CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

For the third and final time, I put on the black clothes someone had undoubtedly left as I slept. Laurie, probably. He didn’t make an appearance for any snarky comments or words of wisdom, and despite our confusing interaction after Olorel, I found I missed that. Even before Sorcha, making friends had been difficult for me; I’d let down my guard with Laurie, just a little.

Collith had stepped out to allow me privacy as I dressed. A few minutes later, I opened the door and our eyes met. The aloof, glittering king had taken place of the weary, barefooted male of last night. It felt like we were stuck in a loop, taking the same steps. Facing the same threats. Withholding the same truths. But this time, he didn’t say that I could change my mind or warn me of the consequences. Maybe he’d learned the futility of it … or maybe I’d passed the point of no return. I took Collith’s arm without waiting for him to offer it and forced myself to take deep, even breaths. He appraised me as we walked. I determinedly stayed focused, reviewing everything I’d learned from those books and going through Dad’s self-defense moves. The fae had thrown a whipping, an enchantment, a dragon, a wendigo, and murder my way. I couldn’t even imagine what was next.

“Fortuna—” Collith began suddenly, his voice jarring in the stillness.

I swallowed and kept my eyes on the passage ahead. “Don’t. Please. Whatever you’re going to say … I’m barely holding it together right now. I just can’t.”

Those hazel eyes darkened, more with worry than anger, I thought. But Collith didn’t argue; he just nodded, put his cold hand on top of mine, and continued our journey.

We arrived at the throne room all-too soon.

The space was the most crowded I’d ever seen it. Every table had been removed, but even that wasn’t enough. Faeries were crammed against the farthest walls, wearing expressions of discomfort and annoyance. Children sat atop the twisted chandeliers. Others rested upon bigger faeries’ shoulders, looking for all the world like innocent families attending a summer parade. Well, minus the pointed ears and strange clothing. And as per usual, they were all staring.

Nerves fluttered in my stomach. I saw the flash of jewels and heard the chink of coins—they were betting on this. How many of them had put money against my survival? I searched for Damon, hoping the sight of him would steady me. There he was, standing near the front, alongside Jassin. He didn’t have any new bruises, from what I could tell, but my brother somehow looked thinner every time I saw him.

I also recognized Tarragon and Chandrelle amongst the figures up front. Arcaena, too, stood amongst the onlookers. Her pale-skinned twin was beside her. An involuntary shiver whispered up my spine and I quickly refocused on the path in front of us.

That was when I noticed the individual tied to a wooden chair.

It had been put before the dais for all to see. The person’s head and neck were covered by a burlap sack. However much of a prisoner they seemed to be, though, there was no sign of struggle or attempt to speak. My mouth felt dry, my tongue thick. What was this?

Collith left me at the bottom of the stairs—the sudden absence of his hand felt strange—and went to the throne. I tried not to fidget or make some senseless comment that would bring about another tribunal. The Tongue waddled over and began his rituals and chanting. I was loathe to let his paper-dry skin touch mine and it took considerable effort not to yank free of his grasp.

Through it all, the captive in that chair still didn’t move. I kept glancing over, my heart pounding so hard, I knew the faeries could probably hear it. The hood was oversized and their clothing baggy, making it impossible to know whether a man or a woman sat there. Had the fae sent someone to Granby and brought one of my loved ones back? The possibilities haunted me. Bea. Gretchen. Cyrus.

Finished with his posturing, the Tongue fixed his gaze on me again. “The final trial will challenge your devotion to this court,” he rumbled. Slowly, the faerie reached into the folds of his robe. “With ruling comes sacrifice. There can be no limit to your loyalty.”

I was breathing as though I’d just run a mile. It was that word—sacrifice. In that instant, I knew they were going to make me pay for surviving the other trials. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing toward Collith, fruitlessly hoping he would save me— never mind that I’d made every choice bringing me to this point. He gazed back, wearing his usual inscrutable expression, but gentle sensations traveled down the bond. Not emotions, exactly. Not his voice, either. Yet somehow I understood that he believed in me. He thought I would win.

This knowledge might have been comforting, but then the Tongue’s hand reemerged holding my father’s knife.

I stared, dumbfounded, as he held it out. “What the hell am I expected to do with that?”

My question echoed throughout the immense room. The Tongue just stood there, waiting for me to take Dad’s knife from him. The entire court had fallen silent. After a few seconds, I did, just to keep this thing moving. Satisfied, the Tongue turned and approached the chair, his big fingers reaching for the sack hiding the captive’s face. No, don’t, I wanted to shout. Some part of me knew this was a moment that, if I didn’t die within the next hour, would haunt my thoughts as often as Mom and Dad’s murder.

