CHAPTER NINETEEN

This time, Lyari didn’t follow at a distance.

Apparently pledges were taken seriously, because she stayed right on my heels. No one was going to assassinate me today, that was for certain. Good thing, too, since all I wanted to do was take off the dress, lay down, and let sleep take me.

It wasn’t until I was halfway back to Collith’s rooms that I remembered the command I’d given. 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.

Shit. The werewolf.

Willing myself not to appear as broken as I felt, I approached Ilphas, who’d followed my commands to the letter. “How is he?” I asked. One of the torches flickered, so close to dying.

“He hasn’t made a sound, Your Majesty,” he said, keeping his gaze forward. Couldn’t blame the guy, really. I’d humiliated him pretty thoroughly. I was glad the bonding spell between me and the entire court hadn’t seemed to kick in yet. Maybe, if I was really lucky, it never would.

As to Ilphas’s answer, I wasn’t sure quiet was a good thing or a bad thing. What if I opened the door and the werewolf attacked me?

Well, only one way to find out. I couldn’t exactly ask someone else to risk their life. Brushing past Ilphas, giving myself no chances to reconsider, I slipped inside. The male didn’t try to stop me, but Lyari did. “Your Majesty—” she started, her melodic voice at odds with the note of exasperation in it. Maybe she was just realizing that guarding me was not going to be an easy task.

The door closed in her face. I pressed my back against it and turned, steeling myself for a burst of claws and teeth. The mirror shard was tucked away, utterly out of reach. The only weapon at my disposal was fear. Hopefully there was enough of a person left in that damaged body to feel it.

In all the human legends and lore, werewolves were beasts of fury and bloodlust. They didn’t feel things like distress or pain. They were driven by the hunt and nothing else.

But the creature on the other side of the room was not one from those stories. Yes, it was massive. Looking at it, I would guess it stood at six feet and weighed around one hundred and fifty pounds. Were it healthier, that number would be much higher. That was where the similarities ended, though. This beast cowered in the corner, as far from the door it could get, and stared at me with wide eyes. The terror was evident in every line of its furred body. Hair along its spine stood on end.

The crown probably made me look bigger and otherworldly —I removed it without any hesitation and set it on the ground. Next I removed the sapphire, which was flashing every time I shifted. Finished, I presented my hands to the werewolf, palms out. See? the gesture said. Empty.

The creature still wore the chain, but the end of it dragged through the dirt, unheeded. At this proximity I could see that there was a ring of scabs and bald patches where the links rested around its neck. Physical proof, as if I needed any, that the wretched female I’d taken him from had been yanking and pulling this wolf around for months. Did it worry that I’d saved it only to be another cruel master?

“You’re safe now,” I whispered, worried speaking any louder would frighten it into action. “You can change back.”

The werewolf just kept staring at me. I knew that they had supernatural healing, but I wasn’t sure whether he—or she— had been tortured or harmed with holy water. If that were the case, it would have wounds that were healing at a human rate, or even slower. I’d have to get closer to see. Maybe that’s what had kept it from changing back all this time.

When I was a teenager, still dreaming of being a veterinarian, I had researched how to approach fearful dogs. Granted, this was no dog, but maybe the basic concepts still applied. I turned slightly so my side faced the wolf. Avoiding eye contact, I took a step toward it. The creature’s lips curled, revealing two rows of sharp teeth.

Okay, then. Time for a new plan. Still moving at a cautious speed, I went to the rope hanging next to the door and pulled on it. The werewolf watched everything, its ears flattened against its head. Remembering how quickly Laurie had gone into the passageway, I only waited a few seconds before doing so myself.

When I opened the door, Lyari shoved past me with a muttered curse. I heard the word moronic. Her sword was drawn, and before I could give a sharp command, she was inside. The werewolf bristled even more but didn’t move. My heartbeat slowed a bit.

Once Lyari was out of the way, I saw that a human girl stood in the shadows. The one I’d summoned, no doubt. Despite the dim, it was easy to see that she was young. Much younger than I wanted to acknowledge, even in my own mind. Probably ten, at the oldest, and that was pushing it. Her skin was covered in grime and her clothes were more tatters than a t-shirt and jeans. Her shoes were gone, and the tips of dirt-covered toes peeked out.

