from the Court entirely. “No, brother. I do not think that I will. I think that ifI did not have another reason to cross you, I would do it for spite.”Oak looks up at me, searching for confirmation that he’s doing okay inthe face of all this shouting. I nod with an encouraging smile.“Show Oak,” I whisper to Cardan. “Show him what he’s supposed to do.Kneel down.”“They’re going to think—” he starts, but I interrupt him.“Just do it.”Cardan kneels, and a hush goes through the crowd. Swords are returnedto sheaths. Movements slow.“Oh, this is amusing,” says Lord Roiben in a low voice. “Who might thatchild be? Or whose?” He and Queen Annet share a very Unseelie smile.“See?” Cardan says to Oak, and then makes an impatient gesture. “Nowthe crown.”I look around at the lords and ladies of Faerie. Not one of their faces isfriendly. All of them appear wary, waiting. Balekin’s expression is wildwith fury, and he pulls against the bolt, as though he might rip his hand inhalf before he allowed this to happen. Oak takes a hesitant step towardCardan, then another.“Phase four,” Cardan whispers to me, still believing we’re on the sameside.I think of Madoc, dozing away upstairs, all his dreams of murder. I thinkof Oriana and Oak being forced apart for years. I think of Cardan and howhe will hate me. I think of what it means to make myself the villain of thepiece. “For the next full minute, I command you not to move,” I whisperback.Cardan goes utterly still.“Go ahead,” Vivi says to Oak. “Just like we practiced.”And with that, Oak puts the crown down on Cardan’s head, to rest on hisbrow. “I crown you.” Oak’s little-kid voice is uncertain. “King. High Kingof Faerie.” His eyes go to Vivi, to Oriana. He’s waiting for one of them totell him he did well, that he is done.People gasp. Balekin gives a howl of fury. There is laughter and outrageand delight. Everyone likes a surprise, and the Folk like one more thanalmost anything else.
Cardan looks at me with helpless rage. Then, the full minute of mycommand up, he rises slowly to his feet. The fury in his eyes is familiar, theglitter of them like banked fire, like coals burning hotter than flames evercould. This time I deserve it. I promised he was going to be able to walkaway from the Court and all its manipulations. I promised he would be freefrom all this. I lied.It’s not that I don’t want Oak to be the High King. I do. He will be. Butthere’s only one way to make sure the throne remains ready for him whilehe learns everything he needs to know—and that’s if someone else occupiesit. Seven years and Cardan can step down, abdicate in Oak’s favor and dowhatever he wants. But until then, he’s going to have to keep my brother’sthrone warm.Lord Roiben sinks to one knee, as he promised. “My king,” he says. Iwonder what that promise will cost. I wonder what he will ask us for, nowthat he has helped give Cardan a crown.And then the cry goes up around the room, from Queen Annet to QueenOrlagh and Lord Severin. From the other side, Taryn stares at me, clearlyshocked. To her, I must seem mad, to put someone I despise on the throne,but there is no way for me to explain myself. I sink to my knees along witheveryone else, and so does she.All my promises have come due.For a long moment, Cardan just looks around the room, but he has littlechoice, and he must know it. “Rise,” he says, and we do.I step back, fading into the throng.Cardan has been a prince of Faerie all his life. No matter what he wants,he knows what’s expected of him. He knows how to charm a crowd, how toentertain. He orders the broken glass cleared away. He has new gobletsbrought out, new wine poured. The toast he gives—to surprises and to thebenefits of being too drunk to show up for the first coronation—causes allthe lords and ladies to laugh. And if I notice that his hand grips hiswineglass tightly enough to turn his knuckles white, then I imagine I am theonly one who does.Yet I am surprised when he turns to me, eyes blazing. It feels as thoughthe room is empty but for us. He lifts his glass anew, mouth curving in amockery of a smile. “And to Jude, who gave me a gift tonight. One that Iplan to repay in kind.”
I try not to visibly flinch as glasses lift around me. Crystal rings. Morewine flows. More laughter sounds.The Bomb elbows me in the side. “We came up with your code name,”she mouths. I hadn’t even seen her come in past the locked doors.“What?” I feel as tired as I have ever felt, and yet, for seven years, I willnot be able to truly rest.I expect her to say The Liar. She gives me a tricksy grin, full of secrets.“What else? The Queen.”It turns out I still don’t know how to laugh.
