CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I drank the sleep tonic again.

It didn’t taste any better the second time around. If it had been up to me, I would’ve preferred to fall asleep naturally and talk to Oliver. But whenever I closed my eyes, I saw that knife sliding into Damon’s chest. Well, at least I wasn’t picturing the Death Bringer or the Leviathan anymore.

For a time, the king tried to stay awake, too. He sprawled in his chair more casually than I’d ever seen him, reading a book that looked brand-new. The Drowned Girls, its title read in blocky white letters. Did he make trips to Barnes and Noble? It was an odd mental image, this beautiful faerie browsing the mystery section. More than once, I almost gave in to the urge to ask.

As Collith read, though, his eyes kept closing. Eventually he moved to the rope and asked someone to fetch the tonic. When it arrived, he gave it to me without a word.

The last thing I remembered was him carrying me to bed.

When I woke next, there was no way to tell what time it was. Voices came from the passageway, which is what must’ve pulled me from sleep—the guards were changing shifts. Afternoon, maybe, since I doubted I would be waking up so soon after drinking that concoction. I rested there for another few minutes, trying to avoid thinking about Shameek, the third trial, and what Damon was doing right then. Or what someone was doing to Damon.

Restless, I rolled onto my side. There, so close that our noses were nearly touching, Collith was still unconscious.

He was a messy sleeper, I’d learned. The two nights with him had both ended with the covers tossed or tangled. He slept in briefs—a surprisingly modern choice, given the clothing he wore at Court—and nothing else. I allowed myself a long, leisurely exploration of his body. Dark hair traveled down the center of his flat stomach and disappeared into that waistband. His thighs were slender but firm. The rest of him …

I swiftly averted my gaze and turned to leave the bed.

Since they were the only clothes I had—and I refused to stay in the outfit I’d worn during the trial—I put the jeans and plaid shirt back on. They were wrinkled but clean. Dressed and alert, I found myself with time to burn. The stack of books were right where I’d left them last night. Though the trials were behind me, the coronation lay straight ahead, which meant my education on the fae had only just begun. I felt jittery, though, and desperate to keep moving. The room seemed smaller, as if the walls had crept closer overnight.

It was probably more dangerous than ever to go for a stroll around the Unseelie Court; doubtless I had more enemies than supporters when it came to my looming queenship. But it felt like if I spent one more second in this room, with its low ceiling and never-dying flames, I was going to scream. In a burst of frustration I snatched the mirror shard from its hiding spot, shoved it into my boot, and hurried to the door.

Nuvian was waiting in the passageway, along with a guard I finally recognized. She’d been at the tribunal. A memory flashed—her fist coming at me and the taste of blood in my mouth. For a moment I glared at her. She just stared back impassively, looking so breakable in the firelight. I was tempted to do to her what I’d done to Nuvian.

Instead, though, I turned my back on them and walked away. I had no idea where I intended to go, but they didn’t know that. Well, the female didn’t know that. She was the only one who followed; Nuvian remained rooted outside Collith’s door.

Almost immediately, I found myself drawn in a certain direction. It took me a few minutes to realize that, at long last, I had learned my way to the throne room. There was the door with the snakes. There was the violent mural. Why I’d wanted to come here, I couldn’t say. Nothing good had ever come from this place. I stopped within the doorway. The long-haired female halted a few yards away. The fact that there was so much distance between us seemed odd for a faerie that had been instructed to guard me. Then I remembered she hadn’t been given that directive, exactly. She was just here because they’d probably get in even more trouble if I died and they were back at Collith’s rooms, disregarding the spirit of his order.

But none of that mattered. It was a waste of time to even think about the Guardians’ motives. Sighing, I peered at the strange chandeliers, the vast ceilings, the twisting throne. It seemed cruel to the ones that designed such a beautiful place, having their legacy stained by death and darkness.

What was it Collith had said during our dance? I remembered his hazel eyes burning with an earnestness that I’d dismissed as a facade. Something worth saving, don’t you think?

I shoved the thought into a dim, dusty corner of my mind; there was nothing worth saving in creatures like Jassin or Arcaena.

There were hardly any faeries to be seen in here now. Instead, slaves occupied most of the space. Their expressions varied from exhaustion to agitation. In that moment, I realized what these poor creatures were doing.

They were preparing for my coronation.

I stepped forward, thinking to stop them. “I wouldn’t,” Laurie said, materializing next to me. I jumped and scowled. “They’d be forced to listen to you, what with your new position, but then they’d be beaten for the unfinished work.”

My hands clenched. Yes, some things definitely needed to change around here, and I wouldn’t be as delicate as Collith in enforcing them. These creatures were in for a rude awakening.

Of their own volition, my eyes went to the spot where the redcaps had been feasting. Surprisingly, Shameek’s body was gone. There were still bloody smears on the flagstones, but everything else had been removed. I pitied the ones who’d had to do it.

Laurie stood so close to me our elbows nearly touched. “His Majesty ordered him to be buried. Highly unusual.”

“Unusual? Why?”