The child kept her gaze fixed on those toes. Every few seconds, a tremor went through her. I couldn’t discern whether it was from terror or cold. Probably both. “Could you bring some meat, please?” I asked, my voice kind.

Her gaze flicked to mine, just for an instant, but it was long enough to see that they were startlingly blue. She got a good look at my face and her own slackened with reverence. It took her a moment to recover, but when she did, the girl nodded and fled. I glanced up and down the passage, but there was no sign of Ilphas. Hopefully that meant he and his mate wouldn’t cause the wolf any more trouble.

“Why are you doing this?” Lyari asked from behind me. She kept her tone flat, cold, but it still bordered on insolence.

I remained where I was, waiting for the girl to return. Without looking at her I answered, “It’s called compassion. You should look it up sometime.”

Lyari didn’t reply. Within minutes, the child was back. She carried a plate in both hands, which was weighed down by a bloody, raw steak. “Perfect, thank you,” I said, taking it. I approached the wolf again. This time it was too focused on what I held to lift its lips or growl.

When I put it down a few feet away, the wolf sprang. Lyari reacted too late, but it had no interest in me; the creature snatched the meat so violently that it upended the plate. It retreated into the corner again and began tearing the steak apart with razor-sharp teeth. Poor thing is more feral than Fallen, I thought, watching with discouragement. The food was an adequate distraction, though—as I knelt to finally examine it for injuries, the werewolf didn’t so much as glance at me. In doing so, I caught a peek of what was between its legs. Yes, definitely male.

Other than its obvious thinness, there weren’t any injuries that I could see. “I wish I knew your name,” I said softly, leaning back on my haunches. “Can you understand me at all? Make some kind of signal, if you can.”

The werewolf didn’t move.

“Do you need anything else, Your Majesty?” the girl asked. Then she blanched, as though she’d said something forbidden. She’d probably been instructed to stay silent.

“Yes. Do you know where my clothes are kept? Not the ones in the backpack. The outfits and dresses I’ve been wearing during the trials and ceremonies.”

The child’s gaze darted to Lyari as though she feared punishment. “In that wardrobe, ma’am.”

“Oh. Well, then. Go in there,” I instructed, feeling dense. The wardrobe had been there since the moment I first stepped into this room—I’d just assumed it only held Collith’s clothes. The girl scurried to obey. “Pick the most sensible pair of shoes you can find, then put them on. My feet are bigger than yours, but you’ll grow into them. If anyone bothers you about it, tell them to talk to me.”

Halfway through my short speech, the girl froze. Her wide eyes looked from me to the wardrobe, as though she didn’t know which she found more treacherous. I knelt there, in front of the feasting werewolf, and waited. Lyari didn’t say a word.

After seven seconds, the girl obeyed. The doors of the wardrobe opened to reveal a very full collection. Jeans, gowns, shirts, sweaters. A pair of shoes for every occasion lined the bottom two shelves. That would’ve been handy to know about, I thought with annoyance. The child pulled out a pair of tennis shoes that had probably never been worn; they had that crisp, white appearance. Holding them uncertainly, she faced me again. I just mustered a smile and nodded.

“They say you hate the fae,” the girl blurted instead of moving to leave. I looked at her and waited for more. She hesitated, glancing at Lyari. Whatever she saw there gave her courage. “Will you destroy them?”

All at once, the fatigue was back. “Not tonight,” I answered on a sigh. “Thanks again for getting the steak.”

She saw it for the dismissal it was. The girl’s mouth clamped shut and she nearly ran out the door, clutching her new shoes. Lyari stood in the middle of the room, sword still drawn, her focus on the werewolf. “I’m going to sleep now,” I told her pointedly. “Will you guard the door until Collith gets back?”

Lyari looked like she wanted to argue. I cocked a brow at her in a wordless challenge. With a mutinous expression, she stormed to the door. Fortuna, two. Lyari, one. I allowed myself a tiny, satisfied smile.

It was probably very, very stupid to lower my guard in the same room as a half-starved werewolf, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. At least it would be a quick death. After an awkward struggle with the dress, I stripped down to my undergarments and climbed into bed. I tugged the covers over me and waited to sleep to come. It didn’t take long. The edges went dark, creating a shrinking circle of light, like the end of an old movie. The last thing I saw was the wolf, curled into a ball, watching me with its glowing eyes.

