The Stolen Heir by Holly Black

We slowed at certain points when we spotted another one of the Folk. This far from the camp of the Court of Teeth, the soldiers we were avoiding belonged to Elfhame. That did little to reassure me, though. No harm would come to Oak at their hands, but they might well lock me up in their dungeons or take me to their Tower of Forgetting.

At the palace, we passed our first set of guards. They bowed to Oak, and if they were surprised to see him with another child trailing a piece of dirty rope, they kept it to themselves. The palace of Elfhame was a grassy hill, set with windows. Inside, there were stone walls, occasionally covered in plaster or packed earth. Nothing like the cold, carved ice chambers of the Citadel. We climbed one flight of stairs, and then another, when a knight stepped out in front of us.

She was dressed all in green, with armor cleverly shaped into leaves. Celery-colored hair was pulled back from an angular, insect-like face.

“Prince,” said the knight. “Your lady mother seeks you. She wanted to be sure you were safe.”

Oak nodded stiffly. “You may tell her I’ve returned.”

“And where ought I say you were . . . ?” The knight eyed me and then the stolen sword. I feared I saw a flash of recognition in her eyes.

“Tell her that I’m well,” the prince said, seeming to deliberately misunderstand her.

“But by what name ought I call—” the knight began, attempting to interrogate him and be deferential to his position all at once.

Oak seemed to have come to the end of his patience.

“Call us whatever you like!” he interrupted her to say. Then he grabbed my hand again, and we hurried up the stairs and into his room, where we slammed the door. We collapsed against it.

He was grinning, and looking at him, I had the strangest urge to laugh.

The room was large and painted a bright white. A round window let in light from the lamps outside. I heard strains of music, probably from the banquet, which was sure to start soon. A bed sat along one wall, topped with a velvet coverlet. A painting hung above it, of deer eating apples in a forest.

“This is your room?” I asked. Nothing about it spoke of him, except for a few paperback books on a small table and playing cards scattered beside an armchair.

He nodded but seemed a bit cautious about it. “I’ve only just gotten back to the isles. I was staying in the mortal world with one of my sisters. Like I told you last night.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d said. I had thought he’d visited the place, not that he’d lived there and definitely not so recently.

I looked out the window. He had a view over the woods and to the sea beyond, the dark water rippling in the moonlight. “Are you going back?” I asked.

“I guess.” He knelt and opened a dresser drawer to reveal a few games and some toy bricks. “We couldn’t bring much with us.”

I supposed he wouldn’t be sure of anything, what with the unlikelihood of his sister keeping her crown, with so many forces conspiring against her.

“You have Uno,” I said, picking up the card game and staring at it as though it was the relic of some fallen city.

He grinned, delighted at my recognizing it. “And Nine Men’s Morris, Sorry!, and Monopoly, but that takes forever.”

“I’ve played some of those.” I felt shy now that we were in the palace, his territory. I wondered how long he would let me stay.

“You pick one,” he said. “I am going to see what I can swipe from the kitchens. The cooks ought to have plenty to spare, considering how much food they made for tonight.”

After he left, I reverently took the Sorry! game out of its box, sliding my fingers over the plastic pieces. I thought about playing with my unfamily one night when Rebecca sent me to Start three times in a row and teased me about it, back before I learned how much there really was to lose. I’d cried, and my unfather had told Rebecca that it was as important to be a good winner as a good loser.

I wanted Oak to give me an opportunity to be a good winner.

When he returned, it was with a whole pie and a pitcher of cream. He’d forgotten spoons and plates and cups, so we had to scoop handfuls of blueberry filling and crust into our mouths and drink from the jug. We stained our fingers and then the edges of the game cards.

So lost in the joy of that moment, I didn’t think of danger until the latch of the door turned. I was barely able to roll underneath Oak’s bed, putting my sticky, stained fingers over my mouth, before Oriana came into the room.

I tried to remain as still as possible. Madoc’s wife had camped with us when we were in the north and would know me instantly if she saw me.

For a moment, I even considered throwing myself on her mercy. I might have made a useful hostage. If Oriana turned me over to the High Queen, she might not be cruel. Certainly, I had heard no rumors of her being awful in that way.

But if there were to be a truce, then I would be handed back to Lord Jarel and Lady Nore. The High Queen would want to give them all the easy things they asked for so that she’d have half a chance at denying them the hard ones.

Moreover, I wasn’t entirely sure whose side Oriana was on.

“Where were you?” she asked Oak, voice sharp. “Is this what Vivi and that Heather girl let you get up to in the mortal world? Running off without telling anyone?”

“Go away,” Oak said.

“The guards said you had someone with you. And there’s a rumor that monster child from the Court of Teeth is missing.”