CHAPTER THIRTY

'Ugh, you two are so cute it's sickening,' Ciara announces as she starts coffee. The fire is still lit and the morning sun just begins its journey along the edges of the floor. I smile into Lochlain's chest.

'Don't you dare let me find any miscellaneous items of clothing down here, Lochlain.'

She ducks as he throws a cushion over the island bench, laughing quietly. But I don't miss the flicker of deep concern in her expression she tries to cover.

'Good morning,' I mumble, turning back against his chest.

He lifts my chin to look at him and I uncurl my spine. His hair has an effortlessly tousled look, despite sleeping on the floor, his curls mostly intact. His eyes are sleepy and he peers down at me through his dark lashes.

'Good morning to you, too,' he smiles, his perfect mouth pulled wide across his straight, white teeth. Teeth that nipped at my—

'Do you think Ciara would let us stay here all day?' he asks.

'You know full well that's my preference,' she says from the kitchen. 'But we have a Queendom to start taking back today.'

Reality crashes around me.

He places a soft kiss on my nose. 'We'll be okay, Lish.'

The flood of warmth that radiates from my chest in response to his tenderness is completely at odds with the sickness spinning through my centre. I close my eyes.

Please don't die, I beg silently.

I drag myself from the rug. I've spent all night thinking of how to get out of this, but I haven't been able to find a single way around any of the rules of the challenge. I've been over them enough times with Rory to know them by heart. But the only option seems to be finding an opportunity to kill the General before Lochlain has to challenge him. If I can find one, I will take it.

Collecting the others on our way, we walk into town with our hoods thrown back. It's freeing to see the city without it, to show my face. Knowing it is to see Siosal again creates a knot of tension in my stomach. But, around the tightly wound concern, I'm absorbed by the capital of the Court of Airlie, the capital of my Court.

The city gets tighter the closer we move towards the palace where it sits to the north of the city centre.

'How is this real?' Blaire whispers, her eyes sparkling with wonder. 'Those streetlights,' she says, 'aren't even attached to anything.'

I glance at the lanterns that aren't currently emitting any light and smile.

Calahi spill out of cafes and restaurants, sharing meals or drinks on the intricate tables that cover the walkways along the edge of the road we walk on. The deep, green vines that run along the roofline drop down in places as if they reach to caress the Calahi underneath. Large timber and metal signs hover high above the tables, marking the names of the different places. Some of them are words I can make out, others seem to be a collection of symbols or pictures.

To their credit, not one of my friends falters as they get an open view of Elenlea for the first time. My own time here has been unfairly limited, too afraid of Siosal to venture far. Apart from the night I tried to write myself off of course. I wonder what that Calahi will think if he were to find out I am supposed to be their Queen.

Children race down the cobbled stone road beside us, bumping into Lochlain on my left. One of them stops in front of him, halting our progress.

'It's you,' the little girl says. Young one, I think as I recall Aeyva's words from last night.

Lochlain glances behind us where I know Rory and Aeyva bring up the rear of our group before he drops to a crouch.

'It's me.' He smiles. 'Who are you?'

She blushes furiously as she gapes at him and an older Calahi approaches, placing a hand on her shoulder. The pale jacket he wears is cut closely to his body, showing the leanness of his form, a large black belt holding up his bright green pants.

'Sorry, sir,' he says.

'No apology necessary,' Lochlain says as he stands. He smiles down at the little girl, who's now twirling her plait in her hand.

The other Calahi gives him a long look before running his gaze across our group. 'Does this mean you are making your challenge?' he asks quietly.

I freeze but Lochlain just nods, the back of his hand brushing mine.

The male grips his shoulder. 'That is the best news I've heard in a long time,' he says quietly. He glances around the street briefly, where I notice a large number of Calahi pausing their meals and conversations to watch us.

'We're all behind you,' he says, pressing the heel of his hand to his chest.

'Oh my god,' Riley breathes behind me and I look back to the Calahi around us.

All of whom stand.

Their hands pressed to their chests in silence as they look at Lochlain.

The large black and gold fences of the palace are open today, as Ciara said they would be, allowing the noble families and other citizens of Airlie access to the Custodian's regular open courts. Some of them participate in the discussions of the day or line up to petition the Custodian. Many just gather for a day on the palace grounds.

