Lord of Shadows

by Cassandra Clare

  "Who's Miach?" Emma asked.

  The Queen indicated Mark with the sweep of her hand. "Him," she said. "The nephew of my handmaiden Nene."

  Mark looked stunned.

  "Nene called Helen 'Alessa,' " said Emma. "So--Alessa and Miach are their fey names?"

  "Not their full names, which would give power. No. But much more harmonious than Mark and Helen, don't you agree?" The Queen moved toward Mark, one hand holding up her skirt. She reached to touch his face.

  He didn't move. He seemed frozen. Fear of the faerie gentry, and the monarchs in particular, had been bred into him for years. It was Julian's eyes that narrowed as the Queen put a hand against Mark's cheek, her fingers stroking down his skin.

  "Beautiful boy," she said. "You were wasted on the Wild Hunt. You could have served here in my Court."

  "They kidnapped me," Mark said. "You didn't."

  Even the Queen seemed a bit nonplussed. "Miach--"

  "My name is Mark." He said it without any hostility or resistance. It was a simple fact. Emma saw the spark in Julian's eyes: pride in his brother, as the Queen dropped her hand. She walked back toward her throne, and Julian rose and came down the steps, joining the others below her as she took her seat.

  The Queen smiled down at them, and the shadows moved around her as if commanded: curling into wisps and shapes like flowers. "So now Julian has told you all there is to know," she said. "Now we can bargain."

  Emma didn't like the way the Queen said Jules's name: the possessive, almost languid Julian. She also wondered where the Queen had been while Julian had told them what happened. Not out of earshot, of that she was sure. Somewhere close, where she could overhear him, could gauge their reactions.

  "You have brought us all here, my lady, though we do not know why," said Julian. It was clear from his expression that he didn't know what the Queen planned to ask of them. But it was also clear that he had not made up his mind to refuse her. "What do you want from us?"

  "I want you to find Annabel Blackthorn for me," she said, "and retrieve the Black Volume."

  They all looked at each other; whatever they had expected, that had not been it.

  "You just want the Black Volume?" said Emma. "Not Annabel?"

  "Just the book," said the Queen. "Annabel does not matter, save that she has the book. Having been brought back so long after her death, she is likely quite mad."

  "Well, that does make looking for her so much more fun," said Julian. "Why can't you send your Court to search the mundane world for her yourself?"

  "The Cold Peace makes that difficult," the Queen said dryly. "I or my folk will be seized on sight. You, on the other hand, are the darlings of the Council."

  "I wouldn't say 'darlings,' " Emma said. "That might be overstating things."

  "So tell us, what does the Queen of Faerie want with the Black Volume of the Dead?" said Mark. "It is a warlock's toy."

  "Yet dangerous in the wrong hands, even when those hands are faerie hands," said the Queen. "The Unseelie King grows in power since the Cold Peace. He has blighted the Lands of Unseelie with evil and filled the rivers with blood. You have seen yourself that no works of the Angel can survive in his land."

  "True," said Emma. "But what do you care if he's made the Unseelie Lands off-limits to Shadowhunters?"

  The Queen looked at her with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I do not," she said. "But the King has taken one of my people. A member of my Court, very dear to me. He holds that person captive in his land. I want them back."

  Her voice was cold.

  "How will the book help you with that?" Emma asked.

  "The Black Volume is more than necromancy," said the Queen. "It contains spells that will allow me to retrieve the captive from the Unseelie Court."

  Cristina shook her head. "My lady," she said. She sounded very sweet and firm and not at all anxious. "While we are sympathetic to your loss, that is a great deal of danger and work for us, just to assist you. I think you would have to offer something quite special to gain our help."

  The Queen looked amused. "You are very decided, for one so young." Rings sparkled on her fingers as she gestured. "But our interests are aligned, you see. You do not want the Black Volume in the King's hands, and neither do I. It will be safer here in my Court than it will ever be out in the world--the King will be looking for it, too, and only in the heart of Seelie can it be protected from him."

  "But how do we know you won't also use it to work against Shadowhunters?" said Emma, uneasily. "It wasn't such a long time ago that Seelie soldiers attacked Alicante."

