Crown of Darkness

by Bec McMaster

  “Thiago,” Kyrian calls, greeting him with clasped hands. “You survived.”

  “You doubted.” There’s a hint of reproof in my husband’s voice, though he returns the swift embrace.

  Kyrian turns that dangerous stare upon me. “It’s not so much your wife I doubted, so much as the nature of true love.”

  I snort. “Perhaps if you’d stayed to watch, you might have learned a thing or two about love.”

  A slight narrowing of his eyes reveals that this is a point to me.

  “You should have stayed,” Thiago muses, “if only to see the look on Adaia’s face when Vi defied her.”

  “What’s that noise?” I ask.

  We all fall silent.

  The ticking continues and Kyrian looks down in surprise, before tugging a golden compass from his pocket. When he flips the lid open, the arrow is flickering between east and west, quivering as if some magnetic force draws it.

  It finally comes to a halt.

  And it’s pointing directly at Thalia.

  Kyrian slowly looks up, his other hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “You’re one of the saltkissed?”

  “So lovely to see you again, Prince Kyrian,” Thalia says, with a faint curve to her lips. “I can still hear the sweet ringing compliments you threw my way the last time we dined. And yes, my father was of the sea.”

  “I knew there was a reason I disliked you.”

  “What’s wrong?” Thalia demands, setting her hands on her hips. “Are you worried I’m going to ensorcel your heart? I’ve heard it’s too late for that. You gave it away, didn’t you? And you no longer have one.”

  Kyrian takes a step toward her, his nostrils flaring, but Thiago stops him with one firm hand in the center of his chest.

  “That’s my cousin,” he reminds the prince.

  Kyrian looks like he doesn’t give a damn. He looks like he wants to shove Thiago out of his way and then physically cast Thalia out of the window. Their eyes meet, and I can see both of them battling their monumental pride.

  It’s Kyrian who gives way first, his lips thinning as he turns to the ballroom. “I think I need a drink.”

  “That’s right,” Thalia declares, with a vicious smile. “Run. The way you did last time.”

  Kyrian stiffens, clearly thinks about answering, and then keeps walking.

  “You said you argued,” Thiago growls at his cousin. “This doesn’t look like a mere argument to me.”

  Thalia’s smile slips, and then she shrugs her shoulder. “You don’t need to know everything. Suffice it to say, Prince Kyrian and I have been at odds from the moment we met.” She straightens the lapel on Thiago’s coat and gives him a wink. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to fuck me.”

  “Mother of Night. Thalia.”

  “What?” She gives him big, innocent eyes.

  Thiago shakes his head and turns to follow Kyrian. “I need something to drink too.”

  Thalia simply laughs.

  There’s drinking and dancing, of course, and Lucere can barely hide her thrill at having a new dance partner. Kyrian sweeps her around the clearing in vigorous circles, though his smile remains cool.

  He dances well though. There’s an athletic sort of grace to him that begs you to imagine him aboard a pirate ship, and while Lucere might beam in his arms, it’s quite clear he’s controlling every move of the dance.

  A soft sigh echoes beside me. “It’s such a shame that such a delicious body houses such an unruly spirit.” Thalia throws back her glass of wine, before she catches me watching her and rolls her eyes.

  “Hmm.” I hadn’t missed the hot glare the pair of them had shared. “There’s a story there. And not merely an argument.”

  “No story.”

  I poke her in the ribs. “Oh, no. You’re not going to get away so lightly. You know all my secrets, and yet I’ve never heard you mention Kyrian’s name.”

  “Because there’s no reason to mention it.”

  “Liar. There’s a reason he watches you like a scalded cat lashing its tail. And you were baiting him.”

  “Fine.” Thalia sighs. “Kyrian and I have met. Numerous times, though Thiago tends to keep us apart as often as he can these days. Suffice it to say that one of the saltkissed ensorcelled him. He was so enamored, he was poised to marry the girl before he woke to find her above him with a knife, intent on carving his heart out of his chest. They fought and she escaped to the seas, but not before he learned that she’d never truly loved him.

