The Glass Scepter

by Bekah Harris

  But Ivy smiled. “It’s okay, Jules.” She pulled her hand from her mouth. “You don’t have to hide from me. Ever.”

  Padraic stepped beside her and pulled Ivy into a strong embrace.

  But something was wrong.

  Jules’ stomach flipped in her stomach, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose, as if someone was watching her. As Padraic and Ivy shared their moment of grief, Jules turned, searching the forest beyond the burial ground for any sign of danger. Her blood rushed in her veins, her cold heart pounding.

  See me.

  The voice was clear, but it was coming from inside her mind.

  Frantically, she searched the treeline until she locked onto her target.

  King Fhaescratch. With her enhanced vision, she could see the fire in his eyes, even from such a far distance. His lips curled into a smile.

  What is happening right now?

  We are linked, you and I, by my blood. I will always be able to find you and you me.

  Oh, God.

  Jules squeezed her eyes shut as Padraic wrapped an arm around her shoulder, staring in the direction Jules had been gazing.

  “Was that…?” he asked.

  Jules took a deep breath, but she couldn’t say the words. Instead, she just nodded.

  Beside her, Padraic unleashed a long sigh.

  “He’s your sire,” Padraic concluded. “You are linked by the blood bond you share.”

  “What does that even mean?” Jules asked, her pulse racing.

  Padraic didn’t even bother to hide the worried lines of his face. “I don’t know,” he said. “But until we know, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  When Jules looked back at the treeline, Fhaescratch was gone, as if he’d never been there at all.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The iron door creaked open and Bear stepped inside the cell.

  Slaine was seated in a small wooden chair beside the bed, staring down at a book. Her dress strained against her belly, which sent forth a wave of panic that gnawed at Bear’s heart like Red Cap teeth.

  “Come to visit the wife you cast out?” Slaine sneered, not bothering to look up from the novel that rested on her lap.

  “I didn’t cast you out, Slaine. You left. You chose.” Bear couldn’t look at her, so his gaze wandered everywhere else. “Are you well? The Magi say the babe is healthy.”

  She shrugged. “It is a girl. Did they tell you?”

  Bear swallowed. “Yes.”

  “I suppose you wanted a boy.”

  Bear shook his head. “No. I would be happy no matter the gender.”

  “So, you’ve come to ask me why I did it?”

  “I’ve come to make sure you are well and have every comfort you need,” he said. “You have committed multiple crimes, but that is not our child’s fault.”

  She laughed, but the sound was more of a scoff. “When we were children, you used to chase me around the Winter castle and tug at my hair. I remember how jealous Teagan always was that you played with me and not her. And then, when we were older…”

  “That was a long time ago,” Bear said, cutting her off.

  Before she had been poisoned by her mother’s vengeance, Slaine had been someone whose company Bear had valued. But the older she got, the more evident Alena’s influence became.

  “Did you ever care?” she whispered. “Before Ivy? Was there ever a time when you imagined your life with me?”

  “Yes,” Bear admitted. “But long before Ivy, your mother had stolen your joy and filled you with spite. There was a chance for you when you were young, but the older you and Teagan became, the more your mother poisoned you.”

  “And now there’s no going back for either one of us,” she whispered.

  “No,” Bear agreed.

  “What will become of our child?” she asked. “I suppose your mother will smile, holding her grandchild as her guards execute me.”

  “You know as well as I what will happen to Endellion if you are executed.”

  Endellion had made an Incorruptible Vow with Alena. If any harm came to Slaine while in the care of the Seelie Court, Endellion would die instantly.

  “I would say I’m sorry, but well...at least I’ll take the old witch down with me.”

  “I will raise her,” Bear said, ignoring her. “Our daughter will be happy and whole. She will want for nothing, and she will be loved and cherished all the days of her life.”

  Slaine nodded, staring down at the babe she carried. “If I am not sentenced to death, and Endellion lives, don’t let your mother raise her,” she whispered. “Don’t let Endellion poison her as Alena poisoned me.”

  Bear nodded. That was one of the few things they agreed on.

  “How is Ivy?” Slaine whispered as Bear turned to go.

  He stopped in mid-stride, his spine stiffening.

  “Do not speak her name,” Bear warned. Rage swelled in his chest and rose to his head.

  “Did she cry?” Slaine asked. “Did she throw herself on his lifeless body and weep, as I stole the one she loved?”

  Disgusted, Bear walked toward the door.

  Her laughter echoed in his ears long after he had left the dungeons.

  When he reached his study, Bartley, the head of the Winter Court Brownies, was waiting in front of his desk. He held a letter bearing Winter’s seal and presented it to him.

  “From Her Majesty Queen Lyric,” Bartley said.

  Bear looked down at the old Brownie, his tiny spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He remembered tormenting Bartley in his younger years before he began his training as a guard.

