Malice

on me, not even Laurel, which makes me strangely sad. She probably feels it’s best to leave me be. And she’s right.
Exhaustion pulls my eyelids down, but I don’t let myself sleep. Not yet. Instead, I remove the tiny key hidden in the false bottom of my dressing table drawer and open a trunk of relics from my childhood. Old dresses I’ve outgrown and books Laurel lent me and didn’t want returned. The embossed title of one volume stares up at me in the weak light of my candle. This one did not come from Laurel. And it was not a well-meaning gift. Endlewild brought it. I remember the way those Fae eyes glinted as he tossed it at my feet.
Dark Creatures of Malterre.
I trace the letters, wings flapping in my belly.
“Forget not what you are” was all he said.
Not who—what. He’d wanted me to read the sections about Vila. Horrible stories about human sacrifices and kidnapped children and blood rituals. Tales that would frighten me. Make me understand what would happen to me if I ever used my power against Briar. But Vila are not the only creatures described in this book.
The spine creaks and the smell of dust and old paper greets me. My trembling fingers find chapters on Nyxes and Imps and Goblins, all creatures who once lived in Malterre but were driven to extinction at the end of the war.
Here, toward the end of the book. The Shifters. My eyes move so quickly I can barely take in the words.
Like the Fae, it is believed that Shifters live long—perhaps even immortal—lives. It is difficult to discern the exact lifespan due to the changeable natures of the creatures. Though there have been no reported sightings of Shifters in their native form, it is believed that they have no exterior body hair. They may also possess multiple sets of breathing apparatuses, including gills as well as humanesque noses, so that they may Shift easily from land animals to water. Skin may also be covered in scales. And blood, when extracted, is a thick, sticky black. Similar in viscosity and color to the ink of a Carthegean Squid.
That isn’t me, I tell myself firmly. I don’t look like that. I have green, Vila blood. Not black. But my gaze darts involuntarily to the backs of my hands. I may not have scales, but my skin is always dry and flaking. And while I have hair, it’s pitifully thin and lank. A good yank away from falling out completely.
But if I am a Shifter as Kal says—I could change into anyone I wanted to be. I could leave Briar behind forever.
The thought is so sweet it dissolves like spun sugar on my tongue.
The Grace Laws, my mind screams. The dogs. The ones trained to sniff out Grace blood and keep them from being smuggled out of the realm.
But I am not a Grace.
—
Once dawn breaks, I’m up. The others won’t bother to rise until at least midday and Delphine can burn my schedule for all I care. Not even the kitchen staff is awake. I stuff a sack full of pastries, nick a loaf of bread and some cheese, settle Callow on my shoulder, and leave the house before anyone’s the wiser.
Brine and sea salt scrape the inside of my nose once I pass through the main gates and turn toward the black tower. Fat clouds are rolling in from the horizon, promising a downpour. It’s a gray, miserable morning, the mist so thick I could cut it with a knife. The perfect post-ball day for the nobles to laze about in their beds, nursing their wine-soaked heads with vials of Etherium and forgetting about the Dark Grace.
I will not forget.
I will not be humiliated like I was last night. Never again.
A sour taste lands on my tongue as I try, and fail, to tamp down the images from the ballroom. Arnley’s disgusted stupor. Rose’s twisted delight. I cling to another instead, as if it’s a piece of driftwood floating in a raging sea: Aurora’s moonlit face as she studied the fountain I’d muddied. Even now, the sound of her laughter skips across the waves.
Will she have a line of suitors waiting for her this morning? Another longer one tomorrow if her true love isn’t found? My blood chills at the thought of such a curse. She must have kissed most of the men in the realm by now, entirely against her will. I shake my head to clear it. The princess was an unexpected relief when I’d needed it most. But she is a royal and not my concern. If I see her again it will be at her wedding. Or her funeral.
The encroaching storm front makes the black tower even colder and gloomier than my last visit, the sea pounding against the cliff as if it has something to prove. I enter cautiously, slipping in a few places where the worn stone is covered in moldy slime. Callow squawks her complaints.
“Kal?” His name is buried under the sound of the sea and the distant rumble of thunder. The hair on my arms begins to rise.
“You came back.”
There’s a ripple to my left. Kal appears, his hair mussed and eyes bleary, as if my arrival woke him. As the darkness unspools from his frame, Callow screeches and flaps unevenly to the ground. I soothe her with a few scraps of meat.
“I did not think you would.” The shadows waft in smoky tendrils up and down his arms. Wind around his neck and burrow into his clothes.
“You said you could teach me about my power.” I keep a healthy distance between us.
“I can.” He watches Callow, who has grown bored of us and is hunting between the cracks in the stone for more snacks. “You have a kestrel?”
I’m in no mood for distractions. “What do you want for your information?” I thrust the sack in his direction. “I brought food.”
He shakes his head. “I cannot eat. The enchantment