He raised his silvery brows. “Your friend died a traitor. Not only did he try to harm one of us, but he sided with a Nightmare instead of our superior race. I’m not saying that I share this way of thinking, of course, this is just how most of them view it. Normally the human would’ve been left to rot. Or, if he had perished another way, it would be customary to burn him, as is the fae tradition. Instead our king gave the fellow an honorable, human burial.”

The revelation sent my mind back through the passageways, twisting and winding through the dirt, until it arrived at the bed Collith still slumbered in. I imagined myself looking down at him, seeing again the lines in his skin. The jagged scar. Imperfections that managed to be beautiful, despite what they indicated.

Damon’s desperate, hope-tinged words echoed back to me. There’s some good in him.

Was this how Jassin had brainwashed my brother? Was I walking the same path that had led him here?

Disturbed by the thought, I faced Laurie, effectively putting the entire room out of sight. Now it was my turn to raise a brow. “I thought our … association was over.”

“Nothing ends, Fortuna Sworn,” he responded airily. He kept his gaze on the humans making their harried arrangements. “There are only continuations and beginnings.”

I couldn’t resist the urge to roll my eyes. In the next instant, a girl—she couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen—dashed by. A woman standing in a distant doorway made a sharp gesture at her and said something in Russian. The girl reached her and, after the older slave snatched her arm in a rough grip, they vanished.

There were still others in the room, but watching those two leave was a reminder of the work I had to do, too. In my head, reading those books on the fae had become not just important, but necessary. Someday the knowledge they held would either save lives or bring about the end of this court.

The two weren’t mutually exclusive, actually.

With that, my sense of urgency was back. I started toward the double doors and Laurie fell into step beside me. Once again, the female guard kept her distance as she followed. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that night,” I said to Laurie, keeping my voice low. The guard could probably hear every word, anyway. “It was you who sent Collith’s guards away, didn’t you? The whole thing was a test. You wanted to see what I’d do.”

Laurie laughed. The sound was lovely, however loathe I was to admit it. “I’d love to pretend I have that much power,” he answered. Laugh all you want, I thought. We should’ve known you could lie. You’ve had longer than anyone else to perfect it.

Another silence came between us. As it became overlong, the throne filled my thoughts again. I tried to imagine myself sitting there, embraced by all those gnarled branches. Facing an entire court of monsters. I couldn’t hide a note of apprehension as I asked, “What’s it like? The ceremony?”

“Let me think. Ah, well, have you ever seen the coronation of a British monarch?”

“No.”

“You haven’t missed anything exciting, rest assured. One of their kings, Ecgfrith, was fae. That isn’t common knowledge, by the way, so I wouldn’t go sharing it. Anyhow, he borrowed most of our traditions for his shiny coronation. Really, though, I’d say the most significant part is the vows of fealty.”

Those three words sent my heart sprinting. Collith had mentioned this already—it was the reason I’d put myself through those hellish trials to begin with—but here was a chance to know even more. “Does every member of the court make one?” I ventured, trying to sound offhand. There was a thick root jutting from our path. As I stepped over it, Laurie shifted as though to hold out his hand, but he didn’t. He hopped over the root, every movement fluid and deliberate as a rushing river. What are you hiding, faerie? I wondered.

“I admit, I’m tempted to say ‘yes’ just to see your face,” Laurie said, ignoring the obvious lull. “But no. Just the heads of the bloodlines—or a descendant standing in for them—and the Guardians.”

Collith’s room loomed ahead. Nuvian was gone, which likely meant the king was, too. The realization sent a flood of … something through me. Not disappointment, of course. More like chagrin. I had hoped to hear how Damon was, or request more books, or ask where Shameek was buried. His family deserved to know what had happened to him. “What do rulers usually ask for? As proof of their loyalty, I mean?” I asked, acting as though I was unaffected by returning to an empty room.

We were almost to the door. To my question, Laurie shrugged. His expression didn’t reveal how he felt about Collith’s absence, either. “Usually a bit of blood.”

A tiny, dark smile hovered at the edges of my mouth. Oh, there would be blood, all right.

“Now.” At the door, Laurie turned and focused on me. His eyes seemed to glow in the dimness. “Would you like to see your dress?”

Laurie had outdone himself this time.

The dress was both bizarre and beautiful. Its bodice was hard and textured, a sort of exotic flowered pattern in hues of red, yellow, and black. The neckline was low and straight across, lined with faux fur—at least, I hoped it was faux fur. At my thighs, it ended in ragged strands, as though someone had torn the skirt off. This was where the tulle began. The length was long, dark, and dramatic. The sleeves, too, were made of this see-through material. I stood in front of the mirror Laurie must’ve had delivered, fingering its texture.

“And one final touch.” As was becoming his habit, Laurie popped into being behind me. An irritated growl ripped from my throat. He acted like he hadn’t heard and dropped a necklace around my neck. It took him a moment to secure the clasp, and when I saw it was the sapphire Collith had given me, I had an instant to reject it. A chance to deny it.

I didn’t move. The chain settled into place, a cool spot against my skin. The jewel was a solid weight. Light flickered along the edges and facets. “Why does it matter so much what I’m wearing?” I asked, touching it.

