by Bekah Harris
Ivy rested her head on Jules’ motionless chest as the agony of loss tore through her.
The surge of her pain was so strong, ice rippled across the floor, and snow whipped from above, scattered by the icy winds that had gathered all around her. Her heart slowed from its rapid pace, and the hollow shell of anguish settled in her chest. Then, raising her head like a wolf, Ivy unleashed. A desperate cry burst from her lips, the raspy sound of it like that of a dying animal. An icy blast of cold seeped through her clothes and penetrated her skin until she felt the frigid air gathering around her heart. With a sharp sting, the sliver of ice inside her heart splintered into another.
Too weak to rise, too weary to move, Ivy curled up beside Jules, resting her head just over her silent heart and wept.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The anguished pitch of Ivy’s scream filled Padraic with a blind urgency that compelled him forward. Moving toward the noise, he ran blindly through the darkness, only vaguely aware when he ran into rocks and tripped over stones. Only Jules could elicit such a reaction from the calm and collected Thorn Princess, and that truth was quickly driving Padraic out of his mind.
“Slow down,” Ardan said from somewhere behind him. “We don’t know if there are more darklings. We have to be smart about this, brother.”
But Padraic didn’t care. He dared any darkling creature to block his way. Anything, anyone who dared to get in his way in that moment would pay in blood. And if the harm that had befallen Juliet or Ivy had been delivered by King Fhaescratch himself, every darkling creature in the Unseelie mines would fear the sound of Padraic’s name.
As he tore through the darkness, he detected whispers and shuffling. Drawing his blade and keeping his head down, Padraic slashed out in front of him, unleashing the full power of his darkest magic as he went. His blades found targets. Bodies fell in the wake of his power.
Finally, he reached the wide mouth of a cavern chamber. As soon as he stepped inside, the place erupted with light. Torches burned to life where they hung every few feet along the rocky walls. Precious stones winked in tiny pops of color in the shadowy light. Padraic slid to a stop when he reached the middle of the room.
Where was everyone?
Bear and Ardan halted behind him, leading the rest of their team—or what was left of it—toward the threat. But everything was quiet. Padraic had expected opposition, a fight from the Laltog King himself. But there was nothing.
“We have to find Ivy,” Ardan said. “If we find Ivy, we will find Jules.”
His brother’s voice broke as he uttered the words, and Padraic knew his burning pain. His fear. His rage.
Barrett grabbed a torch from the wall and searched the large chamber. In the center of the room, there was a rock formation shaped like a large ceremonial chair that would be found on a throne. This one belonged to King Fhaescratch, no doubt. Padraic had never come face to face with a Laltog, but his father had always described the darklings as clannish creatures who longed for the freedom to live in peace in their own Realm—Seelie. Judging from the sound of Ivy’s scream, they weren’t as noble as the stories would lead one to believe.
Grabbing their own torches, Ardan and Padraic followed Bear into the deeper recesses beyond the open chamber until they came to a small, dark room. The coppery scent of blood hung in the air. When the torchlight revealed a dais and a long settee, stained with dark, fresh patches that looked like bruises against the fabric. Beside the settee, a metal pail was overturned.
“Ivy was in here,” Ardan said. His voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper.
He crept toward the settee, holding his torch closer for a better look. He crouched, pressing two fingers into the dark stain on the velvet fabric and brought them to his nose.
No one dared move. No one dared speak a word.
“He fed from her,” Ardan whispered.
Padraic squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off visions of the same thing happening to Juliet. What would they find here? Would either of them be alive? Beside him, Padraic detected the bobbing of Barrett’s throat as he swallowed, his jaw clenching with rage and worry and fear. With a shaky hand, Padraic watched in horror as Ardan reached forward, picking up two wine bottles.
“They bled her and saved her for later,” Ardan said. “There’s so much. There’s so much of it here. How is there anything left?”
Padraic’s brain told him to move forward, to offer his brother comfort or encouragement, but his body was frozen in place. What if Ivy was dead? What if Juliet was dead? What would happen to the entire Faerie world if Lyric and Ivy both died? What would Padraic become if he lost Juliet?