The instant I slipped from the real world and into ours, Oliver was waiting.

The landscape had changed. Gone were the rolling meadows and open skies. In their place was damp sand and roiling clouds. Dark waves pounded against the shore, making me think of some monster from the deep, grasping at something alive on land.

Oliver was worried.

He sat on the beach, his back to the house and everything else. I plopped down beside him and squinted at the horizon. The sun was halfway consumed by ocean, its orange glow setting the water on fire. “Since I promised not to withhold information, you should know that my body is alone with a possibly rabid werewolf. But I don’t want to talk about it. I also don’t want to talk about my brother, or faeries, or trials. Is that okay?”

I could feel Oliver looking at me. A lump filled my throat, and I knew that if he pressed, I would break. “That’s okay,” he said. His voice was gentle. After a moment, I rested my head on his shoulder. It fit so perfectly. My arm went around his waist, and his went around mine.

That little voice in my head couldn’t remain silent. It will only get harder from here. Release him, it urged. He is a childhood imaginary friend. He is a wistful daydream. He is a sexual fantasy.

I clung to Oliver even harder.

The morning after the bloody coronation, I went in search of my brother.

I was flanked by Lyari and Omar. The werewolf, too, accompanied me, to my surprise and the Guardians’ displeasure. When I had tried to leave without him, he stood on the other side of the door and howled until I let him out. The sound was so loud that dirt trickled down from the ceiling.

Now he matched my pace, keeping so close that I could feel his ribcage brushing against my thigh now and then. He’d let me remove the chain. It was good to see him walk unencumbered by its clunky weight. It felt like I had a deadly, unpredictable pet.

Today I wore the clothes I’d arrived in—I’d had enough of gowns to last me a lifetime. Despite my bland attire, faeries spotted me from afar and abruptly turned around or ducked into other passageways. After so many days feeling weak and small, their fear was heady. I relished it like an addict getting a fix.

At the threshold of Jassin’s rooms, which Lyari had reluctantly led me to, I didn’t let myself hesitate. Hesitation would bring unwanted memories. The door creaked open at my light touch.

I was greeted by the sight of my brother’s delicate-looking spine. He was sitting on the bed, bare-chested, his skin pale as the moon. There was a shirt in his hands; I recognized it as something Jassin had worn.

Though he must’ve heard me enter, felt my presence, Damon said nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to step into the room. “I’m sorry,” I said. It was true; I was sorry for his pain. For the fact that I’d caused it.

Still, Damon didn’t speak. Looking at him, a frail figure sitting on that great, empty bed, it was hard to believe he was in his twenties. In this moment, he looked like the boy who’d written his sister a note and gone out to garden at midnight. I shifted, about to go against my instincts and step over the invisible line that separated us, but at that moment Damon stood.

“This is my vow to you,” he said. His body was angled toward me, but he kept staring down at the shirt as he spoke. His voice and eyes were dull. “For the rest of our lives, I will hate you.”

The response didn’t surprise me, exactly. Still, it felt like someone had buried their hand in my chest. The werewolf growled as if he sensed this. Without thinking, I rested my hand on his back. The rumbling instantly stopped. I steeled myself, but there was no hint of flavors or images from the contact between us. Interesting, I thought, then focused on my brother. “Damon, please, I didn’t want—”

“Just go.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” I countered, willing my heart to harden. I had a sense of time running out and that left no room for hurt feelings. “Hate me all you want, but we’re leaving the Unseelie Court, Damon. So start packing. If you won’t listen to me, then take it as an order from your queen. I’ll be back in an hour. Be ready or the Guardians will remove you by force. Got it?”

Silence filled the room. I turned to leave. “Wait,” Damon said.

Hope was a cruel thing. Though I knew his mind was on Jassin, I still halted, yearning to hear words of forgiveness. “What?”

“Jassin.” Damon said his name like a prayer. “What was he afraid of?”

For a few seconds, I debated whether or not to answer. There was no way of knowing if it would cause him more grief or bring some kind of healing. I could also feel Lyari and Omar listening; everything we said here would probably be public knowledge at the end of the day.

But I didn’t have the strength to resist giving Damon what he wanted. “God. He was afraid of God,” I said finally.

