by Bekah Harris
Ivy couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up her throat. Shaking her head at her mother, who always looked for an excuse to organize a formal event, she searched the sea of dancing Fae for her best friend. Jules stuck out like a black sheep among the Winter Fae clad in shimmering gowns. Dressed in a corseted gown of deep purple, Jules was in the midst of exchanging a smoldering look with King Padraic as they spun across the dance floor. Ivy smiled. She had never seen Jules so happy.
“Half the Seelie courts are foaming at the mouth over Padraic’s choice of a human consort,” Lyric commented, “but I have to admit, they look amazing together. It’s a wise choice on his part, both politically and romantically.”
“How so?” Ivy asked.
She certainly didn’t begrudge Padraic or Jules their preferences, but Ivy had worried more than once how the Fae in both realms would react to a queen without royal bloodlines, let alone a human.
“The Unseelies are rebels,” she said. “So far, Padraic has appealed to that spirit of rebellion. He helped to overthrow his own father over his obsession with Alena. When Alena rose to power, he sided with you. And now, he has chosen a human consort. Juliet is an outsider. The more offended the Seelie Courts are that a Fae king would choose a human over one of their own, the more appealing she is to the Unseelie Fae.”
Ivy shrugged. “That makes sense, I guess.”
Ivy hoped the Unseelie Fae would love Jules, but more importantly, she hoped Jules would love the Unseelie Realm as much as she loved Padraic.
“You have been unusually quiet on the subject of Juliet’s impending betrothal.”
Ivy swallowed, smoothing the skirt of her dress. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up,” she whispered.
Lyric smiled, taking her hand. “Oh, my sweet daughter. You have lost so much for the sake of your people. I hope you won’t have to lose Juliet, as well.”
The very thought of saying goodbye to Jules stole her breath. What would she do without her?
“I am so very proud of you,” Lyric added. “You reclaimed your kingdom, won the hearts of your people, and united Winter with Unseelie—something no Fae royal has accomplished in so short a time.”
Lyric squeezed her hand. “Speaking of which, your Unseelie Prince is approaching.”
Her mother stepped aside as Ardan ascended the stairs to the royal platform. As he studied her from dainty shoes to pointy crown, his eyes transformed from fathomless onyx to liquid gold. Heat rose to her cheeks, which curled his lips into a smile. He gave her a rare glimpse of his sharp teeth, which made her blush even deeper as she recalled the way those teeth had nipped at her bare skin only an hour before.
“Oh, to possess the power to read minds,” Ardan said. “What I wouldn’t give to know what scandalous thoughts are racing through that beautiful brain of yours.”
Holding her eyes for a moment, he turned her hand over and kissed the sensitive skin of her wrist. “I’m almost positive this is the first graduation revel in the history of the Faerie Realm. How long do these parties generally last?”
Ivy shrugged, admiring the elvish slants of his face, the full curve of his bottom lip. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”
He narrowed his eyes, which glinted wickedly in the light. “Oh, there are a few places I’d rather be right now, one in particular.”
“Oh? Anywhere I’ve heard of?” Ivy flirted. “Perhaps somewhere a little less…public?”
“Don’t tease me,” Ardan said. “It’s unkind.”
Ivy leaned close to his ear, whispering. “Apologies, but I was just thinking it is you who has been teasing me.”
Ardan laughed, the sound of it a low rumble in his chest. “Oh, my naughty little princess.”
Ivy stood on her tiptoes, nipping Ardan’s bottom lip. Before he could respond, her mother was interrupting them again.
“It’s time for the presentation of gifts,” Lyric said.
Ivy cast Ardan an apologetic look. He sighed and passed her off to her mother. Jules looked just as reluctant to leave Padraic, but at Lyric’s command, she, too, ascended the stairs to take her place beside Ivy.
“The first gift of the evening,” Lyric said, “is one I wish to bestow upon Juliet McKinnon, the bravest human I have ever met and the best friend I could wish for my daughter to have.”
The crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause as Lyric slipped the small box into Jules’ hand.
“What is it?” she whispered, as if afraid to open it.
