“I asked Carex to leave so I could speak with you,” I tell them. “The ball will be in two weeks’ time. Two nights before the ball, I’ll walk you through the full plan for the escape. Prince Hawthorne, you’ll need to attend meetings with myself and the Council to plan the welcome ball.”

“I look forward to party planning with you, witchling. I’m told I have an affinity for throwing a raging celebration,” he says with a wink.

“Is that right? It doesn’t seem like planning would be part of your skill set.” Silene snorts and Fionn whistles. I honestly didn’t even know what words were coming out of my mouth before I spoke them. The Prince grins wide, clearly enjoying this back and forth between us.

“When it comes to having fun, I know a thing or two.” The innuendo he laces into the words has me breathing heavy.

“So I’ve heard, princeling. Just remember you have a job to do. It’s not a party, it’s a distraction.” With that, I aerstep from the room, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach.

Hawthorne

The reputation of the Witch Queen is nothing compared to the reality of her practices. She uses her blackened vines to trap you in a gory and oozing web of treachery. Once she has you pinned down and immobilized, she goes in for the killing blow. She’ll slice your throat, then divide your blood in half. One part she drinks to maintain eternal youth, the other she uses to cast spells that advance her infernal cause.

The Witch Queen and Her Treachery

When Laurel leaves the training room, Fionn instantly goes into sparring mode. Throwing me a sword, he advances before I can catch it. Silene finds a table and chairs in the corner, eyes showing she’s lost in thought. I barely notice her before Fionn slams the hilt of his sword into my gut, knocking the breath from my lungs. The whoosh of blades are the only sounds as we clash against one another in the underground recess, Fionn’s blows growing more aggressive the longer we train.

“What has you so on edge?” I ask. He only grunts and swings the blade again. I block his swipe, then drop my sword. “Seriously, Fionn, what’s up?”

“I don’t trust the Queen.” His shoulders and body are tense, eyes storming. “Something feels off—there’s too much secrecy. Why wouldn’t she want her advisors involved when they’re a part of every other aspect of ruling the kingdom? She’s hiding something.” He’s right about the secrecy—it’s strange. And it makes me wonder whether this is a trap intended to get us in a bad situation we can’t get out of.