Crown of Darkness

by Bec McMaster

  Time to face your fears.

  “Now I find the Crown of Shadows and give it to that bitch,” I tell her. “I will pay my dues. But she will have no more of me than that.”

  The oracle cocks her head, considering me.

  “We will see,” she says. “I have one last request before I answer your question.”

  “No. No more requests.” I’ve played that game before and lost. Badly. “You’ve had your price. Now you owe me answers.”

  Her smile grows. “I ask for no price but this: Seek the prophecy that speaks of a savior who will break Unseelie. Read the true prophecy. And then come and find me if you wish to know more.”

  No matter which way I twist the words, I can’t see a trap. But I know there is one. “You’re trying to use me too.”

  “Aye. But I will admit it openly. A queen will walk this realm, Iskvien. She is coming, and all the world is aquiver with the promise of her awakening. She will right ancient wrongs. She will bring peace to the lands and tear down an entire thicket of lies. She will renew that which was broken and return glory to those who had it stolen from them.”

  “I am not… I am not that queen.”

  She merely tilts her head and considers me. “No. You are not that queen. Though you have the promise of it. But we shall see what the future holds. Read the prophecy. That is all I ask.”

  “And the crown?”

  “Once there was a prince,” she says. “A power-hungry male who wanted to cast down the queens who ruled over him. He despised the yoke of Maia’s name. He raged against the injustices he saw as keeping him from his rightful throne. He had three sisters—all younger—and all of them ahead of him in line for the throne of his kingdom. And his hunger grew. Not just for the throne his mother sat upon, but for the thrones of all who ruled.

  “He slew his sisters in a bloody coup. He took his mother’s head and placed it on a spike atop his city walls. And then he turned his attention to other powers—other thrones. But the queens are tied to the lands, and so he knew he would have to seek a dark and dangerous power in order to overthrow them.

  “He went north and he made a bargain with a creature there who had the gift of metalworking. Halvern the Dwarf made the five great relics; the Sword of Mourning; The Shield of Victory; The Mirror of Betrayal; and the Armor of Lorendil…, but some say the Crown of Shadows was his greatest feat.

  “Bring me a fallen star and a thousand souls, Halvern said. I will use the star’s metal to forge the crown and the blood to quench the metal. And so, the prince trekked far and wide to find a star, still burning from its flight through the heavens. And he gathered a thousand souls and led them to their doom.

  “And Halvern produced his finest working: A crown so dark and bloody that it could smite any who opposed the one who wore it. A crown that could shake the lands themselves and crack the fault lines that quivered through them. A crown that could drink at the magic of the lands—the source of the ley lines powers—until they were dry.

  “The king ruled for a thousand years, and though the earth trembled beneath his touch, he held power over it. He sent thousands to his death camps and conquered kingdoms all across the continent. He yearned to rule them all. And though great armies fought, they fell, one by one, until a single kingdom stood against him.

  “And the princess who lived in that kingdom went to her father and said, ‘Kneel, father. Kneel before him, greet him with open arms, and then send me to end him.’ For she was beautiful and brave and cunning. And she knew that the king would see her face and demand her for his bed. And when the treaty was signed, she went to him with a knife in her boot, a smile on her lips, and murder in her heart.

  “But she had not counted on the king’s power. Nor had she counted on his cruelty. ‘Because you have knelt,’ the king told her, ‘you shall serve with my dogs.’ And he had her chained and leashed to his throne. He took her knife. And he took her body. And he took her pride. But he had not counted on her fury. Hatred brewed like a seed in her belly, and even as she submitted, even as she screamed and begged for mercy, she plotted his ruin.

  “Power grew like a seed in the princess’s heart. She was fae, and while she had not yet been consecrated to the lands, she could feel it crying out beneath her, desperate for an end to this tyrannical king’s rule.