  “She’d been sent by her father to seduce him and then assassinate him, and, fool that he is, he tripped over his own feet the second he heard her sing.” Thalia rolls her eyes. “So now he despises the saltkissed, and spends the storm season hunting the seas for Meriana. That compass he has? It’s a magical device he stole that can find anything in the world. The bearer just has to wish for it, and the compass needle will point directly toward it.”

  “It was pointing at you.”

  Thalia pokes me back. “That’s because he uses it to hunt the saltkissed, and there’s enough salt in my blood to make me flare like a beacon whenever it’s around me. I had to hide what I was every time we met. But I’m done hiding.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you’re so determined to bait him,” I tease.

  “That’s because he’s an arrogant, insufferable fool. One saltkissed woman does him wrong, and now he’s determined to hunt the entire race? That’s sheer idiocy speaking.”

  “And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact he’s as handsome as the Horned One.”

  “Princess or no princess, I will plunge you into the wine barrel head first,” she threatens, “if you keep making such inane comments.”

  Someone’s touchy.

  “Besides,” she sniffs, gesturing an hourglass shape in the air, “as pretty as he is, he doesn’t deserve to get his hands on this.”

  Every inch of her is perfection, and she knows it.

  The fae are physically inclined to be tall and lean as a race, but Thalia owns an abundance of curves she clearly inherited from her saltkissed brethren. She crosses the line between curvy and voluptuous, and every male in the entire gathering has noticed.

  That might have something to do with the gown she’s wearing. It’s virginal white, though there’s nothing virginal about the plunging neckline that sits just off her collarbone. Billowing fabric flares from her shoulders, gathering again around her wrists, and leaving her upper arms bare. I don’t know what her dressmaker has done to her skirts, but they drape in the center where a silver band bedecked in pretty diamonds emphasizes the curve of her waist.

  Lucere sparkles like the moon in her white gown, but she pales in comparison to Thalia. I don’t know if my friend knew Lucere would be in white, but I suspect she did.

  When it comes to wardrobe decisions, nothing Thalia wears is left to choice.

  Nothing I wear is either, since she’s been in charge of my wardrobe the second she saw me wearing “some kind of loose Asturian handkerchief that does nothing for my shape”. She’d spent fifteen minutes lecturing me about how I’m the Princess of Evernight now, and I represent their kingdom.

  I gave up, told her she could do what she liked to my wardrobe, and the very next day I walked into my dressing chambers and discovered rows of silk and velvet she must have already had prepared for me.

  I might have fought more for my own sense of style, if Thiago hadn’t taken one look at me the second I walked downstairs and dropped his spoon in his porridge, sending a wave of mushy oats directly into Finn’s face.

  “Fine,” I agree. “Kyrian doesn’t deserve to touch so much as the hem of your skirt, but that doesn’t explain why you’re still staring at him….”

  Thalia’s smile holds a hint of the wolf in it, and it’s all Thiago. “Just because he doesn’t deserve to touch me, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to,” she purrs, handing me her empty wineglass. “Excuse me, I’m going to go dance.”

  “He�
��s not going to dance with you.”

  “And he’s not going to. You.” She points at a nearby blond who snaps to attention so swiftly, he spills wine all over his friend. “Dance with me.”

  “What are we doing?” Thiago purrs, draping his arms around me from behind.

  I’m still watching the dance floor, though I sensed him swimming through the tide of courtiers toward me like a hungry shark. “Admiring your cousin.” I can’t help laughing. “She’s absolutely merciless.”

  Thalia’s also danced with every handsome fae male in the vicinity, leaving a trail of lovesick swains behind her.

  So far she’s pointedly ignored Kyrian, but he noticed her the second she graced the dance floor. At first it was just a scowl. And then it devolved to red-hot glares. And now I swear he’s grinding his teeth through the fake smile he wears.

  Neither of them will concede the dance floor, though Kyrian’s effortless grace seems to be a little less effortless, and he’s practically ignoring the woman in his arms.

  Because Thalia can dance.