  "Times change and so do alliances," said the Queen. "The King is now a greater threat to me and mine than the Nephilim. And I will prove my loyalty." She leaned her head back, and her crown shimmered. "I offer the end of the Cold Peace," she said, "and the return of your sister, Alessa, to you."

  "That is beyond your power," said Mark. But he had not been able to control his reaction to his sister's name; his eyes were overly bright. So were Julian's. Alessa. Helen.

  "It is not," said the Queen. "Bring me the book, and I will offer my Lands and arms to the Council that we might defeat the King together."

  "And if they say no?"

  "They will not." The Queen sounded supremely confident. "They will understand that only by allying themselves with us will they be able to defeat the King, and that to make such an alliance means they must first end the Cold Peace. It is my understanding your sister was punished with the Nephilim punishment of exile because she is part faerie. It is in the Inquisitor's power to overturn such a sentence of exile. With the end of the Cold Peace, your sister will be free."

  The Queen couldn't lie, Emma knew. Still, she felt that somehow they were being tricked. Looking around, she could tell from the uneasy expression of the others that she wasn't the only one with that thought. And yet . . .

  "You wish to seize the Unseelie Lands?" said Julian. "And you wish the Clave to help you do it?"

  She waved a lazy hand. "What use have I for the Unseelie Lands? I am not driven by conquest. Another shall be placed on the throne to replace the Shadow Lord, one more friendly to the concerns of Nephilim. That should interest your kind."

  "Have you someone in mind?" said Julian.

  And now the Queen smiled, really smiled, and one could forget how thin and wasted she looked. Her beauty was glorious when she smiled. "I do." She turned toward the shadows behind her. "Bring him in," she said.

  One of the shadows moved and detached itself. It was Fergus, Emma saw, as he slipped through an arched doorway and returned a moment later. Emma didn't think anyone was surprised to see who he had with him, blinking and startled and sullen-looking as ever.

  "Kieran?" said Mark, in amazement. "Kieran, King of the Unseelie Court?"

  Kieran managed to look frightened and insulted all at once. He had been put into new clothes, linen shirt and breeches and a fawn-colored jacket, though he was still very pale and the bandages wrapping his torso were visible through his shirt. "No," he said. "Absolutely not."

  The Queen began to laugh. "Not Kieran," she said. "His brother. Adaon."

  "Adaon will not want that," Kieran said. Fergus was holding the prince firmly by the arm; Kieran seemed to be pretending it wasn't happening, as a way to retain his dignity. "He is loyal to the King."

  "Then he doesn't sound very friendly to Nephilim," said Emma.

  "He hates the Cold Peace," said the Queen. "All know it; all know as well that he is loyal to the Unseelie King and accepts his decisions. But only as long as the King lives. If the Unseelie Court is defeated by an alliance of Shadowhunters and Seelie folk, it will be easy to place our choice on the throne there."

  "You make it sound so simple," Julian said. "If you do not plan on putting Kieran on the throne, why drag him in here?"

  "I have another use for him," said the Queen. "I require an envoy. One whose identity they know." She turned to Kieran. "You will be my messenger to the Clave. You will swear loyalty to one o
f these Shadowhunters, here. Because of that, and because you are the Shadow King's son, when you speak to the Council, they will know you are speaking from me, and that they will not be tricked again as they were with the liar Meliorn."

  "Kieran must agree to this plan," said Mark. "It must be his choice."

  "Well, it is his choice, certainly," said the Queen. "He can agree, or he can most likely be murdered by his father. The King does not like it when condemned captives escape him."

  Kieran muttered something under his breath and said, "I will swear loyalty to Mark. I will do as he bids me do, and follow the Nephilim for his sake. And I shall argue with Adaon for your cause, though it is his choice in the end."

  Something flickered in Julian's eyes. "No," he said. "You will not do this for Mark."

  Mark looked at his brother, startled; Kieran's expression tensed. "Why not Mark?"

  "Love complicates things," said Julian. "An oath should be free of entanglements."

  Kieran looked as if he might explode. His hair had gone completely black. With an angry look at Julian, he strode toward the Shadowhunters--and knelt in front of Cristina.