  “How is the Princess?” Bear asked.

  “I’ll leave that to the letter,” he replied. “I’m sure Her Majesty will mention it.”

  “But I’m asking you, Bartley.”

  The Brownie peered up at him, his expression creased with worry. “She will not eat, Your Highness. She will not see anyone. She will not come out of her room. She stares out the window beyond the ice gardens.”

  “The burial mound,” Bear concluded.

  Bartley nodded. “I fear the worst. I was there the night she was born, you know. I was there when the exchange was made. She was the most perfect wee thing you ever did see. And she’s grown into such a lady. A queen. It pains me to see her like this.”

  “Thank you, Bartley,” Bear said, fighting back a fresh onslaught of rage. “Please tell the Queen I will respond promptly.”

  Bartley dipped his head and ducked out the door toward the portals.

  Bear sat down in the chair behind his desk and broke the seal of Lyric’s letter, dreading its contents before he dared to read a word.

  Prince Barrett,

  The death of Prince Ardan has taken its toll on Ivy. I have tried to reach her, to get through to her. King Padraic has tried. Lochlan has pleaded with her to eat. Even Juliet has been unable to sway her. Please know I would never ask this of you unless the situation were dire. You have always been able to help her see clearly. My hope is that you could come visit. The coronation is in three days, and I fear that you are the last hope in ensuring she takes the vengeance she so desperately needs.

  Ever in your debt,

  Lyric

  Bear stared down at the letter, unable to move. Given their complicated past and the even more complicated nature of Ardan’s death, Bear was certain he was the last person in either realm Ivy would want to see. If even Jules had been unable to reach her, Bear wasn’t sure what, if anything, he could do for her.

  But he had to try. Ivy had never given up on him. He would show her the same respect. With a sigh, he tossed the letter onto his desk and rose from the chair. Then, grabbing his coat from its hook, he strode down the hall toward the Winter Portal.

  Bear had been expecting Ivy’s room to be cold.

  What he hadn’t anticipated was the darkness. Though it was midday in Winter, the only light in the entire room was a sliver upon the floor created by a thin gap in the velvet dra
pes. Frost coated the walls, and he could see his breath in front of him. He squinted, trying to make out Ivy’s shape. He found her in the form of a lump in the middle of the large bed. She was curled up on her side, tucked into a knot, holding her knees to her chest.

  He didn’t have to see her tears to know she was lost in her grief.

  “It’s a little late in the day to be sleeping, don’t you think?”

  She didn’t answer him as he crossed the room and perched on the edge of the mattress.

  “Your mother says you haven’t been eating.” He glanced at the tray of uneaten food at her bedside.

  “If you came here for a pre-coronation pep talk, you can spare yourself the time,” she said in a low voice. “I’m not going.”

  “Why not?” Bear asked. “I know things are unbearable right now, but Ardan wouldn’t want you to miss your own party.”

  “Ardan is dead because of me,” she whispered. “I killed Alena. Slaine tried to kill me. Vengeance 101.”

  So this was about guilt. This was about the fear of moving forward without Ardan. But Ardan and Bear had both sacrificed too much for Ivy to give up. The truth might hurt her, and she might never speak to him again, but Bear would give her honesty.

  “No,” Bear said. “You don’t get to cop out of this. Ardan is dead because he chose to leap in front of an arrow, rather than allow it to hit you. He died because he cared more about you than himself. He wanted you to live, Ivy. Lying here in the dark, starving yourself, and blaming yourself for his choice, is an insult to his sacrifice. If the roles were reversed, what would you want Ardan to do?”

  She didn’t answer him, and Bear didn’t think she would. He only hoped she would consider his question. Without another word, he rose from the bedside, crossed the room, and left her alone in the deafening silence.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Fae from all Courts and both Realms gathered in the icy throne room of the Winter Castle.

  Ivy, dressed in fighting leathers, stood outside the door, waiting for Bartley to pound against the floor with his ceremonial rod. Lyric, who was still weak but recovered, waited on the other side of the doors, resting in the royal chair. Lochlan, who was standing silent beside her, linked arms with her. He covered her hand with his free one.

  “I know this is not how you expected this day to go,” Lochlan said. “But today is a good day.”

  Ivy had stopped crying days ago. But as Lochlan tried to comfort her, ice cracked like a lighting bolt up the wall, and snow poured from above. Today, she would ascend the Winter Throne as Queen. But Ardan wasn’t there to see it. There would be no royal dance after she was crowned. There would be no private celebration in their chamber after the event. There would be no laughter. No whispered secrets.

  Nothing.

  All that remained was a single goal.

  Teagan and Slaine would pay. Bear had promised.

  It had been him who had pounded at their door that night. He had come to warn them that Slaine was plotting against Ivy. But he was too late. Ardan had just reached for the door when Slaine had burst through the secret entrance to their chamber and loosed her arrow, aimed right at Ivy’s heart. But Ardan had pushed her away, and the arrow found a new target.