Guards in forest green, the colour of Airlie, are stationed at the entrance, eyes roving the growing numbers of Calahi and their guests. Flicking between faces and weapons, checking for medallions. The wide gravel path ends in a circular shape, studded with a large water fountain. We join the throng of Calahi at the base of sweeping, stone stairs.

I walk with my arm linked in Ciara's, our heads together as if in gossipy conversation. We move forward to keep Lochlain subtly behind us, Aeyva at his side and Rory and the Rhyton team fanning out behind them, watching our flanks. We never heard from Nuala, so my team are his only additional support.

'I used to love coming here,' Ciara says, 'before my father died.'

Killed here, she means. In a challenge just like the one Lochlain is about to make. After everything, him not surviving is not an option I can entertain.

As I take in the elaborate dresses and suits of the Calahi making their way to the entrance of the palace, it's hard to imagine it as a place that holds anything but joy. The palace itself looks to only be three storeys tall, lower than I had expected, but it's long and curves back on itself. From what I understand, there are spectacular gardens on the other side cocooned by the building; but I doubt we'll see those today. Wrapped around the second and third stories are long balconies, divided in sections that don't appear to follow a pattern. A number of Calahi, probably from the more prominent families, watch the rest of the citizens arrive beneath them.

The burning starts as a slight irritation across my chest and the edges of my vision bleed purple as we walk up the steps and into the grand entrance of the palace. My heart hammers in recognition. My body recalling the magic he's used on me before.

Siosal.

'He's here,' I whisper. Ciara's grip on my arm tightens.

I can only hope he is as oblivious of my proximity as Lochlain was to my emotions. But I know and my whole being screams to get away.

A white, marble floor extends throughout the vast entrance and several large, gold doors with intricate engravings punctuate the walls. Two sets of these are open to a cavernous room I can just make out through the crowd. The ceiling above me is painted in a detailed mural I don't have time to take in as we are bustled towards the open doors. More guards in their forest green uniforms monitor this entrance and direct the crowd either to the spectator ring that runs around the outside of the circular room, or the line of petitioners.

I look back to give Lochlain a last encouraging look before he joins the queue, but he's already gone. Ciara and I make our way into the crowd on the right and find a spot we can watch Lochlain and Aeyva. As his formally bonded partner, it is appropriate she be with him in this space. For the first time since I found out about their bonding, I find myself totally at peace with their relationship. Rory finds us and whispers to Ciara who heads in the direction of Hayes.

'What are you doing?' I ask. 'I was supposed to be with Ciara.'

The Calahi around us talk in hushed tones as a sign of respect for the Throne I can't see. Rory stands close enough for me to feel his outline against my side. He leans down slightly.

'I promised Loch I wouldn't leave you alone, so you get me, sweetheart.' He winks.

'What about Aeyva?'

He looks at me.

'Aeyva can handle herself,' he says looking back to the centre of the room.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak as a wave of nausea grips me. My breathing labours and I press slightly into Rory to steady myself. The voice in my head still screaming at me to run as far from here as I can.

'I won't leave you, Lish. You're okay.' He pauses. 'He will be too,' he adds quietly.

'How can you know that?'

He doesn't answer.

I look around but I can't see the rest of our group from here as the crowd packs in tighter. Enormous, beautiful tapestries line the walls and portray a range of different scenes from winged warriors in bloody battles to family portraits. There are a number of crowned people amongst the images and it dawns on me these are stories of each reign. The breath leaves me as I realise my mother's image will be here.

Rory moves us forward a little, Calahi and their guests glaring at us as we push past, but at least now I can make out the raised platform where a handful of decorative chairs sit. The largest of which is obviously the Throne. It's a complicated design of twisted gold and is flanked by smaller, duller looking chairs.

A man strides into the room, stepping up onto the platform in long, black boots. Slim navy pants are covered by a thigh-length black jacket, belted at the waist with a wide, white leather strap. Decorative gold pads cover each shoulder and medals grace his chest, a white gloved hand holds a hat under his arm as he takes a seat on the right, furthest from the Throne. He adjusts the collar of his uniform and a jolt runs through me as I study the chiselled face that's partially hidden by a manicured goatee. He's not Calahi.

I know him.