Without another speech or spell, the Tongue yanked that hood off and stepped aside. When I registered who was sitting there, it took every scrap of self-control not to scream or recoil.

Damon stared back at me.

Every detail was my brother. The long face, that mop of brown hair, our father’s eyes. They bored into mine, silently pleading. He couldn’t speak; his mouth was covered by a scrap of material tied around his head. I twisted, searching for Damon at the front of the crowd, where he’d been just minutes ago. But Jassin stood alone. Smiling. As I turned back, still gaping, a faerie came forward and tugged the gag down. “Fortuna,” my brother rasped the moment the tie was gone. The voice was his, too.

Bile rose in my throat for what felt like the hundredth time that day. I staggered, the room tilting, and my gaze collided with Laurie’s. He stood at the edge of the crowd, a light in the darkness. His hair shone like a halo. He hadn’t been there before; I would’ve noticed him. “Is this real?” I managed.

His expression was grim. “I don’t know.”

For some reason, I’d expected more. When he didn’t say anything else, when he merely stared back at me, I turned back to Damon. My mind spun. What should I do? How could I outsmart them? If I tried to walk away from the test, the fae would execute me.

But it wasn’t Damon. It couldn’t be. Jassin wouldn’t let them kill his favorite plaything … would he?

I fought the urge to pace. I battled the instinct to look at Collith again. I was alone. Completely and irrevocably alone. Strangely enough, the thought made a strange calm settle over my being. Have I finally gone insane? I wondered distantly. Maybe. Or maybe feeling alone was familiar territory. It grounded me.

Slowly, I faced Damon again. I held our father’s knife in my hand—cruel, so cruel that they would choose this as the weapon—and moved to stand before him.

“Remember your promise,” Damon cried, finally wrenching at his bonds.

At this, I stopped breathing. Then relief swept through my body, so overwhelming, so profound, I almost sagged. You’re not my brother, I realized. The faeries had been eavesdropping, yes, but they hadn’t learned everything about us. Damon never would’ve used Mom against me, no matter how desperate or frightened. He’d even tried to release me from that promise when I first found him down here.

But … what if I was wrong?

No. If I allowed that fear in, it would lead back to the foggy place of despair and indecision. So, between one breath and the next, I jammed the knife—underhanded, just like our father taught us—into Damon’s heart. To keep myself from reconsidering, I twisted it. Dad’s voice filled my head. You want to reach those large blood vessels hiding behind the organs. When the arteries break open, death occurs very quickly. Regardless of what the creature has done to you, Fortuna, it’s wrong to make it suffer.

Damon’s achingly familiar eyes widened. First with disbelief, then with betrayal, then with pain.

Just as I’d hoped, it was a quick death. The muscles in Damon’s face slackened, and slowly, the tension went out of his body. The imposter wearing my brother’s face slumped. His glassy gaze fixed on mine.

I waited for the hallucination to fade, or even for the body to vanish completely.

Nothing happened.

I looked down at the knife, which I must’ve pulled out automatically. It was red up to the hilt. My fingers opened, sending the precious blade to clatter against the flagstones. I’d never stabbed someone before. No one had told me how warm it would be. How quickly the blood would cool. How sticky it would feel on my skin. The illusion was thorough, I’d give it that. Nauseated, I turned to the Tongue. “What are you waiting for? It’s over, right?”

Still he said nothing. I faced the masses, hoping to get any kind of response. Their eyes were bright and hungry. They were waiting for me to break. So patiently, so quietly. I wouldn’t give them the gratification. Instead, I lifted my chin and faced Collith. My insides roiled. “Well? Have I passed your test?” I asked. No waver or wobble betrayed me. Bring back Damon. Bring back Damon. Bring back Damon.

His expression was unreadable as ever. His crown glinted. “You have.”

“Then what is this?”

While my back was turned, the Tongue had made his way up the stairs. After I spoke, he bent to mutter something in Collith’s ear. They both regarded me for a moment more. Collith nodded, but his eyes were focused on something beyond me.

“Fortuna.”

That voice. I turned, not wanting to breathe or speak, for fear it wasn’t real.

Damon stood at the edge of the crowd, whole and alive, exactly where he’d been when I entered the room. It must’ve been part of the Tongue’s spell. His gaze darted from me to the abandoned knife. It hit me, then, that he’d just watched me kill a version of himself. Slowly, I turned back to the body. It was still there, but Damon’s face was gone. A stranger slumped in his place. He had clearly been brought up from the dungeons; his beard was long and matted, his skin covered in grime. I really had killed someone, even if it hadn’t been Damon.

None of it mattered.