I stand in the middle of Target, pushing the cart while Oak and Vivi pickout bedsheets and lunch boxes, skinny jeans and sandals. Oak looks aroundin mild confusion and pleasure. He keeps picking up things, puzzling overthem, and then setting them down again. In the candy aisle, he adds bars ofchocolate to the cart, along with jelly beans, lollipops, and chunks ofcandied ginger. Vivi doesn’t stop him, so I don’t, either.It’s odd to see Oak with his horns glamoured away, his ears looking asround as mine. It’s odd to see him in the toy aisle, trying out a scooter withan owl-shaped backpack over one arm.I expected that it would be hard to persuade Oriana to let him go withVivi, but after Cardan’s coronation, she agreed that Oak being away fromthe Court for a few years was for the best. Balekin is imprisoned in a tower.Madoc woke in a rage, only to find that his moment for seizing the crownwas past.“So he’s really your brother, right?” Heather asks Vivi as Oak kicks offon the scooter, flying through the greeting card aisle. “You could tell me ifhe was your son.”Vivi laughs delightedly. “I’ve got secrets, but that’s not one of them.”
Heather wasn’t thrilled about Vivienne showing up with a child and ahalf-baked explanation about why he had to live with her, but she didn’tkick them out. Heather’s sofa pulled out into a bed, and they agreed hecould sleep there until Vivi found a job and they were able to afford a largerapartment.I know Vivi isn’t going to get conventional work, but she will be fine.She will be better than fine. In another world, given our parents and ourpast, I would have kept on encouraging Vivi to trust Heather with the truth.But for now, if she feels like she has to keep the deception going, I amhardly in a position to contradict her.As we stand in the checkout line and Vivi pays for her haul with leavesglamoured to seem like bills, I think again of the aftermath of the banquetturned-coronation. Of the blur of the Folk eating and joking. Of everyonemarveling over Oak, who appeared both pleased and panicked. Of Oriana,clearly not sure whether to congratulate me or to slap me. Of Taryn, quiet,considering, holding tightly to Locke’s hand. Of Nicasia giving Cardan alingering kiss on his royal cheek.I have done the thing, and now I must live with what I have done.I have lied and I have betrayed and I have triumphed. If only there wassomeone to congratulate me.Heather sighs and smiles dreamily at Vivi as we load our purchases intothe trunk of Heather’s Prius. Back at the apartment, Heather takes somepremade pizza dough out of her fridge and explains how to make personalpies.“Mom will visit me, won’t she?” Oak asks as he places pieces ofchocolate and marshmallows on top of his dough.I squeeze his arm as Heather sticks the food in the oven. “Of course shewill. Think of being here with Vivi as an apprenticeship. You learn whatyou need to know, and then you come home.”“How will I know when I’ve learned it, since I don’t know it now?” heasks.The question sounds like a riddle. “Come back when returning feels likea hard choice instead of an easy one,” I answer finally. Vivi looks over, asthough she’s overheard. Her expression is thoughtful.I eat a slice of Oak’s pizza and lick the chocolate off my fingers. It’ssweet enough to make me wince, but I don’t mind. I just want to sit with
them a few more moments before I have to fly back to Faerie alone.When I dismount from my ragwort steed, I head to the palace. I have roomsthere now—a vast sitting area, a bedroom behind latching double doors, anda dressing area with empty closets. All I have to hang in them is what I tookout of Madoc’s estates and a few things I got at Target.Here is where I will live, to keep Cardan close, to use my power over himto ensure things go smoothly. The Court of Shadows will grow beneath thecastle, fed on being both the High King’s spies and his keepers.They’ll have their gold, straight from the king’s hand.What I have not done, not really, is spoken with Cardan. I left him withonly a few commands, the familiar hatred in his face enough to make acoward out of me. But I am going to have to talk to him eventually. There isno profit in my putting it off any longer.Still, it is with a heavy heart and leaden steps that I make my way to theroyal rooms. I knock, only to be told by a prim-seeming manservant withflowers braided in his blond beard that the High King has gone to the greathall.I find him there, lounging on the throne of Faerie, looking out from thedais. The room is empty except for us. My footfalls echo as I move acrossthe floor.Cardan is dressed in breeches, a waistcoat, and another coat over that,fitted in his shoulders, tapered in sharply at the waist and falling to hismidthigh. The cloth is uncut velvet in a deep burgundy, with ivory velvet atthe lapels, shoulders, and waistcoat. Stitching in golden thread covers thewhole, matched by golden buttons and golden buckles on his tall boots. Athis throat is a ruff of pale owl feathers.His black hair falls in opulent curls around his cheeks. The shadowsbring out the sharpness of his bones, the length of his lashes, the mercilessbeauty of his face.I am horrified by how much he looks like the King of Faerie.I am horrified by my own impulse to bend my knee to him, my owndesire to let him touch my head with a ringed hand.
