by Melissa Marr
Outside the room, some of the people had started to realize something was truly wrong. The smoke wasn’t thick yet, and Zephyr couldn’t help but think of the way the diamonds had been trained to keep people calm long enough to create the most devastation in an attack. Panic resulted in people escaping. When they’d been sent to create terror, the objective was maximum destruction. This—this was someone with ties to the Hidden Lands.
Creed glanced at Lily. “Are you leaving or staying with Zeph?”
“There are only three of us with water,” Lily pointed out. “I stay with him.”
Zephyr startled at that. “If the place burns, it’s just a building. If you get hurt . . .”
“You think she’d be okay with you getting hurt?” Lily asked.
“Why is anyone staying?” Alkamy crossed her arms.
“Because the fire isn’t an accident,” Will said.
“Which is why I should stay.” Violet pulled on a jacket and tapped the seam where he assumed she had a knife concealed.
“The building is on fire. Can we argue outside?” Roan suggested.
Zephyr looked at all of them. “Out. The four of you out. Creed, I know you stay with LilyDark, but you’re more use outside too.”
Creed looked at Lily who nodded, and in the next minute, everyone but Lily had gone. They joined the crowd moving toward the exit, and Zephyr could tell that someone—probably Creed or Will—was moving the air so the growing cloud of smoke wasn’t as oppressive.
He and Lily were the last people in the VIP room. With the future queen of both the Unseelie and Seelie at his side, Zephyr stepped into the increasingly smoky main room.
“I hate the lack of a sword,” she said.
He could smell the tinge of metal and gunpowder that said she’d drawn a weapon that no true fae would use. Zephyr didn’t like guns, not the crudity or the quickness of them. Swords and affinities were deadly too, but there was less honor in pulling a trigger.
Zephyr drew on the water he could feel in the pipes in the walls. It was sluggish, as if there were blockages, but it was there. He’d been working on getting more comfortable with water since he’d discovered an affinity for it. It wasn’t as intuitive as earth was, but it would be more useful at extinguishing fire.
“This way,” Lily said, gesturing toward the corner where a DJ often sat.
Finding other fae-blood intuitively was an ability none of them possessed, except Lily. Zephyr suspected it was because Lily was now tied to them as their future queen, or maybe it was a consequence of the crown she wore. All of her affinities were stronger since she’d let it sink into her skin like a tattoo.
The air was hazier by the moment. His affinities were earth and water, though, so he wasn’t able to do much about it. He coughed and asked, “Air?”
A breeze of clean air surged toward them, like a ribbon of purity in the grayness that was starting to make his throat itch and eyes burn. He wasn’t sure how much time they had to find the attacker. He looked for shapes in the smoke.
“This way,” Lily announced, catching his hand and tugging him along with her.
Zephyr wasn’t sure if she was leading him to the fire or the fae-blood. He was grateful that she steered him around tables and chairs that had been knocked down in people’s haste to leave. He was even more grateful that there weren’t any bodies on the ground—at least, not so far.
There was a person in the haze suddenly. Flames flashed upward, making the smoky air glow. Zephyr could see burn marks on tables and the floor where fires had ignited and been put out.
“You’re slow,” a boy said. He was pretending to be bored, but his voice betrayed his excitement.
Zephyr concentrated on the water in the old pipes in the walls. He could feel the rust on the pipes, the bends and twists as they wound through the walls. There was an obstacle. He could feel it.
“I thought you’d all come.” The fae-blood looked at them both and sighed. “Not just you two.”
Unlike many of the diamonds, Lily was less inclined toward being a smart-ass and more inclined toward confrontation. Zephyr wasn’t surprised when she released his hand and lifted a gun.
“There’s no reason I shouldn’t shoot you.”
Instead of backing down, the boy laughed, albeit a little nervously. “You really are the Unseelie Queen’s kin, aren’t you?”
“We both are,” Zephyr said. He glanced at the boy, but his attention was on the pipes. They’d been seared, so they were melted and impassable in various points. That was why the water was so sluggish.