  And if she had every male glancing at her earlier, now she has them tripping over their own feet.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have brought her.”

  I lean back into his embrace. “No, no, I’m enjoying it.”

  “You would.” He smacks my bottom.

  “Anything to see my nemesis humbled.”

  “He’s an ally,” Thiago points out.

  “He’s arrogant. And he hates me.”

  Stillness leeches through my husband. “It’s not as simple as that. Come on, let’s dance.”

  I turn and slip my arms around me as he sends us whirling into the dancers. I love these moments. Having my arms around him, body to body and knowing it will lead elsewhere if I play my cards right. “You were saying?”

  Thiago must have inherited some of Thalia’s grace, because he moves lightly for such a tall man. Clasping my left wrist, he spins me under his arm. “Kyrian doesn’t hate you. But there are similarities between us. He was with me the night I met you, and the second I saw you I knew you were the one Maia had made me for. But you were my enemy’s daughter. In his eyes, I might as well have been ensorcelled.”

  “Well, you weren’t.”

  “What Meriana did to him was cruel,” Thiago says, sweeping me in circles. “Ensorcellment isn’t an easy spell to break. Every day he woke, he could feel it gnawing at him. He could barely eat or drink, and couldn’t sleep. He spent years trying to break her hold over him.” Thiago gives me a long look. “I saw what it did to him, Vi. I’ve seen torture before, and none of them looked as desperate as he did. I was there to help him pull through it and he’s never forgotten it. He doesn’t want the same thing to happen to me. Give him some grace. Let him come to terms with the fact your love is true.”

  I sigh. “You’re making me feel sorry for him.”

  “I will always defend you, if he doesn’t watch his tongue,” he says, shooting a glance across the room. “But I understand where it’s coming from.”

  Tension suddenly sweeps through him. I follow his gaze to see what’s caught his attention and realize the dance is changing.

  The music becomes a sweeping reel, and one glimpse toward the musicians shows Lucere there. No doubt she wants to force me and Thiago apart, but she didn’t count on who else was dancing.

  Thiago and I are forced to change partners. I arrive in the arms of a redhead, and then several beats later, I’m spinning toward a blond.

  Thalia and Kyrian whirl toward each other with the inevitability of a ship facing an iceberg.

  There’s a second where the two of them spin toward the next partner and realize they’re facing each other.

  Both of them freeze.

  Without another word, Kyrian stalks away, leaving her standing there behind him.

  It could have been rejection, but Thalia throws back her head and gives a sultry laugh, before she summons a redhead with a crook of her finger.

  She claims it as victory instead.

  I try to roll my eyes at Thiago, but find him dancing with the crown princess of Ravenal, and suddenly the music is changing again, becoming smooth and gentle. No more changing of partners.

  Well played, Lucere.

  “Your Highness?” asks the blond, offering to continue.

  “Thank you.” I don’t bother with a smile. “But I think I’m going to get some wine.”

  Chapter Nine

  “They make a stunning couple,” says a voice from behind me. “A ray of light gleaming beneath the stars, and a dark lord garbed in strict black. One can almost imagine a painting done thusly.”

  I almost slosh my wine over my hand. Curse it. “Prince Corvin, do you dabble with paints?”

  Corvin settles at my side, his eyes upon his sister and my husband. “No. Though I have an appreciation for beauty.”

  Eris appears out of nowhere. “That’s just you looking in the mirror, Corvin.”

  “Ah, the sweet Eris.” Corvin leans his shoulder against the arch we’re standing beneath. “As diplomatic as ever.”

  “You want to fight? Then I’ll go get my blade,” she says. “You want to fuck? Then just say it plainly. I need a good laugh. And I don’t pretend to be anything other than what I am.”

  Their eyes meet.

  And Corvin smiles. “I forget how refreshing you are. It’s like a glass of icy water dashed into one’s face.”

  “And you’re as smooth as Finn’s ass. You lie through your teeth, flirt with one woman even while your eyes are watching another, and can’t be trusted an inch.”