He said nothing as he absorbed this. I bit my tongue to hold back disparaging comments about the faerie he’d loved. Then, intending to spend the next hour writing letters—even if I couldn’t stay with Damon once we got home, I had to do something to ease Bea, Gretchen, and Cyrus’s worry—I headed back to Collith’s rooms. Lyari and Omar took their positions, giving the werewolf a wide berth.

Upon our arrival, I saw that someone was waiting for me in the passageway. The male turned. I was surprised when the firelight touched Laurie’s face; for some reason, I’d been expecting Collith, who had been mysteriously absent since my coronation. The faerie’s expression was wary; he was waiting for me to ask questions. My epiphany in the throne room floated between us like an apparition. They can’t see you, can they?

In all likelihood, the guards already thought I was insane. Most of them had seen me talking to myself at one time or another, since Laurie was hidden from their sight. Even so, I waited until we were inside and the door was shut before speaking. “I never thanked you,” I said, going against every lesson Mom had taught me about the fae.

Laurie blinked. For once, I’d managed to startle him. He thought I would interrogate him straightaway. “Thank me? Why?” he asked.

“For being my friend.”

At this, the faerie hesitated. “Fortuna, I—”

His words cut short when I hugged him. He hesitated. Slowly, his arms went around me, too. His chin brushed my temple, and it was the first time we’d truly touched. Just as it had been with Collith, the brush of his skin revealed no fears. But power lurked there, such bright, crackling vitality that it made my teeth hurt. Power a lesser faerie shouldn’t have had. I pulled back.

“What are you?” I demanded now, keeping my voice low.

He smiled faintly and pulled away. “Too dangerous. Nothing said in the Court of Shadows goes unheard, remember?”

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me. But I still need your help, Laurie.”

“So does he,” my friend replied. The words were said so quietly, I almost didn’t hear them. Before I could say anything else, Laurie was gone. Son of a bitch, I fumed silently. Guess I had finally learned who he was loyal to. Now what?

My mind was already flipping through other possibilities. I saw the face of every faerie I’d met since coming to the Unseelie Court. Their voices sounded like a podcast playing in my truck. Tarragon, maybe? He’d been impressed by the tribunal …

My progress screeched to a halt when I reached a certain memory. There was someone else who’d been willing to help me, once.

At the thought of going to see her, though, I hesitated. There was a chance it was entirely unnecessary to seek answers. For all I knew, the fae would let me leave Court without any interference. Call it a precaution, then. What if I didn’t get a second opportunity to free Damon? What if they hid him from me out of spite? What if one of them kidnapped him to gain control over the new queen? After the third trial, every faerie alive knew my vulnerability. I was still playing the game, and it never hurt to have a backup plan.

Once again, I left Collith’s rooms with resolve. Lyari was at her post, of course. She stared straight ahead, somehow managing to emanate resentment without an expression. “Lead me to the dungeons, please,” I said. A frown tugged at the corners of her perfect mouth, but she complied without question.

It was a longer excursion than the ones to the throne room, Jassin’s chambers, or the Leviathan’s watery grave. We wound through unfamiliar tunnels for at least a half hour. I was on the verge of asking how much farther when Lyari abruptly turned and vanished. Alarmed, I hurried after her, then realized she’d just gone down a set of stairs dug into the earth. Moans and sobs drifted to my ears. I really, really didn’t want to see where they came from. Omar hovered nearby. I half-wished he would say something comforting. But he wasn’t a friend; those were few and far between in this place.

The thought was just the push I needed. I allowed myself a short, fortifying breath, and plunged into the murky underbelly of the Unseelie Court. The stairs felt endless. I was not gifted with being able to see in the dark, so I touched the walls on either side, fumbling with every step. They had not been carved the same height or length.

Lyari waited at the bottom, holding a torch aloft. Why didn’t you give that to me before I started coming down the staircase from hell? I wanted to snarl. Fortuna, two. Lyari, two. I still had no idea why I’d assigned her as my guard instead of taking satisfying, swift vengeance.

Already, the smell of this place was getting to me. I just had to close my eyes and I was back in that cage. So much dampness, pain, and filth. Walking past the cells made my skin crawl. I couldn’t remember which one the guards had thrown me in—I hadn’t exactly been at my best. “Are you there?” I ventured, staring into the darkness of each reeking hole.