  Everyone looked surprised, none more than Cristina. Kieran tossed his dark hair back and looked up at her, a challenge in his eyes. "I swear fealty to you, Lady of Roses."

  "Kieran Kingmaker," said Mark, looking at Kieran and Cristina with an absolutely unreadable look in his eyes. Emma couldn't blame him. He must be constantly waiting for Kieran to remember what he had forgotten. She knew he would be dreading the pain the memories would bring them both.

  "I am not doing this because of Adaon or the Cold Peace," said Kieran. "I am doing it because I want my father dead."

  "Reassuring," muttered Julian, as Kieran rose to his feet.

  "It is settled, then," said the Queen, looking satisfied. "But so that you understand: You may promise my assistance and my goodwill to the Council. But I will not make war on the Shadow Throne until I hold the Black Volume."

  "What if he makes war on you?" Julian said.

  "He will make war on you first," said the Queen. "That much I know."

  "What if we don't find it?" said Emma. "The book, I mean."

  The Queen sliced her hand lazily through the air. "Then the Clave will still have my goodwill," she said. "But I will not add my folk to their army until I have the Black Volume."

  Emma looked at Julian, who shrugged, as if to say he hadn't expected the Queen to say anything else.

  "There is one last thing," said Julian. "Helen. I don't want to wait for the Cold Peace to be over to get her back."

  The Queen looked briefly annoyed. "There are things I cannot do, little Nephilim," she snapped, and it was the first thing she'd said that Emma really believed.

  "You can," he said. "Swear that you will insist to the Clave that Helen and Aline be your ambassadors. Once Kieran has finished his duty and given your message to the Council, his role is ended. Someone else will have to go back and forth from Faerie for you. Let it be Helen and her wife. They will have to bring them back from Wrangel Island."

  The Queen hesitated a moment, and then inclined her head. "You understand, they have no reason to do as I say unless they are awaiting aid from me and mine," she said. "So when you have the Black Volume, yes, you may make that a condition of my assistance. Kieran, I authorize you to make such a demand, when the time comes."

  "I will make it," said Kieran, and looked at Mark. Emma could almost read the message in his eyes. Though not for you.

  "Lovely," said the Queen. "You could be heroes. The heroes who ended the Cold Peace."

  Cristina stiffened. Emma remembered the other girl saying to her, It has always been my hope that one day I might be part of brokering a better treaty than the Cold Peace. Something more fair to Downworlders and those Shadowhunters who might love them.

  Cristina's dream. Mark and Julian's sister. Safety for the Blackthorns when Helen and Aline returned. The Queen had offered them all their desperate hopes, their secret wishes. Emma hated to be afraid, but at that moment, she was afraid of the Queen.

  "Is it finally settled, fussing children?" asked the Queen, her eyes glowing. "Are we agreed?"

  "You know we are." Julian almost flung the words. "We'll start looking, though we have no idea where to begin."

  "People go to the places that mean something to them." The Queen cocked her head to the side. "Annabel was a Blackthorn. Learn about her past. Know her soul. You have access to the Blackthorn papers, to histories no one else can touch." She rose to her feet. "Some of my folk visited them once when they were young and happy. Fade had a house in Cornwall. Perhaps it still stands. There could be something there." She began to descend the steps. "And now it is time to speed your journey. You should return to the mundane world before it is too late." She had reached the foot of the steps. She turned, magnificent in her finery, her imperiousness. "Come in!" she called. "We have been awaiting you."

  Two figures appeared in the doorway of the room, flanked on either side by knights in the Queen's livery. One Emma recognized as Nene. There was a look on her face, one of respect and even a little fear, as she came in. She was escorting beside her the formidable figure of Gwyn ap Nudd. Gwyn wore a formal doublet of dark velvet, against which his massive shoulders strained.

  Gwyn turned to Mark. His eyes, blue and black, fixed on him with a look of pride. "You saved Kieran," he said. "I should not have doubted you. You did everything I could have asked of you, and more. And now, for one last time, you will ride with me and the Wild Hunt. I shall take you to your family."