  “And yet, I’m not the one who betrayed his oath.” Corvin surveys the dance floor as he sips his wine. “It’s rather bold of Thiago to stroll back in here with a wife on one arm as if nothing ever happened.”

  I straighten. “Excuse me?”

  “She speaks,” he taunts.

  But it’s Eris he should be watching, because she’s glaring murder at him. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

  Corvin holds his hands up in innocence. “It’s not as though I’m lying, am I?”

  Eris shuts her mouth.

  What, by the Erlking’s cock, is he talking about? “Perhaps you should explain.”

  “Didn’t you know there was once talk my sister would marry your husband?” He smiles pleasantly and tips the wine to his lips as he gestures to the dance floor. “Negotiations had begun, and it had been arranged for the two of them to meet at the Queensmoot almost… oh, thirteen years ago, wasn’t it? Except when my sweet sister Lucere arrived at the Queensmoot, he was already dancing with another and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman in his arms.”

  Me.

  “Lucere shouldn’t have presumed the deal was done,” Eris growls. “They were only to meet. Thiago never agreed to anything more.”

  It’s real?

  “She’s hated you ever since, did you know?” Corvin says quite pleasantly. “She thinks you stole him from her.” Leaning closer, he whispers in my ear, “So I wouldn’t drink anything Lucere gives you tonight, my sweet. Just in case.”

  I don’t drink anything that isn’t poured in front of me, courtesy of the drugged wine my mother would give me before she cursed me. “I wasn’t planning to.”

  His smile seems a little satisfied. Eris is right. This bastard likes to play games.

  But we need his alliance. “I’m sorry for your great-grandmother’s death. My mother betrayed us all.”

  “Oh, I’m not.” He tosses a coin in one hand, and I have no idea where he got it from. “Nor is anyone else here in Ravenal. The old bitch starved us for years, and now we can finally feast. She deserved to die.”

  I can see the look on Lucidia’s face as the bane sprang upon her from behind, his jaws clamping over the back of her head as he crushed her skull. “Not like that, she didn’t.”

  Corvin’s smile holds a wealth of meaning. “Surely the daughter of Queen Adaia isn’t showing her enemy mercy?”

 
“Perhaps she’s a changeling stolen from her cradle?” I tense as a voice purrs over my skin from behind. “For a true daughter of Adaia would slaver for even the tiniest hint of blood in the water.”

  Lucere slinks toward me as though she’s hunting me. I guess the dance is over.

  “If you’ve ever been hunted by a bane, then you would know that I would wish such a fate upon no one.”

  “Are you having fun with my brother, Princess?” Innuendo drips from her voice.

  “More fun, perhaps, than you.” I glance to where my husband is muttering in Finn’s ear.

  Her smile shows teeth. “Thiago’s just as… sophisticated as I recall.”

  My eyes narrow.

  Thiago is many things, but sophisticated? Only when he’s trying to hide who he truly is.

  “If you knew him at all, then you would know the sophistication is merely a thin mantle he wears when in public. I prefer him in his darker aspect. Raw. Demanding. No longer playing at… sophistication.”

  Lucere’s eyes narrow, but Corvin seems to choke on his wine, as if he’s trying not to laugh.

  “And as to my condolences,” I turn back to Corvin, “I wasn’t aware we were enemies. Thiago tells me Evernight has enjoyed a strong alliance with Ravenal for years.”

  The siblings exchange a glance.

  “The Alliance of Light was created five hundred years ago,” Lucere says, stealing a glass of wine from a passing servant’s tray as if to prove she’s not afraid to drink it. “Five hundred years is a long time, Princess. Ravenal is hungry. For too long we’ve been choked with a gilded leash, but now it’s time to prove the kingdom deserves more than the scraps she’s been fed.”

  “And now the Alliance is shattered,” I reply, because this is the entire reason Thiago needed to come here tonight. “My mother betrayed us all, and now we find ourselves little islands in the night, forced to deal with threats from both within and without.”

  “Ravenal’s borders are strong,” Lucere counters. “And Adaia’s attention is north.”