“So it’s true. You survived the trials. I thought the guard was lying for sport,” a voice rasped. It came from farther down the row.

Had I survived? It felt like part of me had died. I stopped in front of the cell and glanced at the guards, more aware of their presence than ever. “Lyari, Omar, please make sure we don’t have an audience. Yes, it’s true. The bloodlines already paid fealty.”

“I would advise against speaking to this one alone, Your Majesty,” Lyari said stiffly.

The looming sense of urgency almost made me snap. It occurred to me, though, that I may want to refrain from pissing off the faeries guarding me. “I appreciate your concern. Really. But this is something I have to do. Please,” I added. No one could miss the sincerity in my voice. Lyari bit back a scowl, bowed, and made a sharp gesture at Omar. The two of them left.

The faerie in the cell waited until the sound of their footsteps retreated. “That’s quite the entourage you have there,” she observed. Her voice was a little stronger. “I haven’t seen a werewolf in years. Forgive me for missing your coronation, Your Majesty. As you can see, I was otherwise detained. What brings you back to my humble home?”

Hoping to draw her out, I wrapped my fingers around the rusted bars. Collith’s would-be assassin remained in the shadows. “I wanted to speak to the faerie who told me the truth, even when she had nothing to gain,” I remarked. Her words from that day came back without any effort, as though they’d been branded on my brain. Oh, you poor, stupid creature. Of course we can. We lie about everything. That rumor was established millennia ago. Some clever faerie thought it would be advantageous if the rest of the world thought we could be trusted.

There was a long silence. “This is about Collith.”

The familiarity with which she spoke his name caused an odd twinge of jealousy. “In part,” I acknowledged. “I only put myself through those trials to get my brother back. Now that he’s free from Jassin, he can go home. Someone is always watching or listening, though. I need an advantage … no, maybe ‘insurance’ is a better word. I don’t want anyone to stop us, or bring Damon back, or whatever else the fae have up their sleeves. So I guess I’m asking for information. I’d hoped you knew a way to stop any of it from happening.”

“Why should I help you?” she asked.

I had expected this part. Unease still fluttered in my stomach. “I’ll be in your debt. A boon from the Queen of the Unseelie Court must be worth something.”

After another pause, there came a shuffling sound. The werewolf next to me went rigid and growled a warning. I dared to touch him again, but he wasn’t comforted this time. His yellow eyes remained fastened on whatever he saw in the cell. Foreboding squeezed my throat, making it difficult to breathe, and I followed his gaze.

A beautiful corpse stepped into the light. When I saw her face, my heart picked up speed.

Collith’s old lover.

What was her name … Viessa. Yes, that was it. She was nothing like the vibrant creature from Collith’s memories. What could have possibly happened to her? Wait, he’d said something about this. I put myself back there, in his bed, next to that guttering candle. Some faeries have a … specialty. A certain power or ability unique from others. Usually the ability manifests during puberty, but in rare cases, it can arise through trauma.

Clearly it had been the latter for Viessa. Her red hair was frozen in place. A fine shimmer of frost coated part of her face. Her irises were the brightest, most unnatural blue I’d ever seen. Ice clung to her lashes. Looking at her, I had a single thought.

She would’ve made an excellent queen.

Part of her mouth tilted up in a wry smile. Ignoring my obvious shock, Viessa gripped the bars with frost-blackened fingers. My feet itched to step back. “You could seek the Seelie King for assistance,” she suggested. “The Court of Light is no less corrupt than this one, but their ruler is rumored to have a soft spot for pretty things. And he has a history with Collith; he might jump at the opportunity to humiliate or work against his court.”

If she touched my hands, would that horrible ice spread to me? I strove to sound normal as I replied, “And how do I find the Seelie King?”

“You could try calling for him.” She lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “His name is Laurelis.”

My instincts stirred. “Laurelis …”

“Yes.” Viessa must’ve noticed my strange reaction, because she went on. “He does go by another; perhaps that’s why you’re confused. His mother’s nickname for him, while she was still alive. Only his closest friends are permitted to use it.”

“What is the name?” I asked, though I already knew the answer before the words completely left my mouth.

Viessa’s eyes glittered. “Some call him Laurie.”

END OF BOOK ONE