“Who are you?” Lily asked. The gun was still unwavering in her hand.
Zephyr couldn’t help wondering why a name even mattered. “What do you want?”
The fae-blood lifted his hand as if to indicate that he didn’t know, but then he said, “To let her know that there’s no way this truce is going to happen.” The fae-blood grinned.
“Who are you?” Lily repeated.
He laughed, fire rolling out of his mouth like he was some mythical beast. It was a clever trick, using his own air to steer the fire kindled in his hand.
The pipes above them groaned. Zephyr felt Lily add her own force to his, and the pipes began to crack. They couldn’t unmelt them, but they could break them. Water started to soak the walls, preventing them from burning. Soon the water would seep through the walls and onto the floor.
“You’ve been the one burning places?” Lily asked.
He smiled.
“You’re just a fae-blood,” Zephyr said. “Do you think you can stand against the queen?”
“She’s not here, is she? No. She’s safe in her little world while we are here in the filth, in the pollution they’ve created. She used us while she and her fae stayed where they’re safe while we are left in this diseased world. She has no business declaring peace.”
Lily lowered the gun and pulled Zephyr closer to her side. He felt the water rolling toward them as soon as she touched his hand. Whatever strengthening the crown gave her, Zephyr felt it too now.
But it wasn’t only water that answered when they’d touched. Earth heard their summons, and soil followed water. In less than a moment, the fire was being extinguished by a wall of mud. The fae-blood was setting everything he could on fire, and the room grew thick with smoke, ash, and mud.
The wall started to shudder, and Zephyr couldn’t decide whether it was better to release Lily’s hand to stop the intensity of the call to their affinities, or if doing so would mean they’d be overcome.
His answer came when a wall started toppling.
The fae-blood shoved Lily toward the debris. She fell into the mud and water, and Zephyr scrambled after her.
“Thanks for the help,” the fae-blood called out. “I couldn’t have created nearly this much destruction on my own.”
Then he was gone, clambering over the mess and vanishing as Zephyr pulled Lily to her feet.
She shoved him. “Go! Catch him.”
But the idea of leaving the queen’s heir alone was ludicrous at best. He’d far rather face Lily’s anger than Endellion’s if Lily were injured on his watch. He ignored his cousin, and together they left the wreck of the bar.
As they stepped outside, the rest of the diamonds gathered around them, and Zephyr saw his father standing off to the side. He handed Lily over to their friends and went toward the shadows where Rhys waited.
“You are intact?”
Zephyr nodded.
“And the princess?”
“Is fine,” Zephyr said.
He filled his father in on everything that had happened. When he was done, Zephyr watched as his father’s normally placid expression shifted to simmering rage.
“Father?”
Unexpectedly, Rhys clasped his forearm. “I would be unhappy if you were grievously injured. You will be alert.”
It was as much of an expression of affection as Rhys had managed in Zephyr’s presence, and Zephyr smiled. He wasn’t precisely paternal, but he cared.
“I will,” Zephyr swore. “We all will.”
Rhys nodded. “I will confer with the queen. Declaring peace will be difficult if there are attacks like the ones she’s long ordered. The boy—and anyone working with him—will need to be contained.”
Then he turned and left, and Zephyr went to join his friends. The cessation of war was turning out to be far more dangerous than he’d imagined.
Meanwhile, the Black Diamonds were sopping wet, dirty, or some combination of the two. Lily and Creed looked the worst. Roan, Alkamy, and Will were scanning the crowd attentively. Violet, not surprisingly, had a short blade barely concealed at her side. Erik was standing at their side with a hand under his jacket where a gun was hidden, and in that moment, Zephyr was grateful for the extra eyes and weapons.
