rib that cracked loudly.

The duchess dug her nails into Aisling’s sides. Each dig made her flinch, long furrows opening in her skin as the faerie forced her to turn onto her back.

For such a small woman, the duchess was surprisingly strong. She held Aisling underneath her with ease, hardly panting with the difficulty of suppressing her movements. A wild grin spread across the faerie’s face. “My sweet, you are always entertaining.”

Aisling spat in her face. “Go to hell.”

She managed to wiggle an arm free and desperately clawed the duchess’s heart, which was so close.

The faerie leaned back a fraction, just out of her reach. “No, I know why you want that my dear, but you aren’t going to have it. Killing the Raven King’s consort will likely anger him, but that is part of the fun. I’m much more interested in killing the Unseelie Prince, and when I explain why you had to die, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

“I don’t hate him.” Claws raked down her sides. “I want to be him.”

Anger heated Aisling’s blood. She snarled and twisted harder, trying her best to reach the heart inside the duchess’s chest. “He is infinitely more powerful than you.”

“Oh, sweet little girl. Do you think I have to go through you to get to him?” The duchess shook her head and tsked. “No. All I have to do is poison you. And you did say you preferred poison as a surprise, didn’t you?”

When the nails dug deeper into her side, Aisling realized she couldn’t quite feel the pain in the same way. Instead, all she felt was a growing cold sensation spreading through her sides and sinking deep into her bones from the sticky coating on the duchess’s nails.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

As her body fell into a quiet stillness, the duchess leaned forward and pressed her lips against Aisling’s ear. “Tell me, little witch. What flavor now coats your tongue?”

Lips thick, her teeth wanted to chatter but muscles refused to move. Aisling managed to furiously bite out, “Bitter.”

“That’s right. The bitterness of nightshade is so distinct. Those of us who are poisonous creatures wrapped in silk and satin know the taste well. But those who are little more than drab spiders would use something more painful, like belladonna. Sweet, innocent, little witch. You’re going to die slowly, and I will enjoy watching every second.”

The duchess slowly lifted herself from Aisling’s body, and she couldn’t do anything to stop her. Her arms were heavy, laden with the weight of the world. Her legs stilled, toes losing all feeling. Every sense dulled until the power inside her gave one last gasping flare.

The glamour fell away from the secret garden hidden in the heart of the Palace of Twilight. The gazebo disappeared. Twisted metal became gnarled branches, blackened silver turning to dusky bark.

Aisling stared up into the rattling branches of the hanging tree and realized she hadn’t traveled that far after all. Witches always died under