  He died in her arms, as the Unseelie Guards burst into the room with Bear and took Slaine into custody. She would be held under heavy guard until Bear’s child was born. Then, she would be tried and, with any luck, executed for the murder of a Fae Royal, an act of High Treason during a time of war.

  And war was inevitable. Teagan’s forces had scattered from their camp at the edge of Seelie lands. Their whereabouts were unknown at the moment, but Bear swore he wouldn’t sleep until he had their location. Then, all of Seelie and Unseelie would unite against the Darkling Army.

  Finally, she heard the tooth-jarring clatter of Bartley’s signal. The double doors yawned wide to reveal the packed Throne room. A dark blue aisle runner covered the ice that covered the floor. Ivy almost laughed. Now that she had fully recovered from being nearly drained by King Fhaescratch and had officially returned to Winter, her power had never been stronger. She possessed Ardan’s now, too. And in her anguish, everything had frozen, and a persistent snowstorm blew indoors and out.

  Holding her chin up at Lochlan’s nudge, she walked down the aisle toward her mother, who stood as Ivy approached.

  She ignored the piteous whispers of her guests who were foolish to think she couldn’t hear them, now that she was the most powerful Fae in the Seelie Realm. More powerful than even Endellion. Ivy now possessed the power of the Winter ancestors, the magic of her mother, and the dark Unseelie power Ardan left within her when he died, some of it transferred to the scepter. When Lochlan released her, she climbed the stairs and took her mother’s hand.

  “My beautiful daughter,” she whispered. “My beautiful Ivy, how proud I am of you.”

  The words seeped through her but didn’t touch her expression. Taking a deep breath, Lyric wrapped her arms around Ivy and pulled her close. Ivy forced herself to return the embrace, but none of its warmth reached her heart. She wasn’t sure that anything other that power and vengeance would ever touch her heart again.

  With a snap of her fingers, Lyric summoned Bartley, who rushed forward, carrying the official Winter Crown and the Glass Scepter.

  The crown was beautiful. Only brought out on the rarest and most special occasions, the Royal Crown of Winter was made of snow and ice that sparkled as if the sun had shone down upon it. Twisting around the icy points were Hawthorn berries, which hung like tiny pools of blood from thorny branches. Lyric turned away from her, gently taking the crown in her hands.

  “Ivy, Thorn Princess of Winter, today you take your place among the sacred ancestors of Winter. You are a powerful daughter, and your time to rise is at hand. Kneel, and you shall ascend the Winter Throne, forsaking all other kingdoms to serve your own.”

  Tears streamed freely down Lyric’s cheeks as Ivy dropped to her knees. She was touched by her mother’s emotions. This was the most important day of Ivy’s life, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She wasn’t supposed to be up here alone. Ardan was supposed to be by her side. Ardan was supposed to stand next to her and make inappropriate jokes in her ears, the kind that would make her blush before her people and prompt her to elbow him into silence.

  Fresh pain sliced through her like an icy blade. She swallowed down the sob. There was no room for weakness today. Not under the circumstances.

  The crown was heavy upon her head, but she would bear its weight. She had to. Ivy would never stop until Teagan, Slaine, and all the dark creatures who served them, had paid for their offenses in blood.

  When Lyric took Ivy’s hand, urging her to stand, King Padraic carried the ceremonial robe and wrapped it around her shoulder, clasping it together around her neck. The beautiful white fur was warm and inviting, and she held her hand out as her mother passed the Glass Scepter to her. As soon as Ivy’s hand closed around the icy shaft, it erupted with powerful winter magic.

  With Lyric on one side and Padraic on the other, they turned to face the crowd that had gathered for the coronation.

  “Fae of the Seelie and Unseelie Realms, I present to you Ivy, Queen of the Winter Court and defender of the Winter Fae.”

  Heads bowed as the large crowd of Fae kneeled. Once the official ceremony had ended, each of the Winter Fae would present themselves and swear fealty to her. Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, Ivy dipped her head and bowed before her people. As she lifted her gaze, it lingered on a figure in the back of the room.

  Dressed in the colors of Winter and wearing the Seelie Crown, Bear returned her gaze and crossed his fist over his heart.

  About the Author

  Born and raised in the mountains of East Tennessee, Bekah Harris has been writing since she could hold a pencil. The beauty of her home in the Appalachian Mountains, along with the legends, myths, and folklore of that area, is what inspires the unique plots and settings
captured in her young adult fiction. In addition to her love of all things fictional, Bekah is also a freelance writer and editor, an occasional adjunct professor, and a social marketing director. When not working, Bekah can be found at home building block towers for her son to knock down, drinking coffee and watching Netflix with her husband, and trying to win the approval of her grouchy calico cat.