Slowly, Ardan rose, staring down at the bottles in his hands. The tension in the air was palpable as Ardan’s rage thundered in the space around them. Ardan pulled his arm back, as if to shatter the bottles against the wall, but before he could throw them, Padraic launched into action.
“Don’t,” he said. “If we find her, and she is alive, she could very well need the blood in these bottles.”
And so could Juliet. If either of them had lost too much blood, they would need it replaced. And the Magi would know if it would work or not.
Ardan froze for several moments and then nodded.
Bear took the bottles from his hand and slipped them into a bag at his waist.
“There’s nothing else here,” one of the Winter guards said. “There are no other chambers in this cavern.”
They turned, exiting the room and stepping into the large chamber. With their torches, they walked toward the other side to explore the shadowy recesses they saw. As they walked through the corridor, they approached a cell. Iron bars prevented their entry. Padraic’s pulse pounded in his ears. This is where they would find Ivy and Jules. He knew it without a doubt. A potent mixture of fear, anger, and urgency swam through him at the possibilities that lay ahead. He thrust his hand forward, two dark tendrils of Unseelie magic winding around the bars, and pulled. The door popped off its hinges with a groan and crashed to the ground. The heavy thud echoed through the cavern.
Gathering his courage, he forced his feet forward and stepped into the cell.
Inside, Ivy—pale, anemic, and wild—crouched protectively in front of a body.
Padraic couldn’t feel his legs.
He dropped to the floor, his mind processing what his eyes were seeing.
In a pool of blood, Jules lay motionless behind her best friend, her throat torn open. A bloody arrow lay beside her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Relief washed over Bear like calming water.
Ivy was alive.
But as he took in the scene before him, cold, dark reality replaced his relief.
Ivy’s skin held a bluish tint, and her lips were a deep purple—a sure sign of blood loss. Her eyes were wild, like a feral animal, her silver hair a nest of dried blood. She crouched like a cornered beast, as if daring anyone to come close to the body behind her. Jules’ body.
Her best friend was cradled by a pool of blood, her throat punctured by the arrow that rested beside her.
Bear’s initial instinct was to rush to Ivy, wrap her in his arms, and hold her until she was better. But it wasn’t his place. And Ivy might never be alright again. Ardan rushed toward her, sliding on his knees and wrapping her in his arms. Though Ivy fought him at first, she relaxed as Ardan whispered promises in her ear. She would live. With time, she would recover. With a deep breath, he turned to Padraic. He was on his knees, staring in disbelief at Jules, his hands shaking.
Bear came down beside him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. Padraic was frozen. Emotionless. He was too overwhelmed by what he was seeing to have any sort of reaction.
“Ivy, who did this?” Bear whispered. “Who did this to Jules?”
She didn’t immediately answer, but after a time, she whispered a single name. Bear wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly.
“What did you say?”
“Slaine,” Ivy whispered.
Then, she was overcome by sobs, her entire body wracked with them as Ardan held her. As Bear watched her fall apart, his eyes fell upon two puncture wounds in her neck. He’d been expecting it, but he wasn’t prepared for the rage that compelled him to his feet. The betrayal that stung his heart. He didn’t love Slaine, but he had grown to accept her. Now, just as Ardan had warned him, just as his own mother had warned him, his wife—the mother of his child—had betrayed him. And she’d endangered their child to do it.
“Where is she?” he asked. He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice.
“Gone,” Ivy whispered. “She said she had to choose. She chose Teagan.”
Bear didn’t know what to say. What could be said? There was nothing that could make this situation better for any of them, especially Ivy and Padraic. Beside him, Padraic stood, his face blank, his eyes black as the heart that killed his love, and walked toward Jules like a dead man walking. He crouched beside her, and scooping her into his arms, buried his head in her chest, holding her as sobs ripped through the quiet and echoed off the walls.
“Blood,” Ivy whispered. “Laltog blood.”