'Is he always here?' I whisper to Rory.

Before he can respond the shadow of burning in my chest increases so strongly I place a hand on my skin to check it's still healed. And then I see him. The pale man with snow white hair and dark eyebrows. He walks slowly to the platform, savouring the faces that strain to see him. His suit is a pale grey, with purple gems set into the collar of the knee-length jacket. Gradually, he takes a seat in one of the chairs on the throne's left, the closest side to Rory and me.

From here I can see his mauve eyes roaming the room. They move in our direction and I duck my head closer to Rory's chest, my breathing heavy. As well as the pressure of his body against my side, Rory places his hand on my back, as if he knows I need the contact to remain present. I look to Lochlain near the back of the line, Aeyva still with him.

His stature clearly defines him as a soldier, but he is also finely dressed in close fitted black pants and shirt, with a dark blue sash across his left shoulder and pinned at his right hip with a copper pin. His freshly washed hair has now dried and there are more than a few Calahi clearly discussing him.

'The Custodian approaches,' a voice sounds and the Calahi around me bow and curtsy.

I follow their lead and wait to rise until others around me do. Moving my head slightly, I can see the Custodian step up onto the platform. He's an attractive man, older than Siosal, I think, with black, wavy hair brushed back from his face and a long, black cloak. Its gold embroidery catches the light as he moves. He surveys the crowd with a kind smile. Approaching the gold throne, he places a glass box on its seat before he takes the one immediately to the right.

'Begin,' he commands.

Behind the glass is an object, the details of which I can't quite make out. But its shape is that of a crown. I drag my eyes away. Those in the line make their way forward, stopping a polite distance from the platform that is now lined with guards in forest green – a physical barrier between those on the platform and the crowd.

The other chairs remain empty. The petitions from the Calahi of Airlie vary, from transport upgrades to accommodation maintenance issues or they simply bring gifts that are placed on the floor before the Guards. Those with questions or suggestions for city improvements are generally referred to others within the Court. The names of whom I try to hold but start to tangle in my mind.

Time drags and my feet start to ache. The Calahi around us fidget and I hear Lochlain's name whispered more than once. The constant burning in my chest is distracting and several times I have to blink to clear the purple fog in my vision. Rory doesn't seem affected. Lochlain is now third in line. I look back to the platform where General Siosal is waiting. He smiles at me. My throat constricts and I can't look away. I grip Rory instead and he moves subtly into my line of sight.

'That was going to happen sooner or later, stay focused and breathe. Loch's nearly up,' he says.

The reality is suddenly too much. Lochlain is going to die and I can't be part of this. I can't lose him. This Court isn't worth his life, not to me. I twist to Rory, gripping his arm. My vision wavers in purple mist and my gut turns.

'We need to stop this, Rory, Siosal is never going to let him live,' I whisper but the sound is washed away by multiple gasps.

It's Lochlain's turn and the Calahi have realised what he is here to do.

Lochlain and Aeyva step up towards the platform and both bow to the Custodian, who cocks his head.

'To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Lochlain?' he asks.

The sound of his name from the Custodian shocks me. But of course he knows him, as the son of the former General. The Calahi who should be in the role now. Lochlain looks only at the Custodian.

'Your Grace,' Lochlain says, his voice completely even. 'I wish to declare a challenge for the role of General. And along with it, the Wolverton Pendant,' he says.

No.

Rory places his fingers over mine where they've stayed clenched on his arm.

A murmur runs through the room and the Custodian holds up his hand for silence. General Siosal watches Lochlain with a small smile.

'And do you have the required numbers of support?' asks the Custodian.

'I do,' replies Lochlain.

'You may present them to me.'

Rory helps me forward as the others make their way through the crowd as well. As we come into view, he removes his hand from my back and I walk alone. General Siosal's eyes follow me to where I stand a step back and to the side of Lochlain. His smile widens as they drop down to my chest and find the medallion we decided I would wear. Not wanting to draw attention to the human – half-human – who can be in the Realm without guest status. Not wishing to declare who I am. Holding his gaze, I lift my chin. Lochlain catches the motion and bristles. But the General knows, there is no longer any point in attempting to hide from him.

Siosal smiles at us like he's greeting old friends. I think the uniformed man narrows his eyes at us slightly, but I don't break my stare with the General to check.