In a haze, I closed the distance between me and Damon. As though they belonged to someone else, I watched my hands cup his face. They trembled against his skin. “You are my weakness,” I whispered. As long as he was alive, these creatures could control me. All this time I thought I’d been outsmarting them. Beating them at their own game. Really, I had been following every pattern and course they set before me.

For a terrible moment, I considered snapping my brother’s neck.

I heard a swift intake of breath—my own—and I swiftly withdrew from him. My chest heaved. The instant remorse felt like acid. I wished I could crawl out of my skin. What was happening? The thought of killing Damon, even if it had only lasted an instant, went against every reason I’d come to the Unseelie Court and every war I’d fought. The fae were infecting me like a disease. We’d been here too long. Never mind that I was married or that I would be queen.

We had to leave this place.

Damon said something, a note of concern in his voice. Don’t feel anything for me. I don’t deserve it, I wanted to scream at him. My first instinct was to stumble towards the door, but just as I started to, I realized how it would look. What they would think. They’d say that I was cracking. They’d conclude that I wasn’t strong enough. They’d believe that even if they hadn’t beaten me, they’d still won.

Somehow I found the strength to stop. The court waited for me to speak. There were so many of them. So many to kill.

“Where are the musicians?” I finally whispered. A one-eyed faerie in the front row stared blankly. Another frowned with incomprehension. I forced myself to speak louder. “Where are the musicians? Isn’t this a party?”

Collith must’ve made a gesture; gazes flicked toward him. Within a handful of seconds, a lute began to play. It was joined by the hollow sound of a drum. I saw humans rush through every door, holding trays aloft that were laden with drinks. More still followed with fresh, hot food. At long last, the attention fell away from me. The pressure eased in my chest. Blindly I found a spot along the wall to observe the festivities. Several faeries tried to speak with me, probably attempting to earn favor, but I acknowledged no one. Not even Jassin, who winked as he and Damon swirled past.

I waited until the celebration was well underway before slipping out the closest door.

It took longer than it should have to notice that Laurie walked beside me. Though there was so much I could’ve said, we didn’t speak. We reached Collith’s rooms without incident. In a methodical movement, I opened the door. I slipped through and peered at Laurie through the crack. “Sweet dreams, Your Majesty,” he said. Whether it was a barb or encouragement, I didn’t care. I closed the door.

Once inside, I closed my eyes and leaned against the wood for a moment. A face started to fill the darkness, though, and I hurriedly opened them again.

The room was warm and inviting. A cheery fire burned, the bed was made, and a bath awaited. Nothing had changed since I left hours ago. It seemed bizarre, even wrong, because everything had changed.

Feeling hollow, I walked to the water basin and put my hands inside. Red instantly bloomed across the clear surface. As I watched it, a whimper escaped me. Suddenly I was frantic. I rubbed at my skin so violently that water sloshed over the sides of the bowl. Within seconds all the red was off, but it wasn’t enough. I kept rubbing, scraping, splashing. I needed to feel clean. I kept seeing the glassy eyes of that man, that stranger, who’d done absolutely nothing to me. Whose blood had coated my fingers.

Only when my hands were pink and stinging did I realize the truth; I would never be clean again.

Breathing hard, I backed away from the basin. The room was too quiet, too still. Water dripped onto the dirt floor. Seconds or minutes ticked by; I wasn’t certain which. Eventually I drifted to the fire, drawn to the life emanating from those bright flames. Slowly, I dropped to my knees. The warmth was comforting, almost a presence of its own. But, inevitably, the events that had just transpired came creeping back. What I had seen. What I had done.

Quietly, so no one would hear, I pressed my face against my hands and wept.

Once my tears ran dry, I did nothing.

I didn’t read, I didn’t dream, I didn’t cry. I simply sat in front of that fire, staring down into the shifting logs and flickering embers. My hands rested palm-up in my lap, limp and red, smarting from all the scrubbing.

Eventually a laugh came from the passageway. The sound jarred me from my strange stupor. Blinking, I frowned and turned. There was more than one faerie out there; their conversation drifted through the thin door. Something about an arranged marriage between two of the wealthier bloodlines. Only half-listening, I pulled the ponytail off, allowing my thick waves to tumble free. It eased the pain in my head a bit.

The door creaked open and Collith stumbled through. The crown on his head was crooked. He collapsed into the chair nearest me. Now the crown slid to the floor with a dull sound. Oblivious, Collith leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees, and peered at me intently. In this light, his eyes were greener than ever before. “You were incredible today,” my mate said. There was a slight slur in his words.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “Are you drunk, Collith?”

“A little. I’m tired, too, which doesn’t help.” Despite his words, Collith left the comfort of the chair and lowered himself to the floor. It went against all laws of nature that he should make the move look graceful, but he did. He sat so that our shoulders pressed together. I had the distant thought that, if someone had told me a week ago I would soon be sharing a companionable silence with the King of the Unseelie Court, I would’ve laughed in their face. Yet here we were.