  “She made a deal with one of her enemies—another young female who had been captured by the king for his harem. They slit the king’s throat while he was asleep, thinking his death would bring them glory, and her enemy used the king’s blood to bind the princess to the crown. But the king had worn the crown for so long that he was not entirely mortal anymore. He crawled onto his throne as the throne room shook and burned, his crown in hand. He set it on his head, even as the princess fought him for ownership of it.

  “The Crown of Shadows is sentient, and the princess knew she could not hope to win it by force. It feeds on the emotions of its wearer and gnaws at their soul. And the king was old by this stage, a shadow of his former self. So she offered the crown something that it hungered for: She offered it a new host to feed upon. A heart full of bloody vengeance. And a soul that craved power. And the crown accepted.”

  The oracle falls into silence, her dark eyes locked upon me.

  I can barely breathe.

  Why would the Mother of Night want such a thing?

  I don’t realize I’ve whispered the thought aloud until the oracle replies, “Because the crown was created to feed upon the power of the lands without being forced to bond with it. It can sidestep certain… restrictions. And the Mother of Night’s link to the lands was severed the second she was cast into her prison world.”

  I’ve felt her power. I would hate to face her with unrestricted access to it.

  “So she needs the crown to tie herself to the magic of the lands and break her way free of the prison,” I whisper.

  The oracle remains quiet.

  If I put that crown in her hands, then I have set her free. I have set them all free. But if I don’t….

  My hands lace over my abdomen in horror.

  “Where is the crown now?”

  “If you find the king, you will find the truth of the crown’s whereabouts.”

  “I want a name,” I tell her. “Who was he?”

  “But you should already know the name,” she says with a faint smirk. “It was your bloodline that ended his reign.”

  I shake my head slightly. I don’t—

  “Myrdal.”

  The name means nothing to me.

  “King Myrdal of Mirthwood.”

  Again, nothing. “I’ve never heard of anyone by that—"

  Of course not.

  It drops whole and fully formed into my brain.

  There’s one name that was obliterated from history. One name that was ruthlessly burned from the history books. One name that earned any bearer that spoke it the loss of their tongue.

  And suddenly, I see a castle choked with vicious thorns and roses. The king my mother stole her lands—and power—from. The king she wiped from memory, as if to destroy any hint of the man.

  “The Briar King. Myrdal.” I breathe the word, and it takes shape, as if to give him a name suddenly makes him real. He’s always been a myth. A monster. A secret we never dared speak of.

  And my mother was gifted to him? She was raped and brutalized and forced to heel at his boots like a dog? I can barely breathe. This doesn’t exonerate her actions. Nothing ever will. But there’s a part of me that feels grief for that princess—the young fae woman who sacrificed everything in order to bring down a monster.

  I don’t know her.

  There’s nothing left of her within my mother’s hard carapace.

  But… it explains so much.

  “Yes. That king. Your mother took his life and his crown and his lands,” the oracle whispers, leaning closer as if she can smell my sudden fear and wants to drink it in. “You want to find the Crown of Shadows? Then take the crown from Myrdal’s head, a
nd you will understand everything.”

  To get that crown means venturing right into the heart of my mother’s kingdom.

  Past armies. Past enemies.

  Right beneath her nose.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “No. Absolutely not,” Thiago snarls.

  I spent the entire trip home to Ceres thinking through my arguments, so I’m calm as I face him. “I know the ruins of Briar Keep. I know every inch of the land surrounding it. It makes sense if I’m the one who goes.”

  “You’re with child.”

  “We only suspect that—”

  “Suspicion is enough for me!” he yells, his voice echoing through the council chambers. “If your mother gets her hands on you and my child, then this war is done. She will win, because I will do anything to get you both back. I will crawl at her feet. I will slit my own throat. I will chain myself to her throne if she so demands it.”

  “But I won’t be alone,” I tell him, because I discussed this with Eris on the boat ride back to the Hallow. “Eris will be coming with me.”

  “Eris?”

  “You were quite content to let her accompany me into Unseelie to visit the oracle. Do you not trust her with my life?” I ask him.

