by Melissa Marr
Instead he took a moment to solidify the air near them so they could not be overheard. An officer lingering near the desk frowned suddenly. Whatever listening apparatus he’d been using—or perhaps simply a more acute hearing owing to long ago fae ancestry—was thwarted by Creed’s reflexive action. He made a mental note to tell Lily’s father in the future he might want to employ a fae-blood with air affinity for that very task.
Lily caught Creed’s gaze and gave him a beatific smile.
“What?” Erik asked.
“Later,” she said, her sideways glance at her father and the lawyer saying enough that Erik nodded.
“Do you know what the trouble is?”
Erik sighed. “We’ve been trying to get Hector released since he was arrested. There’s no reason to deny him bail. They’ve been absurd, testing his blood, interrogating him, misplacing him.”
“No one told me.” Lily crossed her arms imperiously. “I’m not going to keep tolerating secrecy, Erik, from anyone.”
“Take it up with Nick,” Erik said. “Or anyone else who wants to keep things from you.”
There was something pointed in that remark, and Creed was sure Lily heard it. Quietly, he said, “Not me.”
She nodded.
“Mr. Morrison?”
An older officer stood just to his side somewhat awkwardly. There could be fae blood in him or he could be all human. Creed had no idea. What he did notice was the tense way that the man held himself.
Creed offered him an easy smile, a disarming expression that he’d relied on for years. “What’s up?”
“My daughter is a huge fan, and . . .” He broke off awkwardly, looking back at the desk where another of his colleagues was staring not-so-subtly at Lily and Erik.
Still smiling, Creed directed the officer farther away from them, affording him privacy for his uncomfortable request for his daughter. “What’s her name?”
“Lena.”
“I’ll tell you what. You figure out where my girlfriend’s bodyguard is hidden, and I’ll get you tickets for Lena for my next three concerts. Backstage for her and two friends.”
The officer—whose badge said he was M. Adams—tensed. “I—I don’t accept bribes. No one does.”
“Not a bribe,” Creed said carefully, nudging his charm a little more. He rarely used his fae charms like this, but spending the afternoon here or having Lily upset wasn’t appealing. It was a small thing to push a little compulsion toward the man, and it didn’t endanger Officer Adams. Gently, Creed said, “It’s just an extra thank you gift if you can help my girlfriend.”
After a moment, the officer turned and walked away without saying a word.
Disappointed that it hadn’t worked, Creed rejoined Lily and Erik. He hadn’t tried to use his skills for compulsion often. It was a mild affinity, barely there, but he felt it growing stronger since being healed in the Hidden Lands.
“What was that?”
Creed shrugged. “His daughter’s a fan.”
“Mr. Abernathy?” the officer at the desk said, pulling all of their eyes to him.
Nicolas inclined his head as if granting permission to speak.
“I am told that your associate is being brought up from holding.” The officer’s gaze darted toward Creed and narrowed. “They’ve located him.”
The hostility in the officer’s eyes was enough to make Creed want to draw a weapon and assume a guard position, but Lily’s hand reached out and took his. She squeezed and whispered, “Thank you.”
And at that, Creed no longer cared about one human’s anger. He’d pleased Lily. That was enough for him.
twenty-two
EILIDH
Eilidh wasn’t shocked when the half-fae boys came to her without being summoned. She’d been expecting them since she’d heard of the fire and of the attack at LilyDark and Zephyr’s school. She knew she’d be late to meet her brother, and that he wouldn’t respond well to that, but the only reason Will and Roan would come was if they knew things she needed to hear.
She would rather be finding Torquil to see if he would forgive her, but that wasn’t an option when she’d heard Roan and Will speak her name. Duty before desire; that was how the world had always worked for her. Once she saw her unwilling spies, she could then seek out her beloved.
As quickly as she was able, she raced toward the tunnel where they’d entered this time.
“I’m glad you were wise enough to avoid a public entrance,” she said when she saw them there.
“Here.” Roan extended a thick envelope. “We need to get back . . . Lily will need to know this all too.”
“She doesn’t need—”
“Lily is the heir,” Will interrupted. “She outranks all of us. All but your parents. I’m not keeping secrets from her, not even for you . . . your highness.”
Eilidh flinched briefly. She’d become so accustomed to doing as she wanted that she hadn’t thought much on her new reality. She could no longer hide as much as she’d like from Lily.
“I could solve the dilemma,” she mused, staring at them. Was the information such that their deaths were justified? She wasn’t sure, not yet. She opened the packet.
“She’d still find out. The information is waiting for her.” Will met her gaze, and Eilidh had to wonder who had sired him. Her mother had only chosen the strongest of her fae for the small group that contained her grandson and granddaughter.
At his side, Roan made a choking noise and hastily added, “We’re not trying to upset you, but Lily . . . She comes first for us.”
Eilidh ignored them and started scanning the pages. The only thing she could say for certain was that the troubles in the human world were tied to this world. The fae-bloods who were striking out were not doing so without guidance. Her emotions grew unsteady as she thought about everything she’d planned, thought about the possibility of peace. It was so near, and someone was trying to snatch it from her grasp.