“What did she say?” Bear asked. “What does that mean?”
But before Ivy could answer, a loud shuffling sounded from outside. Turning away from Ivy, he stepped toward the entrance of the cell and peered through the darkness. Shadowy creatures, their red eyes glowing like embers, attacked from all directions. Two guards fell under their spell, screaming and writhing as the Brags showed them their worst fears. Laltogs swooped down from the cavern ceilings, tearing them apart with teeth and talons. Hellhounds growled from all directions, and Bear could hear the raspy breathing of the Red Caps, though he couldn’t see where they were hiding.
“We have to get out of here,” Bear shouted.
Behind him, Ardan and Padraic’s footfalls thudded against the rocky floor. They each held their loves in their arms as Bear and the guards held off the darkling attack.
“Follow me,” Bear said. “Anything that gets in our way dies.”
Slashing out with his blade and the full power of Winter and Seelie magic, he blasted away two Laltogs that swooped down from above with a bright orb of icy light that blew the creatures apart. Just ahead the razor-sharp teeth of a Red Cap glinted in the dim light, and Bear slashed out with his dagger, cutting through its throat like melting snow. He continued to fight his way through the fray, avoiding the punishing eyes of the Brags, until they came out on the other side and rushed through the dark corridors that led back to the Unseelie Castle. When they were finally alone, followed by the half-dozen guards that remained, they stopped to rest.
Now that he was close enough to give her a proper look, Bear got a close-up of the puncture wounds in Ivy’s neck and wrist. Her gauzy dress was covered in blood, probably a mixture of her own and of Jules’. Ardan held her close, whispering assurances in her ear as Padraic continued to cling to Jules, her body the cadaverous gray of death. But something Ivy said had struck him, and it needed clarification, whether now was the right time or not.
“You said something just before the attack,”Bear began. “You said Laltog blood. What did you mean?”
Somewhat recovered, Ivy looked up at him, her green eyes dimmer than he had ever seen them. “While I was—being drained, Teagan attacked Jules,” she whispered. “She stabbed her, and she lost a lot of blood. But Fhaescratch fed her his blood to heal her. Jules said he didn’t want his first taste of human blood to be tainted with injury.”
Suddenly, Padraic came alive again. “Juliet had Laltog blood in her system when Slaine killed her?”
“Yes,” Ivy said. “What does that matter? He healed her only so she could be ripped away from me.”
A tear slipped from her eye and froze to her cheek. But Bear met Padraic’s eyes, which now glowed golden in their newfound hope. Bear smiled.
“It means that if we can ever get out of this labyrinth of tunnels, Jules will come back to us.”
“I don’t understand,” Ardan said.
“Laltog blood is powerful, so powerful that it can heal all wounds,” Bear said.
“Even death,” Padraic added.
Ivy pushed herself up, her brows wrinkled in confusion. “But does that mean she’ll be a…”
“A Laltog,” Padraic said. “But alive nonetheless.”
More tears slid from Ivy’s eyes, but the smile that graced her ghostly face was almost enough to make Bear forget the betrayal that had occurred under his own roof. As soon as they reached the Unseelie Castle, as soon as Ivy had recovered and they had figured out how to wake Jules, Bear would find Slaine. And once his child was born, Bear would never allow him or her to be tainted by Slaine’s twisted heart.
In the distance, the quick scampering footsteps of the Red Caps mingled with the low growling of the Hellhounds and echoed off the walls.
“We’ve got company,” Bear yelled.
Grabbing his dagger, he stepped into the fray.
Chapter Thirty
“How much longer?” Ivy asked.
“Soon,” Padraic said.
He smiled up at her from Jules’ side. She lay stretched out on their bed, her wounds cleaned and washed. Little by little, her skin regained its color, and the fatal wound in her throat was slowly closing. Soon, Magi Eamus has promised, her heart would pump life back into her veins. The downside is that she would need blood to survive. Without hesitation, Ivy had offered herself as a blood donor. Padraic, however, in true Padraic fashion that was a mixture between sexy and creepy, had declared himself Jules’ living blood bag.