“The more they care about your dress and how low your neckline is, the less they’re going to care about what you’re actually doing in it.”

“Really?”

“No.”

I couldn’t hold back a laugh. Laurie was still behind me, his fingers making quick work of the buttons. In the mirror’s reflection, I caught him smiling. His head was bent, and because he was taller, a silken strand of his hair brushed my bare shoulder. Somehow I didn’t think it was accidental. An involuntary shiver whispered through me. Jesus, what’s wrong with you? I thought, turning quickly. Oliver, Collith, Laurie …

“It’s all right, you know,” Laurie said suddenly. He saw the question in my expression and smiled again. There was no mockery in it, thankfully; I only saw kindness and a hint of sympathy. “Sex. Desire. Lust. These things are natural. Humans have taught themselves restraint—they believe to give in is to be wanting, somehow—but that’s such small thinking. Why set limits when we are creatures of impulse?”

“Because there are always consequences,” I countered, my cheeks hot. Our faces were a breath apart. It would take a single movement to close the distance. “Aren’t fae all about balance, too?”

“Touché. But coming from someone who’s been alive much, much longer than you, a word of advice. My biggest regrets over the centuries were not borne from ‘consequences’; they were because I let pesky fears get in the way. Hey, you know a thing or two about fear, don’t you?”

With a wink, the bright-headed faerie moved to the door. Once again, I rolled my eyes. Laurie didn’t see it, though. “Any other words of wisdom before I go become Queen of the Unseelie Court?” I drawled after him, hoping he didn’t sense the pang of apprehension within me.

He paused with one hand on the door. His expression sobered. “Don’t thank them for their fealty. You’ve earned it. It’s your right,” he said.

“That’s not arrogant at all.”

The lovely faerie inclined his head. “Of course it is. We are Fallen. Arrogance is in our blood.”

With that, he was through the door. The guards standing outside startled at the suddenness of it. Laurie walked past, but they didn’t spare him so much as a glance; instead, they both gave me odd looks. I frowned back. Was the dress ridiculous? Is that what had their panties in a bunch?

“Fortuna? Are you ready?” a familiar voice asked. A moment later, Collith appeared, and the sight of him made my stomach flutter. He was every inch the king of shadows and impulse. His legs were once again encased in black leather pants, and the tightness of them made his muscles more prominent. Over these he wore a long, red coat. Its trimming was also leather. The shoulders were made of a material that was hard and spiked. The shirt beneath was white and loose, but cut deeply, revealing the smooth planes of his chest.

And there, glinting against his skin, he wore a sapphire that matched mine. “I had it made,” Collith murmured, noticing the direction of my gaze. “Fae males have never worn something to represent their mates, which seemed strange to me. Why wouldn’t we want to announce it to the world? Why shouldn’t our partners have the same expectations our customs expect of them?”

We hadn’t spoken to each other since I’d said that I would never love him—it was baffling that these were the words he chose. Words that made it plain he thought we had a future. I didn’t know how to respond. Strangely, I didn’t have it in me to shatter his hopes again. I was also self-conscious that Nuvian and the other guard could hear our exchange. “We’d better go,” was all I said.

Moving at the same time, he offered his arm just as I reached to take it. Collith smiled. It transformed his entire face, and I smiled back without thinking. Something soft and colorful flew down the bond. It took me several seconds to realize it was awe. For a disorienting moment, I saw myself through Collith’s eyes. It was my face, but not the one I saw in any mirror or reflection. Collith thought I was beautiful. Not for my perfection, though … he admired my endurance. My devotion to Damon. My ferocity.

“It’s not too late,” Collith said quietly, unaware that I’d slipped inside his head.

I blinked in confusion. Oh. To change my mind, he meant. I’d thought we were done having this conversation. “One would think you’re having regrets, Your Majesty,” I retorted, tucking what just happened away for later contemplation.

“About you? Never.”

Then what do you have regrets about? I wanted to ask. But we were being joined by more guards and, after the third trial, I was leery of having an audience. They walked ahead and behind us, creating a protective barrier, and we began the journey towards the throne room. With every step, my anxiety heightened. Clammy palms, shallow breaths, overwhelming urges. Collith sensed it—or maybe just saw it on my face—and threaded our fingers together in reassurance. I allowed the touch, because it felt like the only thing stopping me from bolting.

The passages weren’t empty today; every few feet, there were clusters of fae. When they spotted us, they went silent. Once or twice, I thought I heard something muttered in my direction, but we walked too quickly to catch the words.

It felt like we arrived at the throne room in seconds instead of minutes. We halted beneath the mural, and I wasn’t ready for the scene we came upon. Wasn’t ready for any of it, period.

The entire Unseelie Court was waiting. It was more faeries than had attended the first, second, and third trial combined. I’d never seen such a huge gathering before. Like me, the fae were dressed to impress. Even from my limited vantage point, I could see there were hundreds of beautiful gowns and tailored suits. Countless voices floated toward the ceiling, sounding more like a great waterfall than separate conversations. Little by little, though, the crowd noticed our presence in the doorway. A hush fell.