“Just open it,” Ivy said with a laugh.
Shrugging, Jules removed the silver ribbon and opened the top of the box to reveal a large bronze skeleton key adorned with sapphires. Ivy turned, lifting the key, which hung on a beautiful bronze chain, and slipped it over Jules’ head.
“This key will lock or unlock any door in the Winter Court,” Lyric said. “Please accept this gift as a token of my appreciation and a symbol of my gratitude for your loyalty to this court and to my daughter.”
To Ivy’s astonishment, a tear slipped from Jules’ eye and ran down her cheek. Laughing, Ivy pulled Jules in for a hug, squeezing her as if she might never see her again. “I love you more than love itself,” she whispered.
“I love you more than rain in the gray clouds,” Jules whispered back.
“The next gift,” Lyric said, “is for my daughter. May she wear it proudly.”
Bartley, the head Brownie, carried a plush blue pillow. Settled in the middle was Lyric’s crown and scepter.
Ivy gasped. Her mother wasn’t abdicating for another month. She couldn’t believe she was passing on her crown and scepter tonight. Her eyes stung with tears as she looked up at Lyric. Her mother smiled down at her as she lifted the crown from the pillow and settled it on Ivy’s head. Then, Lyric extended the scepter to her. Swallowing the nerves that squirmed up her throat, Ivy grasped the icy shaft, the entire crystalline rod illuminating with blue Winter magic.
“In only a few months time, Princess Ivy has transitioned from her life among humans to become the future Queen of Winter. In that time, she has fought fiercely for the Fae of this court, as well as those in the entire Faerie Realm. She fearlessly marched on the Summer Court when my life was at stake, delivered her most trusted guard from the clutches of my sister, and faced down our Realm’s oldest enemy to deliver me from the jaws of death. When I leave my throne behind, I know I will be leaving it in capable hands.”
Then, she took a new glass from the tray Madra offered and raised it. “To Ivy, Thorn Princess and future queen of Winter.”
Fae across the room raised their glasses, and in unison, repeated, “To Ivy.”
Ivy took a deep breath, trying to keep the color from spreading to her cheeks from the magnitude of the compliment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ardan smiling at her—no, beaming. Her heart fluttered with the intensity of his gaze, torn between shameless lust and overwhelming joy. As Lyric turned away, Ardan offered his hand in a silent invitation to dance. Just as Ivy was about to accept it, a voice echoed from the back of the room.
“There is one more gift, Your Majesty.”
Ivy looked to Lyric. Gaging by her expression, her mother hadn’t been expecting anymore gifts.
“Who speaks?” Lyric demanded. “Come forward at once.”
Ardan moved soundlessly beside Ivy, who, alongside Jules, stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck in an effort to see this unexpected visitor. As the crowd parted, a lone Red Cap made his way across the floor, hobbling toward the stairs.
“That’s far enough.” Lochlan moved from his position by the steps to stop the creature, which was wearing a red bow tie to match its signature red hat. “Who sent you?”
The Red Cap looked up at Lochlan’s face and smiled, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth. “Milady has commanded I bestow a gift to Princess Ivy.”
“And who is your lady?” Lyric commanded.
The Red Cap smiled, it’s red eyes sparking in the light. “I serve the dark temptress of the Uns
eelie Caverns,” he replied. “You cannot refuse a gift.”
Ivy exchanged a look with Jules and Ardan before meeting her mother’s eyes. If her mother was afraid, she gave no indication.
“Bring it forth, then, and begone,” Lyric said.
Ivy’s heart pounded as Lochlan stepped aside to allow the Red Cap to pass. Ardan squeezed her hand as the creature crept closer, grunting as it climbed the stairs. Thankfully, it stopped at a comfortable distance, reached into its jacket, and pulled out a small black box, the kind that would hold jewelry or some small memento. He extended his arm, it’s talon-like fingernails caked with dried blood.
Fighting off a shiver, Ivy dipped her head and accepted the box. The creature clasped its hands and watched in delight, as Ivy cautiously opened the lid. Inside, pinned against a backdrop of red satin, was a black butterfly, still twitching against the pins with its dying breaths. No sooner had she taken in the poor butterfly, than Ardan slapped the box out of her hand. It snapped shut and bounced down the stairs.
