Malice

swiping a last pastry from the basket.
“My gift compels me to tell you you’re treading on thin ice.” Laurel doesn’t even look up as she speaks. “You’re a sheep among wolves, Alyce.”
“Am I?” I start in on my egg, hand trembling slightly from the rush of so thoroughly enraging Rose. For a heartbeat, my nails appear as claws as I pick off a bit of shell. “Or am I the wolf, and they’re the sheep?”
Laurel’s golden eyes meet mine, sharp against the dark black of her face. “I imagine we’ll find out soon enough.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Over a month passes without incident. Without any additional invitations to the palace. Not that I care. Aurora sends me several notes, but I feed them to the hearth in my Lair. I’ve no wish to trifle with the queen. Aurora is a princess, and I’m a…someone princesses definitely do not associate with. She’ll forget me in time—just as Pearl predicted. Better sooner than later.
When free from my duties as the Dark Grace, I spend my time at the black tower, practicing with Kal. Things are progressing far slower than I’d like, which makes the day I’ll be able to leave Briar seem nothing but a blur on the horizon. But my abilities, Kal continues to remind me, are improving. And that blur will eventually solidify. And then I’ll never have to bother with self-serving nobles or enhancements again.
I console myself about my extended sentence in Briar by reading the book Kal gave me. The roots of my hair prickled when I first dared to open it. I was certain that Endlewild somehow knew what I had and that he was going to swoop in at any moment and cart me off to the palace dungeons. Or worse. But as the pages and hours of the night flew by, I forgot those fears and became lost in my own history.
The author, Grimelde, dedicates the book to his mistress and lady of the court, Targen. It seems that, like the Etherian courts, those of Malterre were governed by a single, powerful leader and a small inner council. In his book, Grimelde describes pieces of the early history of the Vila and how they contributed to the founding of his own court and the rise of its current leader. But the stories I read here are nothing like the nightmares I encountered in Briar’s books. No stolen children or human slaves.
According to Grimelde, the Vila were iron-willed creatures who could rival any of the light Fae in intellect or skill. Targen’s court even attempted diplomacy with the Etherians. She sent envoys to treat with the High King of the Fae in an effort to establish relations between the courts of Malterre and Etheria. Of course, the High King Oryn rejected their advances, disgusted by the Vila race. But Grimelde states that many of the light Fae did not share Oryn’s sentiment. They craved the stronger power of the Vila and chose to change their blood from gold to green. Humans even visited Targen’s court, both before and after Briar was established, in the hopes of gaining access to the dark magic of the Vila. The groups of mortals formalized, calling themselves the Nightseekers, and they were welcomed among my ancestors. Though they could not be transformed into full Vila, they were taught simple rituals and spells even a human’s small spark of magic could manage.
And there were other creatures who called Targen’s court home. The Goblins, who were driven out of the caves of the Etherian Mountains by the light Fae and forced to flee. The Imps, who were captured and used as slaves in the Fae courts. And then there are the Shifters. I can’t drink in those words fast enough. Shifters were essential to the courts of Malterre. With their changeable bodies, they were perfect for serving as the Vila’s spies in Etheria and even in the realms across the Carthegean Sea—which is what Kal must have done. It was a high honor to employ a Shifter in a court. In most places in the world, Shifters were tortured and executed if caught. But in Malterre, they were celebrated, valued, something I know little about. In fact, in Targen’s court, every race was allowed to select a representative to sit on the small council. Every voice was heard.
I trace the words of Grimelde’s dedication: To Mistress Targen, whose dark power fuels the hearts of so many.
Kal claims I shouldn’t trust the information I read in Briar’s books. But should I trust this one? I wonder if he’d given it to my mother as well. If she’d touched these pages and tried to answer the same questions that tumble through my mind. I’d give anything to be able to ask her.
But I can’t. And if Kal is to be believed, it’s because someone in Briar killed her. They would likely kill me, too. Endlewild would if he knew I possessed this book.
As the weeks pass, I read and reread the volume until the ice of my fear and doubt begins to thaw, replaced with a growing curiosity about the other half of my magic. The Shifter in me. The key to escaping Briar.
There’s only one person who can tell me how to use it.
—
“Teach me to Shift,” I tell Kal as soon as he surfaces from the shadows. It’s early evening, and I’d muttered an excuse to Delphine about fetching enhancements as soon as my last patron left. I settle Callow on the remains of a rotting table.
“Happily. Though, if I may ask…” Kal studies me, his shadows curving into question marks. “What brought this sudden desire? The last I remember, you were unsure of your Shifter heritage.”
“You were right. I’ve lived the lies Briar fed me from the day I drew breath. But I’m tired of being treated like a caged pet, let out only to entertain those who despise me.”
That’s how they treated me at the dinner. Pearl