Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(91)

Oona swung a cloak over Sorcha’s shoulders, smoothing the fabric until it settled just right. Worry furrowed her leaf-like brow.

“You’re making me worried,” Sorcha said with a soft smile. She touched Oona’s brow gently. “I won’t do anything rash. And, as you remember, I’m a knowledgeable midwife.”

“Don’t say a thing about living on Hy-brasil,” Oona advised. “He won’t like that information very much. All we can do is hope his informants don’t tell him how they found you.”

“Why shouldn’t I tell him about Hy-brasil?”

Oona guided her towards the carved portal and lifted her hands into the air. Delicate, twig fingers swung in the air as she called magic to life. “No matter what you do, do not mention the master.”

“Why can’t I mention Stone? Or Hy-brasil?” Sorcha backed towards the portal and stared Oona down. “I need to know before I make a mistake!”

The cold touch of the portal slid up her ankle and calf before Oona bowed her head. “You’ll figure it out when you get there, dearie. Just keep us all, and yourself, safe.”

The pixie reached forward and shoved Sorcha’s shoulder. She tumbled onto a cold marble floor, worry spinning her head.

She would know when she got there? What in the world did that mean?

“Ah,” the cold voice made her freeze. “You must be the midwife.”

It was so inhuman that she had no difficulty pinpointing to whom the voice belonged. The king himself waited on the other end of the portal, and Oona hadn’t even mentioned that. Sorcha still had flour dusting her skirts!

She placed her hands firmly on the floor, following the lines of gold in the polished stone all the way to the most extravagant throne she had ever seen. It was so tall it touched the ceilings, feathers and fairy wings turning it into a testament of Fae. Red billowing curtains stretched from the top all the way to the ground like theater curtains.

A man reclined in its center. This was all far too much show for a midwife, but the silver cape he wore trailed three men’s length onto the floor. His white blonde hair reached his waist, just touching the embroidered waistcoat he wore. Not a single stitch was out of place.

Guards stood at attention all around, their golden armor gleamed in the sunlight pouring from the open ceiling, nearly blinding her. They clutched swords the same height as Sorcha in their hands.

“Your highness,” she said and bowed her head again. “I am the midwife.”

“Good. I have use for your skills. Come with me, human.” His voice was as cold as the bitter blizzards in the dead of winter.

She shivered and rose to her feet. “It is always a pleasure to provide services to those who require them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I need a new concubine.” His feet entered her line of vision. Perfectly manicured shell pale toes framed by his golden sandals. “Who can say no to a king?”

He lifted a hand, and her gaze locked upon his fingertips. Stained black as night, his nails were pointed. She had seen the cause before in a previous patient. By the time she arrived, the woman had already been comatose.

Opium addiction was a dangerous beast to tame.

The stained fingers slid underneath her chin and tilted her face to the light. She was hesitant to look him in the eye—kings could be quite strange—but Sorcha had never been cowed before.

She looked up and her world ended.

Stone stared back at her. Or not Stone, but what he might have been if crystals hadn’t cracked through his skull.

Perfect cheekbones, flawless skin, full lips that she had seen quirk to the side so many times she knew each line and fold. His eyes frightened her most. Vivid blue, like the sky after a violent lightning storm and so familiar her heart hurt. Now, she saw cruelty reflected in those eyes. She missed the flawed fissures and frown lines surrounding them.

“You’ll do,” he said as if she wasn’t about to faint. “Come with me.”

Her feet stuck to the floor. He turned away from her with a flourish of his cape, and still she didn’t move.

The king? How did he look exactly like Stone?

The Seelie King glanced over his shoulder and arched a perfect brow. “Are you so foolish that you do not understand an order when you hear one?”

Her Stone. Her kind, disfigured Stone was not reflected in this strange apparition before her. She suddenly understood why Stone reacted so violently when she mentioned family.

This man hadn’t just stolen Stone’s birthright. He’d taken a kingdom, a throne, mother, father, brother.

Even his face.

Oona’s voice echoed in her mind. Do not let the king know where she came from. Do not mention the master. No wonder the pixie had been terrified.

Tears pricked her eyes. She had so misjudged Stone as a cruel man who saw no other solution than revenge for those who wronged him. This wasn’t just a family squabble. His twin had ripped away his life and inserted himself into what was rightfully Stone’s.

She wanted to smack the perfect face of the king. She wanted to drag her nails across his cheek so he too might feel the pain and anguish he had caused.

But she couldn’t. Sorcha needed to keep a cool mind to get through his alive. Under no circumstances would she risk Stone’s life.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” She dipped into a curtsey, hiding her angry tears and red flush. “Please, lead me to the lady I might assist.”