Before Ivy could register what was happening, the Red Cap dissolved into a fit of sinister laughter. In a single movement so quick that Ivy barely saw him move, Ardan jabbed forward, stabbing the creature in the throat, its laughter turning to gurgles as air mixed with blood. Clasping its throat, it fell to the floor with a loud thud, as gasps echoed throughout the room.
As Ivy turned toward Ardan, Jules gripped her hand. “Ardan, what just happened?”
But when she saw the horrified gazes of the Winter Fae in the ballroom, she knew there was more to the gift than she realized. Ivy turned toward her mother. Lyric’s eyes were wide, and she was staring fearfully at Lochlan, her hand covering her mouth.
“Ivy, what’s going on?” Jules whispered.
Then, Padraic was beside them, ushering them both from the ballroom.
When they were out in the hall, Ivy pushed away from Padraic and turned on him.
“Tell me what is going on right now,” she demanded.
“The black butterfly,” Padraic said. “It’s an omen of death in our world.”
“What my brother means,” Ardan said, coming up behind them, “is that someone wants you dead, and not only that, whoever it is wants you to suffer as you take your last breaths.”
“I don’t understand,” Ivy said. “Who would send this? Who is the dark temptress of the Unseelie Caverns? I defeated Alena. The threat against Winter should be gone. Why would anyone from the Unseelie Caverns want me dead?”
“You did defeat Alena,” Ardan said, “but Alena’s daughters are still free to gain allies.”
Ivy snorted in disbelief. “Slaine is in Seelie with Bear. Teagan fled before Alena died. I don’t see how either of them could pose much of a threat.”
“And yet you’ve just been threatened, my love,” Ardan said. “I’m sorry, Ivy, but we cannot assume this was an empty threat, and we cannot assume Alena’s threat died with her.”
Ivy met his eyes, searching for some sign of comfort, some signal that everything would work out, but there was only the bleak seriousness of the situation. She released a deep sigh. Apparently, the graduation party was officially over.
Chapter Six
Ardan thought he might be sick, and he wasn’t one to grow faint-hearted at the first sign of trouble.
But this was Ivy. His Ivy.
Someone—and he had a good idea who—had just sent his wife the most serious death threat a Fae could receive. The black butterfly was atrocious enough, but this one, still alive and suffering as it fought against death, had sent a clear message. Whoever had sent the ill wish wanted to see Ivy suffer.
“I’m okay, Ardan,” Ivy said. “Really, I’m fine.”
He didn’t move an inch from his seated position in the chair beside their bed. He simply followed her with his eyes, hoping to communicate how serious this was in their world. She pulled the towel from her hair and tossed it down the laundry chute. Her silver hair was darker after her shower, and she watched him as she pulled a comb through it.
“I can see you freaking out,” she continued. “I know you’re worried, but isn’t this—I don’t know—something we should have expected? I mean, my mother has ruled Winter for what? Like a thousand years, give or take? It’s only normal that some Fae would be resistant to change. I mean, this can’t be the first death threat the Winter Court has ever received.”
He couldn’t take any more. He stood, crossed the room, and gently took her shoulders.
“That is precisely what you are failing to understand, my love. No Seelie or Unseelie Court Fae would dare to send such a message to another, let alone a royal. This wasn’t one of your Fae or any of the courts. Not even Alena ever dared such a bold threat.”
Finally, she stopped combing, her brows wrinkling. “So, what are you saying? This wasn’t a Seelie or Unseelie Fae at all?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying.”
Ivy shrugged, still failing to understand. “ What else would it be?”
Ardan turned, trying to harness his anger and his fear before it crippled him. After several deep breaths, he faced her. Taking her hand, he pulled her to the chair and sat her down. Then, he lowered himself to his knees and took her hands.
“There are…others,” he began. This was a topic her tutor had yet to cover.
“Others? What do you mean others?”