Abruptly, she turned and went toward her brother. She needed to think, and plan, and then, she’d need to tell both Rhys and the regents.
The weight of the years of planning was starting to wear on her. She knew not to let her emotions become unfettered. She needed to center herself so she sought her Unseelie brother first. Not surprisingly, Rhys was standing in the yard outside their mother’s home. He wasn’t standing guard per se, but it was often where he could be found when he was worried.
“Brother, I have need of your wisdom,” Eilidh greeted him.
He looked vaguely frightened. It was a peculiar look for him, and for a moment, Eilidh worried that something else had gone wrong. Then, Rhys said, “If you need aid with Torquil, I could remind him of the laws that validate the blood debt you were claiming.”
“No. I tortured Calder,” she said gently. “Law or no law, Torquil disapproves. He was raised Seelie, friend to Calder and Nacton, friend to me . . . the then-heir of the Hidden Throne. He’s innocent, or at least as innocent as one of our kind can be.”
Rhys let out a grumble of disapproval and began wiping the blade he’d been using before her approach. “He is merely young.”
“As am I,” she reminded her brother. After a moment of hesitation, she decided that she was best served to not try to figure out this latest dilemma on her own—especially as he was as invested as she was. So, too, were her parents. They all deserved to know what she knew. Perhaps they already did. She extended the packet of pages. “Here. I need help with this . . . and telling the queen.”
He took the pages.
She flashed him a grateful smile as she gave it over.
As soon as he started reading it, he paused and frowned at her. “Where did you get this?”
“Don’t ask.”
“I did.”
Eilidh shook her head. “There is someone helping the fae-bloods stir trouble to stop the declaration of peace.”
“Obviously,” Rhys said. “You aren’t to go over there, Eilidh. Our mother would be—”
“I didn’t,” she interrupted. “I asked for information. This is it.”
Rhys stared at her until she felt like squirming, but after years of facing the Queen of Blood and Rage, Eilidh was well-practiced in hiding her discomforts. He sighed. “I will handle this. Go find Torquil and set that to rights.”
“Yes, brother,” she said gratefully.
“And sister? If I find that you are visiting that world again, I will speak to both of your parents about your security. It’s enough that you’re tempting safety by torturing Calder . . . and sending spies to the human world . . . and keeping secrets from the queen. . . .” Rhys paused, as if just realizing the extent of her list of misdeeds. He shook his head. “I would be unhappy if you were injured. Find your betrothed. Stay out of the other world and away from the Seelie princes.”
Eilidh took a breath, wanting to argue, wanting to point out that she had single-handedly found the new heir and made it so peace could be decreed. But the voice of the trees told her in rustling words that she needed to come to them.
“I will do better next time,” she promised, and then she went to find Torquil.
The sea murmured that he was not in the water. The air whispered directions. In the Hidden Lands, it was difficult to truly avoid being found by other fae. If one’s affinities were strong enough, finding what was hidden was inevitable. Eilidh’s affinities were exceptionally strong, perhaps as nature’s apology for her lack of physical strength, perhaps as a result of the way the earth and sea had saved her in her infancy.
When she found Torquil, he was at the edge of the pathway to the human world that she’d used so often. The same tree where he’d waited for her time and again over the years was where he now sat. Unlike in the past, he was not perched on a branch, but leaning at the base of the tree.
“I knew who you were years ago, Patches.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, and the simple absence of his gaze hurt. She’d never expected him to love her, never thought he could choose her. Having him turn away hurt.
“I’ve never asked you to be anything other than who you are,” he continued. “When you were lying to our queen, I held your secrets. When you were pushing me away, I accepted it until I discovered your feelings . . . and then I still waited.”
“I know.” Eilidh watched him, not knowing what else to say or do. Torquil had small relationships before her. She’d had none. This feeling of discord was wholly new to her.
“You lied to me,” he said, finally turning his gaze on her.
She opened her mouth to try to say that she hadn’t, that when the subject was broached she’d admitted what she’d done, but he spoke again before she could force the words to come to suddenly parched lips.
“You didn’t trust me,” he added.
Eilidh stepped closer, not daring to touch him but wanting to do so.
He stared at her so intently that she would have flinched if not for years of training at her mother’s side. Torquil’s voice was low and harsh as he asked, “Do you think I forgot who your parents were? That I suddenly didn’t know all of the lessons you had to learn to be the next queen? Do you think I would be left shocked that you are following the old laws?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. All she’d truly thought was that she hated what needed doing, and she didn’t want to let Torquil know. Had she thought he’d understand? She couldn’t honestly answer that.
“When I was first invited to be your playmate, the queen and the king both pulled me aside to speak to me. The king asked me to look after you, to be a confidant. The queen . . . was less kind. She informed me that you needed to be strong and that I was not to weaken you, but she made clear that she trusted me to be a softening influence when your duties were too harsh. I was the one who was to let you weep or remind you to laugh or whatever you needed. She suffered my presence, my oh-so-Seelie nature, because she thought you would need to be fire-honed so you could be sword-edged, as she is.”