  His face reddens and he shoots a glare at Eris. “You’re awfully silent. I take it my wife has your consent for this foolish plan?”

  She shrugs. “We need the crown. And we can’t enter Asturia in force. Nor can we enter in secret. The entire countryside is crawling with Asturian troops who have the faces of Evernight’s prince plastered on every propaganda poster nailed to the tavern doors. Vi knows the lay of the land. It makes sense.”

  I take a deep breath. “Two riders might be glanced over, especially females. And if not, then… the Hallow at Briar Keep hasn’t been used in centuries, but if anyone can use it, it’s going to be me.”

  “No,” Thiago says simply. “No.”

  “So we wait?” We cannot afford to wait. Once Asturia and Evernight officially clash, the borders will lock up tighter than Nanny Redwyne’s drawers. “Eight months, Thiago! We have eight months to find it!”

  He crosses his arms. “I have concerns with this story. Your mother got her hands on a powerful weapon and she just left it on this Briar King’s head?”

  The thought troubles me too. Why would my mother have left it there?

  To mock him?

  Is she still tied to it?

  It makes no sense, for she’d keep it close by, wouldn’t she? And yet, I’ve never seen anything like that in her possession, nor felt its malevolence.

  “It fed on the king, and then turned on him when she defied him,” I say. “Maybe she didn’t wish to be bound to such a thing. But the oracle said I would understand everything once I took the crown from his head.”

  “I don’t like this—”

  “Nor do I,” I counter. “But this is the best hope we have. Please. Please trust me to do this. I need you here. I need you to create a diversion so my mother’s attention is focused on you.”

  He doesn’t like it, but he’s wavering.

  “You want her to be your queen,” Eris points out quietly. “You can’t smother her. You can’t lock her away.”

  “I’m not….” He breaks off with a curse and starts pacing. “I can’t lose you, Vi. I can’t. You’re the only thing that helps me hold this at bay.”

  My heart feels like lead in my chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Thiago falls into stillness. “It’s reached my collarbone. It’s broken through some of my wards.”

  I stop breathing. He doesn’t need to say what.

  Mother’s curse.

  “Then we don’t have any more time,” Eris snaps, pushing to her feet.

  I feel like I want to be sick.

  But Thiago finally nods. “Fine. I’ll allow it. What do you need? What sort of diversion do you want?”

  I cross to him and kiss him gently. “I want you to attack Clydain. Take a small handful of warriors, but don’t get caught. Make it messy.”

  It feels strange to be back within Asturia’s forests.

  The massive oaks blot out the sky, but the undergrowth is not as wild and untamed as the wyrdwoods that litter Evernight. Evernight feels like a wild kingdom, barely civilized, whilst truffle pigs have trampled the undergrowth here in the forest and my mother’s hunters have chased the deer to exhaustion. I used to love these forests, but I can feel the loss here, the way the wilds mourn for a time when they weren’t so sorely misused.

  Eris and I slipped through the Hallow near Thornwood and headed south three days ago.

  Though we’re not entirely alone.

  “Is it dinnertime yet?” Grimm demands, shadow-hopping from tree to tree.

  “No,” both Eris and I drone.

  “I could have sworn—”

  “No.”

  I sigh. “We ate two hours ago. And our supplies are limited.”

  “Well, why don’t you kill one of these pigs that seems to be roaming the woods?”

  I exchange a long, slow glance with Eris. “Because these ‘pigs’ have tusks as long as my forearm and I value my skin?”

  “We’ve been walking for days. I thought you needed to find this crown before the end of the year?”

  “It’s been three days,” Eris says very precisely. “And this is not the sort of thing one rushes. Not all of us can walk through shadows.”

  “You could have taken the Hallow to Briar Keep,” he snorts. “We could have been there, captured the crown, and be enjoying a nice, delicious roast pig right about now in the dining hall of Ceres.”