The path to the throne—no, thrones, since there were two up there now—was so narrow that Collith and I had to walk with our shoulders pressed together. One of his spikes pressed against my skin, but they were more decorative than efficient, because it was merely uncomfortable instead of painful.

As we made our way to the dais, the assembled faeries started throwing tokens into our path. Roses, jewelry, letters. So many that I had to hide my surprise. Were they hoping to gain favor? Was it a tradition? Or was it just my effect as a Nightmare?

There were some that spit or sneered, of course. Those were the ones that I gave a serene smile, hoping they saw it for the silent taunt it was. It also held a promise; I hadn’t even begun repaying them for what had been done to me and Damon.

Damon, who I had yet to find amongst the faces turned my way.

After we reached the front, Collith moved aside. Immediately over a dozen faeries moved to form a half-circle behind me. One of them wore beads in her hair; they made a tinkling sound every time she shifted. I glanced over the rest, curious if these were the heads of the bloodlines. Four of them were Tarragon, Chandrelle, and the twins. The dark-skinned male emanated tranquility, as he had every time I’d encountered him. Chandrelle’s expression was carefully blank. And Arcaena watched me with glittering eyes that resembled a snake curled in sand. By the look of it, anyone would think it was drowsy or slow to react … and that would be the last mistake they ever made. It went against all my instincts to put my back to her.

The rest were strangers. I didn’t know who was an enemy or an ally.

The Tongue was present, too, of course. His robes were of the brightest, purest white. The only jewelry he wore were several golden rings on his thick fingers. Once everyone was in place, he proceeded with his usual combination of gestures, ingredients, and incantations. His jowls jiggled. I paid attention with a dedication I’d never shown in school, hoping to recognize a ritual from Collith’s books, but my attention kept wandering. Where was Damon? Had Jassin guessed at my plan and locked him away?

None of what followed felt real—it had the haziness of being trapped between a dream and coming awake. After a time, the Tongue told me to kneel. I was barely aware of obeying; my pulse was a herd of wild horses thundering over hills and rivers. “Are you willing to take the oath, Fortuna Sworn?” the faerie finally boomed in English.

I hesitated, and in the following silence, Collith’s voice drifted through my mind. There’s something else you should know. One of the rituals during the coronation might make you reconsider. After it’s completed, in the same way you and I are bound, so you would be bound to them.

Them?

Every single faerie that resides in this court.

The Tongue was still waiting for an answer. I licked my lips. “Yes, I am.”

He paused, as if he sensed my trepidation, and I stopped breathing. He regarded me with his beady, dark eyes. After a moment, the faerie started asked a series of questions. Though he still spoke in English, the language he used was convoluted. I still hardly understood what he was saying. Belying the riot happening inside me, though, I agreed to each without hesitation or waver. My voice echoed throughout the room.

At the end of it, the Tongue placed a crown made of twigs on my head. Leaves still danged off the delicate branches. That was when everything became clear again, sharpening and brightening like an image in Photoshop. I arched my neck back to peer up at the Tongue, but he didn’t pronounce me queen, as I thought he would. He gestured that I should stand, which I did. No one spoke or moved. I waited for their thoughts or desires to invade me. Nothing happened. Clearly, I was supposed to do something. I searched for Laurie, hoping he would offer guidance.

“Fortuna,” Collith said from the throne. I turned quickly. He sat there, detached and unmoving. “Claim your place here.”

For the first time, I truly looked at it. The new throne was not natural or worn, like the one Collith sat in. Instead, it was a formidable chair. The back of it was several feet tall. Its cushions were the color of blood. High above, in the place of wings, was an intricate design. There someone had recreated the Leviathan in gleaming silver. Its tail curved around one edge, and flames shot down the other.

Whether the choice was meant to be a jab or a symbol of strength, I had no idea, but it was a reminder of the blood on my hands because of these creatures. I gritted my teeth, ascended the stairs, and gathered my dress. The skirt flared around me dramatically as I sat. Hundreds of faces stared back at me. I tried to imitate Collith’s expressionless countenance, but my blood burned too hot. I knew I was glaring.

After a stilted stillness, Nuvian stepped forward. He removed his sword from its sheath, knelt, and touched its tip to the floor. His armor looked as though it had been buffed with oil. “I am Nuvian of the bloodline Folduin,” he said loudly enough to make his voice carry. “I pledge my life and loyalty to Queen Fortuna. What does she require?”

Remembering Laurie’s comments, I gripped the armrests and answered, “I require a drop of blood.”

Without hesitation, Nuvian sliced the fleshy part of his palm with that wicked-looking edge. Scarlet drops appeared. The faerie flipped his hand and the court watched as they plummeted to the flagstones. After this, Nuvian got back to his feet. I was relieved there wasn’t anything more to it, and it was on the tip of my tongue to thank him. Luckily, the Right Hand retreated before any words could escape.

Another faerie was already moving forward. We went through the same song and dance. She walked backwards, melding into the crowd, and yet another occupied the spot. I tried to remember the names and faces, but there were too many. Úna made her vow, of course, her eyes burning with desire as she spoke the formal words. Instead I heard her saying, spittle flying from her mouth, Remember that I helped you. It was a relief when she completed the vows. Then it was Omar’s turn; he trembled through every second.