In another life, I would’ve called him a friend.

As the hour wore on, Collith dared to touch the back of my hand. I looked at him. Firelight flickered against half of his face, the other hidden in shadow. Through the bond, there came an undeniable feeling of longing. Collith wanted more than some fleeting moments in a bathtub. Images traveled between us, flashes of bare skin and heads thrown back.

But I felt raw. Like someone had ripped off my skin and every draft, every breath hurt. Not even someone as alluring as Collith could affect me now. Wordlessly I stood up and moved away, out of his reach. He didn’t say anything. Once again I stared into the fire. I saw myself in the flames, stabbing Damon over and over. It was a choice I could never unmake, a moment I could never forget.

I wanted Collith to be in as much pain as I was … and I knew just the words to do it.

“There can never be anything more between us, you know. I’m in love with someone else,” I said. It was hard to reconcile the dull, empty voice as my own.

The king must’ve heard the truth in it, though, because the air itself seemed to thicken. Danger, instinct warned. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked tightly.

A faint, bitter smile curved my lips. I gripped the mantle. The wood was warm and rough. “Do I need to remind you of the secrets you kept, my liege? The secrets you still keep? I don’t make a habit of baring my soul to strangers, either. Especially ones that blackmailed me into marriage.”

“I’m sorry, Fortuna.”

It was so unexpected that I faced him. I had braced myself for anger or jealousy. Instead, Collith’s haggard face held nothing but regret. “Sorry for what?” I demanded.

He got to his feet and stood a handbreadth away. If one of us took a step or a long breath, our chests would touch. “For my conduct when we first met,” he answered. His voice was low, more of a dying flame than someone trying to avoid being overheard, I thought. Pain simmered beneath his voice like embers. “For manipulating you. If you’d entered the Unseelie Court as an unclaimed creature, they would’ve killed, raped, or enslaved you within the first hour. My preference would’ve been to wait and begin a courtship, but circumstances wouldn’t allow for that. There are too many lives at stake, your brother’s included.”

I stared at him for a moment. Then, just like that, my grief turned to rage, star-bright and fire-hot. Before I could reconsider, my hands flew out to shove him. Collith caught them against his chest as if they were nothing more than butterflies. I instantly moved to yank free. “Let go! Let go of me!”

Collith kept his grip on my wrists—being as gentle as he could, I suspected—and waited for the storm to pass. It didn’t take long; grief had left me drained. After a minute or two, I closed my eyes and tipped forward, resting against his chest. Now it was my turn to say the words. “Why didn’t you just tell me any of that?” I whispered into his collarbone. What I would’ve done with such knowledge, I had no idea. But now I would never know. Now I would never have a chance to experience what could’ve been between us.

He swallowed audibly. Or maybe I was only able to hear it because I was pressed against him. Slowly, Collith loosened his iron grip on me. He bent his head and kissed the inside of my wrist. Something within me stirred. “There were a dozen reasons, really,” I heard him say. “For one, I had already started to know you. It wouldn’t have been enough incentive to agree— you would’ve opted to risk coming here without the protection of my name. Another reason is that it’s simply my nature to withhold and distrust. I wasn’t born with this scar; someone bestowed it upon me. And there’s also the fact that … I just wanted you.”

His honesty sent a bolt of panic through my heart. I pulled away and raked the hair out of my face. “What does any of this have to do with Oliver?” I asked, having trouble breathing normally. The fire had done its job too well; it felt like we were standing inside an oven.

Collith’s eyes flickered, taking note of the name. Making the connection. Ollie. Collith stepped back. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he said.

A stiff silence reigned the room now. Collith returned to the chair, pulled his boots off, and rested his elbows atop his knees. A sigh left him. Once again, it struck me as an oddly human sound. He tilted his head and peered up at me. “I can’t help thinking you would feel differently if I hadn’t made certain choices at the beginning.”

“You’re probably right,” I said bluntly. “But we can’t go back in time, can we?”

He studied my expression for a long moment. “No, we can’t.”

I still hadn’t acknowledged his admission. I just wanted you. It was as though Collith had knocked on a door that I stood on the other side of. Nothing good would come of me opening it. Instead, I flung myself into the chair next to him and said, “Hand me one of those books. Might as well keep trying to gain an advantage.”

“You’re relentless,” Collith remarked as he acquiesced. When he said it like that, it sounded like a compliment.

Our fingers brushed as I took the book from him. This one had a thick layer of dust on its cover. I brushed it off, sending particles dancing through the air, and smiled at him through the cloud. “Oh, you have no idea.”