'I see you have some supporters from outside the Realm,' the Custodian says. 'Interesting.'

The uniformed man shifts in his seat.

'I do, Your Grace,' Lochlain replies.

'Well, General Siosal. A challenge has been declared and supported. It is now over to you to defend your title,' the Custodian says without looking at him. Siosal stands slowly and bows to the Custodian.

'So it has, Your Grace, so it has,' he says, still smiling. 'I see, Lochlain,' the name dripping with distaste, 'that you have brought a friend of mine with you.'

I send a wave of stillness to Lochlain but I don't know if it has any impact.

Siosal looks at me. 'I do so look forward to ending this challenge in her presence.'

I watch mutely as Lochlain hands Aeyva his sash and pin. She hands him his sword in return. I hope he's wearing his knives under his shirt as well but I can't be sure, I didn't get a chance to talk to him alone this morning once we left the living room. The things I haven't been able to say or do pressing on my chest.

On the platform, General Siosal makes a show of removing his long jacket and hanging it over the back of the silver chair so the gems are still visible. A sword already hangs at his hip and he gives an almost imperceptible nod to the side of the platform. Rory and I, along with the others, melt away back into the crowd. A ring of red sand is poured in a large circle around Lochlain and Siosal.

The Custodian stands and addresses the masses. 'No one is to enter or leave the ring until the challenge has been completed. Anyone who offers outside assistance faces execution for interfering in Crown matters. Either of you may submit at any time. Weapons and magic are each permitted. Begin,' he says.

Silence is thick in my ears.

Lochlain and General Siosal spend several long moments circling each other. The General talks quietly to Lochlain but I can't hear what he's saying. He's clearly trying to agitate Lochlain and the set of Lochlain's jaw worries me it's working. Eventually, it's Lochlain who moves first, and the two men parry with their swords, the sound of metal clanging around the quiet room. Every now and then someone lets out a gasp but, so far, the challenge is more of an exhibition of swordplay than a fight to the death. I knew Siosal was powerful when I first met him. But to see how he moves in action is something else. He's a good match for Lochlain but neither has yet made a bold move. I realise I don't know Lochlain's strategy. Whether he will tire Siosal and hope he submits, or take him by surprise with the killing blow. The uncertainty pulses in my cheek.

The edge of my vision bleeds purple as Siosal makes an attack on Lochlain, driving him backwards. My heart lurches as he drops Lochlain to one knee and kicks the sword from his hand. Rory grips my arm as I move to go to Lochlain.

My chest kicks in response. This is too fast. Lochlain should never have been brought down so easily.

Lochlain rolls towards his sword and drives it up to block the General's next blow. A blow delivered with such force it could have cleaved him in two. General Siosal pushes his sword with both hands down onto Lochlain's and I understand.

Where the swords meet, the air hisses. The General is shoving his burning magic down his sword and into Lochlain. Who, despite the burning he must feel, refuses to give.

Rory stiffens.

'What is it?' I whisper.

'He's stronger than he should be, his magic … something's wrong,' he says. The colour drains from his face.

The more magic I can sense from the General, the more my vision wavers until a purple veil covers my eyes. Through the haze I make out dark figures moving amongst the crowd and Rory tenses beside me. Siosal drops his left hand from his sword and holds it out towards Lochlain's throat, the sword held lightly in his other hand. Lochlain inhales sharply, the clatter as his sword drops against the marble is tinny and the only sound in the horrified room. He clutches his throat as he's hoisted into the air like a puppet.

I know then, beyond any doubt.

Siosal will bleed every last drop from Lochlain.

Beside me, Rory is muttering to himself, I think he might be praying. The dark shadows continue to weave through the crowd. Whispers. Around me, the Calahi of Airlie seem to hold their collective breath. A female voice curses. The General's sword joins Lochlain's on the floor as he takes in Lochlain and throws his head back in a laugh. He makes a slicing motion with his right hand and Lochlain's groan reverberates against my skin.

'Oh, Mother,' Rory whispers and, this time, I have to restrain him.

It takes me a moment to see what he sees – the wetness soaking through the front of Lochlain's shirt. The General has attempted to gut him. The world empties around me, only Rory's arms hold me upright as we grip each other. Through the purple veil General Siosal turns to find me.