Eventually I lost track of time. There were no clocks at the Unseelie Court. It was taking all my self-control not to fidget as I waited for Jassin to come forward. Where is he, damn it?

Apparently every Guardian had made their pledge and it was time for the bloodlines; a male separated from the throng that didn’t carry a sword. When I noticed who he’d left behind, my spine straightened a bit. Here we go, I thought.

The faerie bent a knee. He was rather unremarkable, as faeries went, with a square chin and a blunt haircut. He wore gray slacks and a matching jacket. I sensed no power within him. In fact, were it not for his pointed ears, I would’ve assumed he was human. “I am Ilphas of the bloodline Daenan,” the male announced. “I pledge my life and loyalty to Queen Fortuna. What does she require?”

I tilted my head. “Is that your mate, Ilphas?”

Surprise flickered in his eyes. I felt the shock of the onlookers, too; this was the first time I’d said anything beyond the request for a drop of blood. He glanced behind him and saw that I was, indeed, pointing to the female he’d been standing beside. The chain she held, which was attached to the emaciated werewolf, had been clinking throughout my ceremony. “She is, Your Majesty.”

“Wonderful. For your fealty, I require the werewolf’s freedom,” I stated. Collith was staring, I could feel it. I was going off the script that had been written for me.

Clearly befuddled by this turn of events, Ilphas opened his mouth. “Unfortunately—”

I could already hear the words that would come out of it. Something along the lines of, Unfortunately the wolf is not mine to give. My nostrils flared. “Ah, don’t lie to me, now. I believe the fae take ‘what’s yours is mine’ even more seriously than humans when it comes to marriage. If the wolf is hers, you have a claim to it, as well. Please don’t waste more of the court’s time.”

His mouth tightened with displeasure. What bothered him more, I wondered? Taking orders from a female or taking orders from a Nightmare? Hell, probably both. But Ilphas was no fool; he stopped arguing. He bowed again—this one notably briefer— and walked back to his mate. They whispered furiously. At last, Ilphas yanked the end of the chain from her grasp. She turned her gaze on me, visibly simmering. The clear jewel resting against her forehead quivered. Ilphas returned to the base of the dais, yanking the werewolf along behind him. The creature didn’t have enough spirit left to resist, and its nails clicked against the stones meekly. Ilphas thrust the end of the chain at me. “My fealty, Your Majesty.”

“Take him to my room. Stay with him, if he reacts badly, but do not cause him any pain or harm. I’ll come after the ceremony,” I added. Ilphas bowed a third time, wisely keeping any remarks or reactions to himself, and walked toward the nearest exit.

Arcaena took his place.

The moment I caught sight of her, my blood went cold. All thoughts of the werewolf ran shrieking. Her eyes gleamed as our gazes met. There was no trace of fear in her; she thought me weak. Bound in chains of her own making, she’d said. Well, those chains were gone now.

A moment later, the ancient faerie’s voice sliced through the silence, and I knew I wasn’t imagining the trace of mockery in her tone. It felt grating to my ears. “I am Arcaena of the bloodline Tralee. I pledge my life and loyalty to Queen Fortuna of the Unseelie Court. What does she require?”

I’d been waiting for this moment since the night she used her power on me. I wanted to savor it. Memorize it. After she spoke, we stared at each other, the seconds ticking past. I knew we were both hearing the words I’d hissed at her only hours ago. Remember this moment. I know I will.

Just as Collith turned to me, probably to ask why I hadn’t asked for fealty yet, I smiled at Arcaena of the bloodline Tralee. “Are you familiar with the Rites of Thogon?” I questioned.

Once more, I felt the force of the king’s attention. Waves of alarm and surprise came through the bond. I ignored him. Arcaena was worried, too—though she wasn’t moving, somehow the faerie had gone still. “I am,” she said tightly.

“Excellent. Perform them on yourself. That is what I require.”

The silence shattered. Hundreds of faeries began talking all at once. No one dared intervene or protest, but the court’s shock was palpable. They were probably wondering how I’d even come into possession of such venerable knowledge.

The Rites of Thogon. Centuries ago, there had been an unusual faerie, known for his kindness and empathy. He was also famous for his eerie abilities; a single touch inflicted gruesome diseases upon his victims. When Thogon met and fell in love with a human, he decided to do whatever it took to free himself of this terrible power. He went to witches and spoke to demons. After years of failed attempts, he succeeded in stripping himself of his powers with what became known as the Rites of Thogon. But, as with most things fae, it had come at a terrible cost.

The rites made Thogon mortal.

Looking like a cornered rat, Arcaena glanced at the Guardians lining the walls and blocking the doorways. There was no pity in their faces or loosening of the grips on their hilts. Next she looked to her twin, who was tight-lipped with fury, but clearly powerless to intervene. Her choice was as simple as mine had been when I’d faced Damon with our father’s knife—obey or be killed.