What have I done? For so long, there was no one I trusted less. And nowI must contend with him, must match my will to his. His oath does not seemenough of an antidote against his cleverness.What in the world have I done?I keep walking, though. I keep my expression as cold as I know how.He’s the one who smiles, but his smile is colder than any stiff face could be.“A year and a day,” he calls out. “Blink and that will be over. And what willyou do then?”I draw closer to him. “I hope I can persuade you to remain king until Oakis ready to return.”“Maybe I will acquire a taste for ruling,” he says coolly. “Maybe I won’tever want to give it up.”“I don’t think so,” I say, although I’ve always known that was onepossibility. I’ve always known that removing him from the throne might beharder than putting him there.I have a bargain with him for a year and a day. I have a year and a day tocome to a bargain for longer than that. And not for one minute more.His grin widens, shows teeth. “I don’t think I will be a good king. I neverwanted to be one, certainly not a good one. You made me your puppet. Verywell, Jude, daughter of Madoc, I will be your puppet. You rule. You contendwith Balekin, with Roiben, with Orlagh of the Undersea. You be myseneschal, do the work, and I will drink wine and make my subjects laugh. Imay be the useless shield you put in front of your brother, but don’t expectme to start being useful.”I expected something else, a direct threat, perhaps. Somehow, this isworse.He rises from the throne. “Come, have a seat.” His voice is replete withdanger, lush with menace. The flowering branches have sprouted thorns sothickly that petals are barely visible.“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. “What you sacrificedeverything for. Go on. It’s all yours.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTSThank you to my writer friends who saw me through the scheming andimagining and writing and editing of this book. Thank you, Sarah ReesBrennan, Leigh Bardugo, Kelly Link, Cassandra Clare, Maureen Johnson,Robin Wasserman, Steve Berman, Gwenda Bond, Christopher Rowe, AlayaDawn Johnson, Paolo Bacigalupi, Ellen Kushner, Delia Sherman, GavinGrant, Joshua Lewis, Carrie Ryan, and Kathleen Jennings (who drewbeautiful pictures during a workshop, thereby producing my favoritecritique ever).Thanks, too, to everyone at ICFA who gave me feedback after I read thefirst three chapters out loud.Thank you to everyone at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, whohave supported my weird vision. Thanks especially to my amazing editor,Alvina Ling, Kheryn Callender, Lisa Moraleda, and Victoria Stapleton.And thank you to Barry Goldblatt and Joanna Volpe for shepherding thebook through its various trials and tribulations.Thanks most of all to my husband, Theo, for talking through so much ofthis book with me over many years, and to our son, Sebastian, fordistracting me from the writing and giving me a fuller heart.
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First published in Great Britain in 2018 byHOT KEY BOOKS80–81 Wimpole St, London W1G 9REwww.hotkeybooks.comText copyright © Holly Black, 2018Illustrations copyright © Kathleen Jennings, 2018All rights reserved.No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in anyform by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise,without the prior written permission of the publisher.The right of Holly Black and Kathleen Jennings to be identified as authorand illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance withthe Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either theproducts of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblanceto actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.ISBN: 978-1-4714-0646-1Hot Key Books is an imprint of Bonnier Zaffre Ltd,a Bonnier Publishing companywww.bonnierpublishing.com