Was the fae-blood part of another Sleeper cell? A radical unaffiliated with the queen? Maybe there was another answer. Zephyr had no idea, but he hoped that Rhys would find one.
fourteen
EILIDH
In the Hidden Lands, Torquil woke. He wasn’t as weak as he’d first been after the fight with Calder, but it didn’t take but a glance to see that he was weaker than he should be. Usually, he radiated dark light like a small star made flesh. Instead, he was ashy and drawn. His normal glow was dim, and Eilidh was doubtful that he could defend himself properly if there were a threat of any kind.
“I know you’re here, Eilidh,” he murmured, his eyes still closed. “I don’t need to see you to know you’re near me.”
“I wasn’t hiding.” She studied him, wishing he’d let her use her affinity to heal him all at once. It would exhaust her in many ways, but so too did seeing him in pain.
“You’re lurking in the doorway.”
She stepped farther into the room. It was unnerving to see him so still in the bed. She’d imagined him in her bed often enough, and she’d been there with him in their linked dreams, but this was something very different. Seeing him brought low—by her brother’s blade no less—was terrifying.
“I wish you would let me heal you,” she said for at least the twentieth time. It wasn’t a skill she used often, but she could do it. She’d started to heal Torquil, but her father, the King of Fire and Truth, had pulled her away as soon as he realized what she was about.
When Torquil had opened bleary eyes that first day, he chastised her for taking his wound in any degree. She didn’t pull it into her body, but she pressed her energy and strength into his so his healing would accelerate. Her affinity wasn’t one that she could use lightly. It weakened her, and she was already physically weaker than many fae.
“I healed Lily’s beloved. Why not my own?”
“Neither Lily nor the boy know it weakens you,” Torquil argued. “If they did—”
“So if you didn’t know . . .”
“But I do, Patches.” He was one of the only people who used that name. Most people wouldn’t overtly refer to her near-death as an infant. Torquil had been the first person to suggest that her many scars were beautiful, and he’d been the only one to ever make her feel like they truly were.
He held his hand out to her. It didn’t tremble today. That was progress. Eilidh took his hand and sat at the edge of the bed where he rested under a blanket stitched of sheepskins. It was the most comforting thing she owned, warm and weighty in a way that made her feel inordinately safe. When the injured fae was carried into her home at her order, she’d covered him with it in some silly hope that it gave him the comfort it had given her over the years.
She was silent with a twist of both guilt and determination. Each day when he slept, Eilidh sped his healing a little. She didn’t heal him, not truly, merely helped him along. As with all things when it came to fae honesty, there were more degrees of truth than one.
“Has something else happened?” Torquil asked as she sat silently at his side.
Eilidh stared at the glass walls of the tower. On the ground below them, the always-watching fae couldn’t see everything. Many details were obscured, making her seem like a shadow moving through the tower. But she could see them. Her entire life had been lived while the fae studied her, weighed her decisions, measured her failures.
They didn’t see her patchwork skin as beautiful. To them, she was a broken princess, and right now, she was responsible for the fall of one of their shining lights. Torquil’s injury had brought even more Seelie-born fae to stare up at the tower. Never mind that it was the Seelie princes who had almost killed him. They watched as if he needed their protection. As they came in greater numbers, more Unseelie-born watched her, most likely because Rhys, her Unseelie brother, or the queen had ordered it.
And in the middle of all of it, they watched because she had been their future queen and now was not. Many of them believed her to be unfit for the throne, but they’d accepted it. Now, however, a girl with the taint of humanity was to protect the Hidden Lands. In many minds, that was worse than a broken princess.
“Sometimes, I want to run away,” Eilidh admitted quietly. “I want to find a silent corner of the Hidden Lands and live a life with you, away from all of them, away from court intrigue, away from murderous brothers and overprotective parents. Just us. You. Me. A little cottage where we’re alone and safe . . .”
“They didn’t kill me,” Torquil reminded her quietly. “Your brothers aren’t murderers.”
Eilidh nodded and stroked his pale hair until he slept again. There were so many other things to worry over, but he worried over her. He’d been the only person to hold her time and again when the Seelie princes were awful to her. Torquil alone knew that what she wanted most in life was to be loved, to have a family, and to protect her people.
