The Black Queen (Book 6) Read Online Free PDF Page A

throne, is this a Warning? I am of Black Blood. I am, as you say, the legitimate heir. This should not be a problem.”
    She tilted her head slightly. “Blood against blood,” she whispered.
    He felt another shiver run through him despite the warmth of the room. Members of his family from the Fey side could not fight against each other. The Fey phrase, “Blood against blood,” referred to that. Gift had been taught the meaning like this:
    Black Blood could not fight against Black Blood. It led to chaos and death. The last time Black Blood warred on itself, centuries ago, three thousand people died. It was said to be a raging madness that made fathers turn upon sons, sons upon mothers, mothers upon daughters. And it happened throughout the Fey Empire. Only one in ten survived. The Fey Empire was small in those days. Now it covered over half the world.
    “I would never kill my sister,” he said. “Even if I didn’t care for her, I know what happens when people of Black Blood kill each other. I understand my responsibility to the Fey.”
    “I have Seen it,” she whispered. “There is a madness loose.”
    “Loose? Or will it be turned loose by something we don’t know?”
    She took his hands. Her fingers were like ice. “Touch the Black Throne,” she said. “For me.”
    “Why? So that you can become Shaman to a Black King?” His words were harsh, his voice as cruel as he could make it. He hadn’t expected this here. He had experienced it in the palace on Blue Isle, and it had been the reason he had not seen his Uncle Bridge in Nye. But he hadn’t expected it among the Shaman. He hadn’t believed, until this moment, that Shaman could have ambitions.
    “I do not want to be Shaman to a Black King.” Her entire body was rigid. She almost cringed before him. There was something else then, something he didn’t entirely understand.
    “It’s a test,” he said. “You want to see if I am lying to you, if I really want the Black Throne.”
    Her nod was almost imperceptible. If he hadn’t known her so well, he wouldn’t have seen it.
    “Why isn’t my word good enough?” he asked.
    “The fate of the world rests on your shoulders,” she whispered.
    “The fate of half the world,” he said. “My decision only influences the Fey Empire.”
    “Whoever sits on the Black Throne determines how big that Empire will be,” she said.
    He hadn’t been this angry in years. She had no right to test him like this, no right to doubt his word.
    And then he heard his own thoughts, how entitled they sounded, how much like his great-grandfather. She had a right. She needed to know if she was bringing him into the fold as Shaman or as a future Black King. The Shaman did not want the next Black King here.
    He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “If I do as you ask, then you must promise me one thing.”
    She raised her head. Her eyes reflected the red in the room. The light gave her face an eerie cast. “What?”
    “If I prove that I do not want the Black Throne, promise you’ll train me as a Shaman. You’ll give me the full training, including the parts you’ve been denying me because you’re afraid of what I might do with the learning.”
    She looked away from him. That movement was confirmation that she had been denying him, that even she was afraid of him.
    He stood at his full height, hands clasped behind him, feet slightly apart in military style. The stance of a ruler. He knew it. He did it deliberately. He wasn’t making this agreement with her as an apprentice. He was making it as an heir to the Black Throne.
    “All right,” she said without looking at him. Her voice was soft. “I agree to your terms.”
    “Good.” He started toward the throne and then stopped. He had to know one more thing before he touched it, before he did as she asked. “If I touch this Throne,” he said, “does that obligate me to rule the Fey?”
    “No,” she said. “If anyone could touch the Black Throne and become