Eilidh drew a shuddering breath.
“I expected that there would be worse before us if you had become queen. I expected that when I chose you as my wife, and I accepted that.”
“Are you disappointed that I won’t be queen?” She hated asking, but it was a thought she’d had more than once. She didn’t believe that he cared about power, but she was still unsure as to why he’d chosen her when there were so many others more beautiful, more elegant, more everything. His loving her made no sense.
Torquil laughed, but not in true humor. His voice was just as bitter as his laughter as he said, “I am going to fear that you don’t know me at all soon, Patches.”
Tears blurred the edge of her vision. She had no idea how to do this, how to make him understand that she was trying to be what she must and what she was all at once. She didn’t want to lose him, but she couldn’t pretend to be other than who she was.
In violation of every rule of etiquette they’d observed so carefully up to this point, Torquil’s hands gripped her hips. She let out a gasp as he pulled her closer. He was assertive in dreams, but never in the waking world. With daylight, he had been a proper Seelie fae, suitable to keep company with the daughter of his king. She preferred this.
Eilidh looked up at him. They were close enough that she could feel each of his breaths on her face as they stood together in silence. They’d shared closer space in their conjoined dreams, but in the waking world, propriety was the default.
“I wasn’t interested in marrying the queen,” he said. “I was . . . I am interested in marrying you.”
“Still?”
“Still.”
Eilidh felt like whatever had been holding her upright since he’d been stabbed snapped. All of the tears she’d tried to suppress rose up like the waves had done at her behest. Now, though, her tears called the rain.
As they stood there, they were soon drenched. She felt like the skies were soothing her, like they were weeping the tears that sometimes threatened to choke her. It wasn’t the mad crashing of waves that she summoned when she was anger-filled, but it was a blissful feeling of release all the same.
Torquil pulled her tighter into his embrace, and she rested her face against his chest, clutching his shirt and holding him to her. His hands soothed her, stroking her hair and back as he murmured, “Shhhh. Everything is fine, love. Shhhh.”
When she was finally able to speak, she told him, “I needed them to know that I was every bit her daughter, that I would not stop at an angry word if they hurt my own. Not just you but Lily too. I need to be able to keep you all safe.”
“I know,” Torquil assured her. “I am safe.”
“And Rhys,” she added. “I want to protect him too.”
Despite how foolish that might be, Eilidh wanted to shelter Rhys as he did her. Her eldest brother was more than adept at protecting himself, and he’d undoubtedly be amused to think of her wanting to defend him, but he was her brother, her defender, and the only member of her fae family who had offered her acceptance and love.
“Of course,” Torquil said in the same soothing tone, still caressing her comfortingly. “You did what you thought necessary to guard your loved ones. I have no judgment there, Patches. I understand why you—”
“It was awful,” she blurted out uncharacteristically, but now that she was crying in his arms, she couldn’t seem to keep anything back. “Hurting Calder was . . . awful. I hated it.”
There weren’t words enough to express the horror she’d felt, the pain it had caused her to know that he’d never forgive her, that she shouldn’t be forgiven, but she couldn’t let his action go unanswered. Unlike Calder, she was Seelie and Unseelie.
“No more secrets,” Torquil said quietly. “That’s all I need, Eilidh. You shouldn’t hide things from me. You don’t need to. Ever. You do as you must, and I will accept it. I did accept it long before I declared myself to you, but don’t lie to me. Don’t deceive me. That I won’t accept.”
Eilidh lifted her head from his chest and nodded. Then
she stretched up onto her toes so she could reach and kissed him, not as fully as she did in their dreams but in a way that made her feelings clear to any and all who might be watching. She didn’t see any fae nearby, but she knew as well as he did that they were as likely as not to be under someone’s surveillance.
When she dropped back to the flat of her feet, he said only, “Have the rules changed?”
“Let them talk,” she said. “If I want to kiss my intended, I should be able to do so. Everything feels so close to disaster. Everything but you. Us . . .”—she looked up at him—“this is what’s good in my world. So kiss me.”
He smiled and then he did exactly what she ordered.
twenty-three
LILYDARK
Lily watched Hector walk through the police station toward them with a mix of relief and fury. He had a swollen eye, a bandage around his arm where they’d obviously drawn blood, and he was limping. She leveled a glare at the human officer who’d been at her door and was currently escorting Hector out of wherever he’d been imprisoned within the bowels of the building.
“Stand down,” Daidí said sternly.
At first, Lily glanced at Erik, who merely grinned and raised his brows at her. With a start, she realized that Daidí was talking to her. It wasn’t a tone that allowed for any argument, however, so she held her tongue. She might be the future queen of faeries, but she was still her father’s daughter. And this was Abernathy business, not fae. That made it his to manage. Perhaps, it always would be solely his.
With some sadness, Lily realized that she’d sacrificed his empire. She wasn’t sure she could manage to rule the Hidden Lands and a criminal enterprise, and even if she could, she wasn’t sure it was fair to anyone for her to try to do so. It broke her heart a little.
She leaned her head on her father’s shoulder and said, “Yes, Daidí.”