Ivy felt like she’d been waiting days and days, but, recalling a poem she had once read, “Hope is the thing with feathers—That perches in the soul.” It was the only way to describe the lightness in her heart amid the looming threat of war. Jules would return to her. She would return to Padraic. Lyric would recover. They would defeat Teagan, Slaine, and King Fhaescratch. Then, all would be right with their world.
As soon as their small band of Fae royals had reached the Unseelie Castle, Ardan had filled Ivy full of food and sent her to bed. She’d slept for hours, curled up beside him, safe in his arms and comfortable in the softest bed she’d ever slept in—or so it seemed after so much time on the cold, rocky floor of the Unseelie mines. When she woke up, her energy and strength restored, she had sprung into action, sending dispatches to the other courts, calling on them for aid and warning them that Teagan and the Darkling Army would soon march on the entire Seelie Realm.
In Winter, Lyric was recovering, but Lochlan had sent reply that the process would be a slow one. The Laltogs had nearly ripped her to pieces, but the Magi’s secret treatments were progressing. In a week’s time, Ivy would be crowned Queen at Lyric’s request.
Each Court had vowed to raise an Army. Even the Seelie Court, much to Ivy’s surprise.
She had a feeling Bear had convinced his mother. Warmth swam through her, and tears stung her eyes as she thought of all Bear had risked to help Ardan and Padraic rescue her and Jules from the Laltog prison. There was no sign of Slaine or Teagan, or the Darkling Army, but Ivy suspected there were deeper, less accessible tunnels in the Unseelie Mines that stretched far beyond their imaginations. For now, they were hiding, and Ivy would use the time to regain her full power and watch over her best friend. Lochlan had assured her he had the Winter guard on full alert and ready to dispatch to defend Winter and Seelie at a moment’s notice.
Ardan had returned to Winter to dispatch Lyric’s commands and oversee the Guard so Lochlan could stay by her mother’s side. Each evening, Ardan returned to her, assuring her she was safer in Unseelie, under the protection of Padraic’s forces and away from Seelie. She would return for her coronation, at which point she would rule Winter.
Ivy sighed, pacing in front of the bed.
She knew she was driving Padraic crazy. He had tried more than once to get rid of her, but she wouldn’t be swayed. When Jules woke, Padraic and Ivy would be their first p
eople she would see.
“Did you see that?” Padraic asked.
Ivy whirled around. “See what?”
“I think her finger just twitched.”
“Seriously?” Ivy rounded the corner of the bed and examined Jules. “Her skin is looking better. There’s a bit of flush to her cheeks.”
She stepped around to the blood bag, which was nearly empty. They’d been feeding her through a tube that snaked in her nose and down her throat to her belly. Then, something stopped Ivy in her tracks.
“Do you hear it?” she squealed.
Beside her, Padraic was beaming. “I think so,” he said.
Jules’ heart was beating. It was the most precious sound Ivy had ever heard. She couldn’t help herself. She was hopping up and down beside the bed, as Padraic clung to Jules’ hand, as if his touch alone had the power to wake her.
The seconds ticked by. Ivy’s excitement waned to nervous anticipation. Would she still be Jules? Or would she be different? Every vampire story rushed through Ivy’s mind from Lestat to Stephan Salvatore, and she didn’t know which to expect, if any. Jules had always been her own person, and whatever she became from this point on was sure to be surprising.
Seconds turned to minutes, which gave way to hours. Nerves squirmed like wriggling puppies in Ivy’s chest, as she and Padraic took turns at Jules’ side. Before she realized how late it was, Ardan peeked inside the door.
“Do you plan to stay up all night, my love?” he asked. “You and I have some lost time to make up for.”
A blush warmed Ivy’s cheeks as Padraic laughed. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll be here. I’ll let you know when she wakes. You’ve barely slept the last three days. You can’t stay up forever.”
“Watch me,” Ivy said. “There’s no way I’m missing this.”