'For you, Alice,' he laughs, releasing Lochlain to fall heavily to the floor, his blood pooling on the white marble.

I will not panic, I tell myself. Think.

Think.

I can do this. I've healed him before. I took what I knew from that tiny blue bird and channelled it into him. I've made flowers bloom from nothing.

My mother tried to teach me about borrowing power, but I don't know how to do that. Or how it will help me now.

So I focus on what I do know – how I feel. How he feels against my skin. And I imagine I can hold that feeling in my hands and turn it into something else. Into healing.

'Rory, brace me,' I say standing in front of him.

He obeys and presses into me from behind, holding my elbows. I close my eyes and plummet deep inside myself searching for my flame. I shape it to the sapphire thread I first found all that time ago with the small bird. The one I found again in the wood when I'd healed Lochlain. It's tiny when I find it and I slowly coax it up, up, up.

Please help me, I beg of it. Help him.

In my mind's eye, I see the thread thickening and growing, pulsing with a light fuelled by my fragile gold flame. In the same way I have sent emotions to Phoenix and Nico, I send this light to Lochlain. The dark figures of the Whispers remain in the purple mist. Even though I think I still have my eyes closed, I can feel them weaving through the crowd.

'Rory, they're coming for the others,' I say. Opening my eyes, I focus on Lochlain, collapsed in a heap on the floor.

'I see them,' he says quietly.

He hesitates behind me for a moment, but I can't break my focus on Lochlain, even as my heart threatens to stop beating. I can feel him now and I send the light through and around his body, willing it to heal him. Save him. I'm jostled from behind, someone else taking Rory's place.

'I'm here,' Will whispers and my heart swells in my chest.

The blue threads become a malleable substance I bend to my command, and I send some of it down and around Will and I to ward off any black figures. I will gladly die to save Lochlain but I won't allow any harm to come to Will in the process.

Lochlain doesn't move and I push harder, pressing against Will to hold me upright, not trusting myself to have the strength to stand on my own. I let it flow out of me and into Lochlain. It's a steady stream now and as it gets stronger, my vision darkens. I embrace it. Copper that moves like liquid brushes against my blue stream sending a shiver down my spine. It calls to me and I immediately recognise the feel of it as Lochlain. His magic.

You need to get up Lochlain. Get up, I will him.

The General collects his sword and drags it behind him as he circles Lochlain, the sound of its edge on the marble sending nails down my back. The audience is deathly quiet, waiting for the final blow.

'You didn't really think you would win this challenge, did you?' The General talks loudly enough for all to hear now. 'I defeated your father, remember,' he says. 'The one who was supposed to be the greatest General in our history. And you are no match for him.'

Someone starts to cry quietly behind me. Siosal stalks around Lochlain's blood and nudges him with a boot. Lochlain doesn't move. Pressure builds in my head and I lean harder into Will. The General stops his circling of Lochlain and finds my eyes. He smiles at me as the pressure in my skull threatens to split it in two.

'Hello, Alice,' he says. His mouth doesn't move but his voice is in my ears, in my head. 'I'm sorry it's come to this.' His eyes find mine. 'He shouldn't have challenged me. I'm stronger than he knows, and I won't give up my position as General. Unless it is to be King.'

Blue and copper threads dance around me, and I drive them at Lochlain begging him to take them. Use them. I hold the General's gaze.

'Come and meet me, Alice.' His voice is soft. 'Stop hiding behind him. You know you have no choice but to give me what I am due. Your mother shirked her obligations. That is her fault, not mine. And it leaves you to fulfill them.'

Sweat snakes down my torso.

'Lochlain has been defeated. You know he will die here. But you and I, Alice, we will survive. We are survivors, and I can help you make this Realm all it is supposed to be. You just need to make the right choice,' he says.

Sapphire and copper wavers around me at his transfixing voice in my mind. Will is talking to me from far away but I can't make out what he's saying. Lochlain's face swims before me, his copper and black eyes peeking out from under his dark curls. The chocolate freckles that got me into a little more strife than I'd intended. And the mouth I tried to block from my mind.

'Enter the ring, Alice, come to me.'

Moving, pulled by a force I can't name, I step across the sand.