I watched her come to this realization. At last, Arcaena faced me again. Her lip curled, hatred sparking from those eyes now, and I knew I’d made a true enemy. Bring it on, I thought at her, wishing Damon were here to see what was coming. This ancient faerie would be as powerless as I had been. As Damon had been. They weren’t invincible. They weren’t omnipotent.

Whatever her flaws, at least Arcaena didn’t bother delaying the inevitable. Like a soufflé, she sank to the floor in a fluid motion. A Guardian removed a dagger from his boot and held it out to her. After a hesitation so short I wondered if I’d imagined it, she accepted the blade and pressed it to her palm. Then, using her own blood, Arcaena drew symbols on the flagstones. She couldn’t hide the way her hands shook. Even this part of the spell was grueling; several times she had to make a new cut to get more blood. She must’ve made a mistake at one point, because the Tongue stepped forward and said something that sounded like a correction. Arcaena didn’t acknowledge him.

Then she started the recitation.

Saying the words were easy, at first. But everyone knew the exact moment she began to feel it—Arcaena suddenly hunched. The jut of her spine was at odds with the graceful faerie I’d seen so far. Her voice became halting and gutteral. From what I’d understood of the text, the spell was yanking her powers out like a tapeworm out of someone’s intestines. Drool gleamed on the stones at Arcaena’s knees. To her credit, she didn’t stop … and it wasn’t a short spell.

We watched her perform the rites for the better part of an hour.

At last, Arcaena’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she collapsed. Everyone in the room waited with baited breath, but she didn’t regain consciousness. A trickle of blood came from her nose. I nodded at Nuvian, who gestured curtly to two of his Guardians. They hurried down the dais and took hold of Arcaena’s arms. Just as I had been after my tribunal, they dragged her away. I didn’t take my eyes off their progress for a single moment. Only until the three of them disappeared through a side door did I turn my focus back those still waiting to make their vows.

“Shall we continue?” I asked. My entire body thrummed. I felt more alive than I ever had before.

To my surprise, another Guardian stepped forward. Either there was no particular order to the vows or this one was late in coming forward. I suspected the latter. It was the faerie who’d struck me at the tribunal. She met my gaze unflinchingly, but we both knew that just as Arcaena was, this faerie was at my mercy. Even so, her voice rang into the stillness without wavering. “I am Lyari of the bloodline Paynore. I pledge my life and loyalty to Queen Fortuna. What does she require?”

Once again, I allowed silence to fill the space between us. Somewhere in the crowd, a human coughed. As my indecision stretched, I realized that something kept me from taking immediate retribution upon Lyari.

This faerie’s beauty was more delicate than most. Her nose was small and slightly upturned. Her skin was as luminescent as a pearl. There was a tiny cleft in her chin that was more charming than rebellious. Her hair fell to her waist in rich, umber waves. Perhaps her violence came not from darkness, but from a fierce desire to prove herself.

“For your pledge of fealty, I require you to act as my personal guard,” I pronounced.

Lyari’s eyes widened before she caught herself and schooled her expression. She nodded once, a jerky movement, and ascended the dais to stand at my right. My very own Right Hand. I waved at the crowd to continue, and the next faerie emerged.

Jassin smiled up at me.

I ordered my heart to calm. There stood Damon, just behind him. I scanned my brother’s face, seeking any new cuts or bruises. Then, when he was certain I’d see it, Jassin grabbed Damon’s chin and jerked his head to the right. He kissed him, a hard and wet claiming. His timing had been deliberate—now that Damon’s head was turned, I saw the red handprint on his cheek. There was no doubt in my mind that it would match the shape of Jassin’s.

“Your vow, faerie,” I spat. The creature lingered before releasing Damon. He faced me, every inch of him the picture of compliance. He stood with his hands folded behind his back, his long tresses straightened and shining. Not a single hair out of place. “I am Jassin of the bloodline Sarwraek,” he purred. “I pledge my life and loyalty to Queen Fortuna. What does she require?”

There was a swarm of hornets in my stomach now. This was the question that had pounded at me from the moment Collith mentioned the vows of fealty. This was the question that had lived in every thought as I fought the Leviathan. This was the question that had given me hope in all this deep, endless darkness. “For your pledge, I require the release of Damon Sworn,” I said.

However ingenious I’d thought my idea was, no one else seemed astonished. With an unhappy expression, Damon began to walk toward me. Once again I didn’t dare to breathe, on the slight chance it would wake me up, and this ceremony turned out to be a dream. I did it. I can’t believe I did it, I thought dazedly. Whatever else happened to me, at least Damon was safe. He would go on to have the life our parents envisioned for him.

He hadn’t even made it to the dais when Jassin grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

My brother wasn’t able to stifle a cry of pain. I leapt up, on the verge of calling for the guards. “You never specified the length of time, my lady,” Jassin interjected. Damon kept his eyes on the ground, his face just low enough that I couldn’t see it, and I wondered if he was trying to hide relief.

Rage boiled inside me, more at my own folly than Jassin’s trickery. Collith said something then, his tone logical and soothing. But I couldn’t make out the words past the roaring in my ears. The wrath spilled over. I looked at the Unseelie King and said, my voice strangely distant, “Someone has to stop him, Collith.”