  *

  The five of them followed the Queen, Nene, and Gwyn down a series of tangled corridors until one ended in a sloping tunnel down which blew fresh, cool air. It opened into a green space: There was no sign of trees, only grass studded with flowers, and above them the night sky whirling with multicolored clouds. Emma wondered if it was still the same night that they'd arrived at the Seelie Court, or if a whole day had passed underground. There was no way of knowing. Time in Faerie moved like a dance whose steps she didn't know.

  Five horses stood in the clearing. Emma recognized one as Windspear, Kieran's mount, who he had ridden into battle with Malcolm. He whinnied when he caught sight of Kieran, and kicked at the sky.

  "This is what the phouka promised me," Mark said in a low voice. He stood behind Emma, his eyes fixed on Gwyn and the horses. "That if I came to Faerie, I would ride with the Wild Hunt again."

  Emma reached out and squeezed his hand. At least for Mark, the phouka's promise had come true without a bitter sting in its tail. She hoped the same for Julian and Cristina.

  Cristina was approaching a red roan, which skittishly kicked at the dirt. She murmured softly to the horse until it calmed, and swung herself up onto its back, reaching to stroke the horse's neck. Julian pulled himself onto a black mare whose eyes were an eerie green. He looked unfazed. Cristina's eyes were glowing with delight. She met Emma's gaze and grinned as if she could barely contain herself. Emma wondered how long Cristina must have dreamed of riding with a faerie host.

  She hung back, waiting to hear Gwyn call her name. Why were there only five horses, not six? She got her answer when Mark swung himself up onto Windspear and reached down to pull Kieran up after him. The elf-bolt around Mark's throat gleamed in the multicolored starlight.

  Nene came up to Windspear then, and reached for Mark's hands, ignoring Kieran. Emma couldn't hear what she was whispering to him, but there was deep pain on her face; Mark's fingers clung to hers for a moment before he released them. Nene turned and went back into the hill.

  Silent, Kieran settled himself into place behind Mark, but he didn't touch the other boy.

  Mark half-turned in his seat. "Are you worried?" he asked Kieran.

  Kieran shook his head. "No," he said. "Because I am with you."

  Mark's face tightened. "Yes," he said. "You are."

  Beside Emma, the Queen laughed softly. "So many lies in just three words," she said.
"And he did not even say 'I love you.' "

  A dart of anger went through Emma. "You would know lies," she said. "In fact, if you ask me, the biggest lie the Fair Folk have ever told is that they don't tell them."

  The Queen drew herself up. She seemed to be looking down at Emma from a great height. The stars wheeled behind her, blue and green, purple and red. "Why are you angry, girl? I have offered you a fair bargain. Everything you might desire. I have given you fair hosting. Even the clothes on your back are Faerie clothes."

  "I don't trust you," Emma said flatly. "We bargained with you because we had no choice. But you have manipulated us every step of the way--even the dress I'm wearing is a manipulation."

  The Queen arched an eyebrow.

  "Besides," Emma said, "you allied yourself with Sebastian Morgenstern. You helped him wage the Dark War. Because of the war, Malcolm got the Black Volume and my parents died. Why shouldn't I blame you?"

  The Queen's eyes raked Emma, and now Emma could see in them what the Queen had been at pains to hide before: her anger, and her viciousness. "Is that why you have set yourself as the protector of the Blackthorns? Because you could not save your parents, you will save them, your makeshift family?"

  Emma looked at the Queen for a long moment before she spoke. "You bet your ass it is," she said.

  Without another glance at the ruler of the Seelie Court, Emma stalked off toward the horses of the Hunt.

  *

  Julian had never much liked horses, though he'd learned to ride them, as most Shadowhunters did. In Idris, where cars didn't work, they were still the main form of transportation. He'd learned on a crabby pony that kept blowing out its sides and darting under low-hanging branches, trying to knock him off.

  The horse Gwyn had given him had a dark look in its ghastly green eyes that didn't bode much better. Julian had braced himself for a lurching plunge upward, but when Gwyn gave the order, the horse simply glided up into the air like a toy lifted on a string.

  Julian gasped out loud with the shock of it. He found his hands plunging into the horse's mane, gripping hard, as the others shot up into the air around him--Cristina, Gwyn, Emma, Mark and Kieran. For a moment they hovered, shadows under the moonlight.