  “The Hallow at Briar Keep hasn’t been used in centuries.” At first we tried to ignore him, but there’s only so many hours of incessant meowing that one can ignore.

  “Why?”

  “Because Briar Keep is haunted,” I mutter, shifting my pack into a more comfortable place. “The entire ruins are choked with thorns, and while many have slipped inside, very few of them return. It’s not safe.”

  “Haunted—?”

  “Perhaps you can investigate for yourself,” Eris says sharply as we break through the trees. “Here we are.”

  Nothing has changed.

  Eerie thickets of thorns cling to the rough stone walls, and little turrets peer through them at off intervals. A raven caws as we take slow, stealthy steps toward the keep, but the tress are strangely devoid of animals.

  Eris’s nostrils flare, and she moves forward with slow, careful footsteps before abruptly pausing.

  “What is—?”

  A sharp hand gesture silences me.

  Nothing moves through the ruins. Nothing but wind shivering through the brambles.

  But now I can feel it too.

  We’re not alone.

  “Who is it?” I whisper.

  Eris holds up a hand and one finger.

  “Well, o Lord of the Shadows,” I mutter, silently stringing my bow. “Surely if there’s someone lurking in there, you’ll be able to find them.”

  Grimm turns and saunters directly into a shadow. “Don’t get yourself killed. I’ll investigate.”

  He’s gone for maybe fifteen minutes before Eris shrugs off her pack. “The little bastard’s probably chasing mice. I don’t like this.”

  “You want to set a trap?”

  She grins.

  “Let me guess…. You want me to play the bait?”

  Eris flashes a smile as she slowly draws her dagger. “Well, let’s be honest…. Nobody is going to mistake me for any sort of damsel. But you and those big, pretty eyes?”

  I roll said pretty eyes. “Fine. Let’s go see what I can draw out of the forest. Watch my back.”

  “Always.”

  I walk slowly through the empty courtyard, leaves crunching underfoot, and every inch of me prepared for an ambush.

  But when it comes, it’s from the most unexpected source.

  “Halt!” calls a voice, the familiar sound slicing right through me.<
br />
  Maia’s mercy. Every inch of me freezes, and I spin around to face my sister, cursing her under my breath. Andraste slips out from beneath an arch.

  We face each other, and I can’t stop my heart from racing.

  Her gold-plated armor gleams in the burnished light of sunset. Braids sweep her hair back off her face, though the rest of it hangs in a tangle of elegant curls. It’s like looking at a younger, kinder version of my mother.

  “What are you doing here?” Andraste’s face hardens. “You shouldn’t be here. Mother will—”

  “What? Curse me? Steal my memories? Lock me away in the oubliette? There’s nothing she can do that she hasn’t already done.”

  “You fool,” she says bitterly. “You think those are the worst things she could do to you?”

  “What are you going to do? Summon her?”

  Andraste’s always been better at swordplay than me—despite all of Eris’s teaching. There’s no way I can beat her. Not with cold iron.

  But I draw my sword anyway.

  Magic? Maybe. It was the one area she lacked, and though I don’t dare rouse the power of the Hallow before I know exactly what danger lurks around Briar Keep, I can feel the ley line quivering beneath my feet.

  “Summon her?” Andraste demands.

  “Or deliver me to her in chains? Why are you here?”

  There’s something about her expression that alerts me. “I wouldn’t deliver you to her in chains. I just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to… see you. And I’m alone.”

  “How did you know I was going to be here?”

  “Thornwood sent a raven to the castle, and you’re lucky my people were the ones who intercepted it. Some of his men recognized you in the woods. If Mother knew—”

  “So she didn’t send you?” Betrayal’s not in my sister’s nature. She’s never once revealed a hint of insubordination. “You’re trying to tell me you’re here of your own volition? That you didn’t tell the queen I was in the country?”

  “If she’d sent me, I would be backed by an army. I know who walks at your side. I just wanted to talk to you.”