Terror shone in his eyes. “Fortuna, don’t—”

I fixed my gaze on Jassin and breathed, “I challenge you.”

Yet another ripple of shock went through the crowd. Challenges were a tradition they had ceased using centuries ago— even the fae thought it was archaic—but I’d stumbled across the information in one of Collith’s books. The opponents were placed in a warded circle. The magic couldn’t be broken until one of them was dead. The fights were usually bloody and brutal, but sometimes, they lasted days. In one circumstance, it went on for years.

The Tongue was already at our sides; he moved quickly for someone his size. As the crowd buzzed, he went about sprinkling a circle of white powder around us, leaving a small piece of the ground untouched. Salt. In a detached way, I wondered what he got out of all this, if using such power drained the very years from him. “As is custom, the challenged will be allowed to choose the weapon,” the Tongue informed me, thankfully oblivious to my thoughts.

I shrugged. “Fine.”

The heavyset faerie left to fetch some ingredients from an awaiting slave. Jassin fixed his emerald eyes on me. “Did you like my gift?” he whispered. “I would’ve used your brother, but they wanted him alive for the third trial, so I made do.”

For a moment, I stared at him. What the hell is he talking about? It only took a few more seconds to put it together, though. The realization hit me like highway collision. Shameek. His gift had been Shameek. On that table, being feasted on, more blood and bones than a body.

I was going to be sick.

The Tongue returned with a handful of odds and ends. His palm cupped a dead dragonfly, a rodent-sized heart, a blue flower, and a tusk of some sort. I breathed evenly and refused to let Jassin glimpse the fury coursing through me at his revelation. “Enough. Make your choice,” I ordered. Surprisingly, there was no giveaway in my voice.

Jassin looked to the Tongue, who nodded to indicate, I assumed, that I was right. It was time to choose the weapon I was going to kill him with. My brother’s tormentor smiled and said, “I choose … fear.”

It was better than a soap opera; the Unseelie Court burst into sound again after Jassin spoke. The Tongue raised his voice over the masses, brandishing that trusty knife of his. He grasped Jassin’s pale hand and cut it, then did the same to mine. I hardly registered the pain. He left the circle and closed it behind him.

“Our blood was once as bright as the sun. Did you know that?” Jassin asked, watching me instead of the bright beads swelling through our broken skin. Laurie had spoken the truth —their blood was blue. The vibrant drops fell into the fire with faint hisses. There was a tangible shift in the air, but I couldn’t define what kind, exactly. The din happening outside the circle seemed muted, as well. I didn’t reply, but I kept my eyes on Jassin’s as the Tongue starting chanting rapidly in the language of angels.

Suddenly I felt a spot of warmth at my side. When I dared a glance, I was shocked to see Laurie. No one looked his way or questioned his presence right outside the circle. Just as the guards hadn’t when he’d left Collith’s rooms. Just as Collith himself hadn’t on every occasion they occupied the same space.

In that instant, a puzzle piece clicked into place. Something I should’ve realized days ago. “They can’t see you, can they?” I asked under my breath. Jassin quirked a brow, knowing I wasn’t speaking to him, somehow.

“No,” Laurie said simply.

He didn’t offer any explanations. My mind raced. “Well, your secret will probably die with me in a few minutes.”

“Are you broken?” Jassin asked, his tone mildly curious.

We both ignored him. Laurie moved into my line of vision. He was dressed in a royal blue tunic with gold trimming. Combined with his silver hair, he was devastating. Who the hell was this faerie? “I just wanted to say that you’re the bravest creature I’ve ever met,” he told me with undeniable sincerity. “Should’ve mentioned it earlier. You distracted me.”

I choked on a hysterical laugh. “That’s nice, but compliments won’t help me terrify a faerie who gets off on fear.”

“Don’t you know what strengthens a Nightmare’s power?” Laurie crooked his finger and leaned over the fire. His breath—which somehow smelled of wildflowers and green things—warmed my neck. “Unleashed fury. Pain. The things bad dreams are made of.”

Before I could respond or react, he blew a kiss and retreated. Then I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to; the spell was taking hold of me and Jassin. It was a sensation akin to falling. Colors and snapshots blurred past. Eons later, the chaos screeched to a halt. I was still standing, I realized, and my eyes were closed.

Jassin had chosen fear, which meant I was about to get a taste of my own medicine. Except, in this case, one or both of us was definitely going to die from it. I wasn’t off to a good start, either, seeing as dread was already trying to sink its claws into me. I reluctantly opened my eyes, prepared to see the garage where the goblins had kept me, or the Death Bringer, or that wet dungeon. Instead, I opened my eyes to a ceiling. It was night. Rain pattered against the window to my left. I was lying down. A small boy was tucked against my side, thumb lodged firmly in his mouth as he slept.

I recognized it all instantly. Panic burned through me like wildfire. Oh, Fortuna, you fool.

This was where my parents were killed.