“Darker creatures,” Ardan said. “Darker than the Red Caps. Darker than the Hellhounds.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath that came out in a sigh. When she opened them, she was fearless. Unafraid. He loved her for it, but her determination to meet the threat head-on did nothing to quell his worry.
“It could be a number of creatures in the Faerie Realm,” Ardan continued. “They live in darkness deep in the Unseelie Caverns. Long before I was born, Queen Endellion cast them out of the Seelie Realm. She considered them lesser creatures because they weren’t loyal to any of the courts, and they didn’t stay in one place for long. They were scavengers, and many of them, like the Red Caps, depend upon the blood of others for their survival. They’re like parasites, living on small rodents and underground streams. They would never involve themselves in any sort of court affairs unless they were being controlled by someone else.”
“I don’t understand,” Ivy said.
He sighed. “We have an understanding. We stay out of their way, and they stay out of ours. Neither interferes with the other. For centuries, we have kept them apart from our world, separated and fighting against each other for territory and food. But the worst fear of every Fae royal in either realm is for those dark creatures to unite. If they ever joined forces, there are enough of them to destroy all of Faerie.”
Ivy stared blankly at him for several moments before leaning forward and rubbing her face.
“Perfect,” she said. “Another life or death obstacle to overcome. I can always use a new challenge.”
“Hey,” Ardan whispered. His heart twisting for her, he brought his hand gently to her cheek. “We’re in this together, and we’ll figure it out. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Ivy smiled at him, then, that challenging smirk that infuriated him. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I don’t,” he said. “And I mean it.”
Her face fell, the seriousness of the situation finally sinking in. “What are these creatures, and why would they be teaming up now?”
“I’m guessing the Brags are behind the black butterfly. They are shadow creatures that dwell in darkness. They don’t eat or drink like regular Fae creatures. They thrive upon emotion, especially fear. The more emotion they consume, the stronger they get. I haven’t heard of it happening in centuries, but if given enough victims, they could actually take on the appearance of one of us—they could walk among us, like demons in our image.”
“Perfect,” Ivy said. “So, just keep your emotions in check, and you’ll be fine, right?”
Ardan almost laughed at her
naivety. “I’m afraid not. If you meet their eyes, they become whatever it is you most fear. Once they’re inside your mind, they can continue to torture you with fear, feeding on your emotion, until you go mad and have nothing left to give. They never kill their victims, but, when given the opportunity, they leave behind empty shells.”
He watched Ivy with concern as he spoke. She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.
“I’m sorry, love, I know this isn’t a pleasant topic.”
“Better to know your enemies, right? What else is out there?”
“There are also Leprechauns, Imps, Trolls, and Goblins,” he said, “but the most likely recruits, aside from the Red Caps and Hellhounds, are the Laltogs.”
“Laltogs?” Ivy asked. “Like bats? Doesn’t that mean bat in Gaelic or something?”
“Yes,” Ardan said, “but they aren’t simply bats. They’re Fae that stand upright like us, but they have the wings and claws of bats. They survive on the blood of their victims. They can live on animals and do, for the most part, but they like nothing better than running across a solitary Fae and draining him of blood with their razor sharp fangs.”
“Like vampires?” Ivy asked.
“Exactly,” Ardan answered. “Your human vampire legends come from the Laltogs. Some, who did not want to live in the depths of Faerie, moved to the human realm, only coming out at night to claim their victims.”
“So there are actual vampires? Like Dracula, blood-sucking vampires?” Her eyes were wide.
“Yes,” Ardan said, “But they are an enemy on a whole different level. Where trolls lack intelligence, leprechauns lack speed, and imps and goblins lack motivation, the Brags and the Laltogs are smart, cunning, and lethal. If they were to unite with an army of Red Caps and Hellhounds, the consequences would be devastating.”
Ivy rested her head on her knees, her shoulders shaking. At first, Ardan thought she was crying, but when he tipped her chin, he realized she was laughing. Ivy never did what he expected, and once again, he was left dumbstruck.
“I fail to see how any of this is funny, my love,” he said. “Forgive me, but I find no humor in dark creatures sending death threats to my wife.”