Eilidh was grateful he didn’t know how far she would go for all of those things.
Silently, she stayed at his side, lulling him back to sleep with gentle strokes and soft words. Once he was asleep again, she nudged his wounds a little closer to healing. She was careful not to do too much too often, walking the line between helping him and getting caught doing so.
After she’d done as much as she could, coaxed muscles to heal and swelling to lower, Eilidh leaned back and took several deep breaths. Convincing the body to do as she willed was more difficult than any other affinity.
Quiet moments passed while she took comfort in being near Torquil, rejoicing that he was alive and growing stronger. Work could only wait so long, however. Eilidh sent a summons to her brother yet again. He would protect Torquil while she did what she must to ensure that injury to her loved ones was understood to be a bad idea.
“Stay with him,” she asked when Rhys arrived inside the glass tower.
He met her gaze and asked, “Will you tell me where you go when he sleeps?”
With a regretful sigh, she looked past her brother to the sea that glittered so comfortingly below the tower. There were secrets more dangerous than others to know. This was, undoubtedly, one of them.
She shook her head.
“There is trouble,” Rhys said. He told her of another fire that had threatened both Lily and Zephyr. Then he added, “Our mother sent me here to stay with you.”
“I am safe from a fae-blood, Rhys.” Eilidh shook her head. “I may be fragile, but a fae-blood? Truly?”
Rhys nodded. “I think she was more concerned about your . . . emotions.”
At that, Eilidh paused. She worked hard to keep her feelings moderate. When she was overly emotional, the sea and soil responded. She wasn’t sure if anyone else had noticed, but apparently her mother had.
Then, as if to point out that he noticed plenty too, he added, “One of the Seelie princes has been away.”
Eilidh was grateful for the years of court training. Her expression was unchanged as she watched the sea writhe. It looked so gentle from the surface, but its depths were often raging. She’d felt them, letting her affinity tie her to the waves and currents, letting the undertow take her.
“Don’t ask questions, Brother.” Eilidh glanced at him. “I d
on’t wish to attempt to lie to you.”
Rhys didn’t pause before offering, “Do you need anything?”
“Calder hurt what is mine, and I am our mother’s daughter.” Eilidh stepped around her brother and walked to the staircase.
“He is also your father’s get,” Rhys said softly. “Don’t forget that.”
Eilidh continued onward. There was nothing she forgot, not the risks or the costs. She pulled a hood up over her hair, letting it fall forward until it was like a cowl around her face, and she began to walk.
When she reached the sea, she shed her clothes and dove into the water. In a moment’s time, she was gone from even the most astute of watchers. It wouldn’t last forever. Her parents would find out. Questions would be asked. Tonight, though, as with the last several nights, she had a few brief hours of freedom, especially as the queen was undoubtedly interrogating anyone she suspected of undermining her plans for peace.
The Hidden Lands were smaller on the outside than on the inside. Technically, they were only a small series of islands near the Corryvreckan whirlpool, but the Coire Bhreacain was a magical space between the worlds that humanity knew as real and the world that the sky, soil, and sea offered to the fae when they’d been in need. The earth’s natural fire, lava, rolled into the sea where the currents cooled it and thus more isles were made. The air and waves danced together to make the whirlpool that chased away humanity.
And Eilidh had affinities of earth, fire, and water. Here, at the edge of the Coire Bhreacain, she was able to vanish for just long enough to reach her secreted cave. Until she was caught or her task completed, she could do as she must.
The cave was only accessible via the whirlpool. Eilidh crossed the water until she reached a small cleft in the rock. If one didn’t know it was there, finding it would be near impossible. The cliff had a ripple, a series of sea stacks that blocked the opening from view.
She pushed herself up and climbed up the cliff, scrambling over rocks that cut her hands and legs. Once she reached the ledge, she stood and walked inside. The only sounds were the steady drip of water within the cave and the battering of the sea outside.