Before Oliver had manifested, when I was a child, nightmares plagued me constantly. I always woke with my chest heaving, skin gleaming with sweat. On the night my parents died, I had another one. But that time, as my eyes opened, a roar shook the entire house.

It was inhuman, full of rage and hunger. I flew upright, still trapped halfway between nightmare and reality. Damon didn’t stir. There came the sound of tearing flesh. A gurgle. I was frozen with terror. Get out, get out, get out, instinct screamed.

But I wasn’t controlling this vision. Jassin was. He wasn’t about to change history in my favor.

Against my will, I carefully peeled the covers aside. On eight-year-old legs I padded into the hallway, making sure to close the door behind me. Damon was my constant shadow, and if he woke up, he’d insist on following. I turned, thinking to check the living room in case the TV was on … and stopped short at the sight of a small figure on the floor, slumped against the wall. A whimper left me. “Mommy?”

No answer.

Though the urge to run filled every fiber of my being, I approached the prone form. My mother had died with her mouth open, probably just as she’d been about to scream. Her eyes were wide and terrified. Her entire front had been torn open like it was paper and her insides spilled onto the carpet.

I felt my mind crack. It was close, so close to shattering. But I was moving again, stepping over Mom. I knew where I was heading. Trapped inside this younger version of myself, I fought it. Pleas and sobs lodged in my throat. I imagined digging my heels in, grabbing hold of the doorway, anything to stay out of that room. Younger me was naive, though. She had hope that she’d find one of her parents still alive.

Dad hadn’t even had a chance to get out of bed.

The only reason Mom had gotten so far was most likely because the killer had been busy eating her husband. I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she’d been trying to reach us. Protect us. On feet that didn’t feel like mine, I drifted closer. Closer. The thing in the bed wasn’t my father. Light from the hallway spilled over him, revealing every detail.

Insanity breathed down my neck. I tried to summon the fury Laurie had said to unleash, but all I could find was the pain. “No, no, no,” younger me started to moan. “Daddy, wake up. Please. Daddy.”

The word ended on a scream.

Shuddering, I bunched the bedsheets in my fists. I fumbled for another way to combat the fear threatening to consume me. If not anger, then its opposite. What would that be?

As though he were there, hearing my desperate thoughts, the answer came. It was another memory of Dad. Not this one; a real one. When he was warm and alive. I’d just woken from yet another nightmare. He rushed into the room—one of them always did—and rocked me until my sobs quieted. I’m going to tell you something very important, and you need to guard it like a secret, okay? he’d said. Our power is not inescapable. There is something stronger than fear.

With that, he pressed a hand to my small chest. He told me that what I felt for Damon, for my parents, that was stronger than the quaking in my stomach and the sweat on my brow.

So now, years later, I finally took Dad’s advice and thought of them. My mother and her soft hands. My father and the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. Damon and his shy smile. Family. Joy. Love. I wrapped it around me like a blanket.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the throne room.

Jassin still stood across the fire, holding his fist up. A trail of dried blood coated the inside of his wrist. When he comprehended that I’d pulled out of the vision, very much intact, Jassin frowned. “My turn,” I crooned. He blinked, but besides that single moment, there was no chance for him to react.

Like a tsunami, my will crashed over him. It turned out that the spell amplified my abilities—locating Jassin’s biggest fear was easier than breathing. What I found made my brows rise with incredulity.

Despite my surprise, I didn’t let that stop me from using it instantly. The next moment, we were surrounded by iridescent, ancient, incomprehensible light. Jassin cowered on his knees, holding that bloody hand up to shield his eyes. A voice came from the radiance. It was neither male or female, young or old, angry or forgiving. My mind nearly broke from the power of it. “I will repay each person according to what they have done,” the voice said, reverberating all around us.

Someone was screaming.

The illusion faded. I staggered but managed to stay on my feet. It was a struggle to make my mind come to terms with reality.

When it did, my heart broke all over again. Damon was crouched over Jassin, who lay unmoving on the stones. Blood ran from the faerie’s ears, nose, and eyes. The pain I felt wasn’t for Jassin, of course—it was for my brother, who was wailing like I’d never heard him do before. Despite the awfulness of that sound, it confirmed that Jassin was well and truly dead. I was unable to stop a sigh of exhaustion and relief. My legs shook. Any second now I was going to pass out.

Belatedly, I noticed the crown, resting haphazardly and abandoned on the floor. Feeling like an old woman, I slowly bent to pick it up. That was when I noticed the stares.

Every faerie in the room waited for me to say something. As I put the crown back into place, I didn’t let myself look toward the throne, where Collith had remained throughout the whole ordeal. His voice drifted through my memory. History has already proven that ruling with fear leads to discord and treason. When I took the throne, I sought to rule with law and objectivity instead.

Fear was all I knew.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” I said, meeting as many gazes as I could. Damon kept crying. “If you fuck with me and mine, I will return the favor tenfold.”

The statement had its intended effect; most in the court regarded me with wariness now. Unable to resist, my eyes went to the figure sitting on that gnarled throne. His was full of admiration and something else I didn’t expect.

Sorrow.

I raised my chin and—appearances be damned—swept out of the throne room.