by Melissa Marr
Then he changed direction and ran.
Creed turned to Roan. “Can you do this? Lily was with her and . . .”
Roan shook his head. “We’ll be fine. Go.”
And Creed ran as fast as he could after the Unseelie fae. He wasn’t sure he’d ever moved so quickly in his life, but seeing the seemingly imperturbable fae so panic-stricken was terrifying. Whatever had happened was dire, and Lily was with the queen as far as anyone knew. If the queen was in peril or dead, Lily . . . was . . . Creed couldn’t even allow himself to think whatever would finish that thought.
He ran.
They crossed unfamiliar landscape and eventually entered a vast palace. Rhys didn’t look back at him, and Creed didn’t have the breath to run and speak up to say he was still there. He was simply grateful that he had air as his affinity because without that, he wasn’t sure he would be able to breathe at all by the time they reached a garden where the Seelie king and his guards all spun to face them.
Swords were unsheathed in a symphony of slithering sounds.
“Where is the queen?” Rhys stalked past them all until he stopped directly in front of the king and added, “I can’t find her.”
“Did you look at—”
“I can’t find her,” Rhys stressed. “No air can touch her. Wherever she is, I can’t find her.”
“I left her with our granddaughter.” Leith frowned.
Creed felt his heart sink further at that. It didn’t mean that Lily was hurt too. It couldn’t. She had to be fine.
Rhys repeated again, “There’s no place in the Hidden Lands where I can’t find her. Ever. In my life.”
The king scowled. “Obviously . . . she’s . . .” His words drifted. “That’s not possible. I can’t find her. The only reason for that is . . .”
The king and Unseelie prince exchanged a look, but neither finished the sentence. There was no real need. Creed could only think of one possibility: the queen wasn’t in this world. That meant she was in the human world or dead. It was the only logical answer, and Rhys had already said he’d looked in the human world.
“You looked over there,” the king half asked.
Rhys didn’t dignify that with an answer. He just stared at Leith. “The air touches everything. The only place I’ve ever not been able to find her is under the sea, but after today, it would be peculiar to take LilyDark for a swim when they’ve only just arrived here.”
The King of Fire and Truth was suddenly as terrifying as any being could be. “We will find her.”
He looked around, seemingly sizing them up, and pronounced, “I need water affinities. Ask the sea. If she’s in . . . if she and my granddaughter are in the sea . . . Find them.”
Leith bellowed, “Where are my sons? And where are my loyal fae?”
The line he drew between his sons and his loyal fae struck Creed, but he said nothing.
“What are your friends? My other granddaughter . . . Violet? She’s only fire. You are not water either.” He glanced at Creed, paused for a heartbeat to smile. “Air and compulsion. My court. Welcome, boy . . . but not what I need right now.”
“Her affinity is earth too,” Creed ventured. “Like Lily.”
“Earth . . . maybe they’re under the earth,” Leith echoed in a shaky voice. “Water and earth affinities too. Where are my loyal? Find my wife.”
The realization that there were few reasons to take Lily to sea and fewer still to be under the earth where no moving air could touch their skin was settling on all of them. If they were swimming, they would surface to breathe. If they were in an earthen space exploring, air would still move there. There were no good reasons for the queen and Lily to be unable to be touched by air.
“Father!” Calder ran toward them with the sort of fright in his expression that made Creed want to learn every prayer in every tongue.
“Wh—”
“Eilidh,” Calder interrupted before the king could finish a single word. “She’s . . . you need . . . come. Just come, and quickly.”
Leith was moving even as Calder spoke. He gestured to Creed and Rhys and ordered, “Come.”
forty-four
EILIDH
Eilidh had left her beloved in a shelter of vines. It was not enough, but he would be safer there. She was going to make them all safe.
As she walked, fae after fae whose impure thoughts she heard by way of soil or air were imprisoned or struck down. They were her enemies if they did not want peace. They were imprisoned in cages of vines and serpents if they had doubts. Those few who had worked against peace were simply ended. Air stopped flowing for them.
They would learn to obey or die. The humans at the pier who thought ill were not released from the waves. She’d asked the sea to keep those who were hers safe.
Her affinities needed her to be as blade severing the weak or diseased. It was like the purifying fire in the forests. The deadwood was turned to ashes that would strengthen the soil. That was what Eilidh had to do. She had to protect the strong, to create a world where her family was safe.
But someone had hurt her family.
She walked through the Hidden Lands until she felt them there—and she helped. She could feel the earth hardening over them like a shell. Soil was pressing together as tightly as any stone could be.
“Stop,” Lily implored her. “Please. We aren’t safe in here either.”
Eilidh heard the words, the plea for safety. She would keep them safe. It was her duty.
Serpents came from the corners of the land. Thorn-laden vines twisted over the hardening mound of earth that sheltered the queen and the heir.
Not our queen. Neither. Earth and air objected to her naming of those in the safety of soil.
“Mine,” Eilidh argued. It didn’t matter who or what they were. All that mattered was that they were her own. They were two of the fae Eilidh had held before herself. They were those whom she sacrificed and bled for, and they had to be kept safe.
Another, one who did not wish them safety, tried to come near. He brought with him other despoilers. They claimed to want the safety of the fae, but they were traitorous in their selfishness. They were shedding blood, opposing peace. Eilidh sent a thunderous wave of air outward, knocking them backward, sending them far from the place she now guarded.
Within this earthen mound were the two who could make peace happen. Eilidh would let no one near them.
“You are safe,” she told them, words dropping through the soil. There were few words she could speak, but those, those words were sacred. “You are safe.”
The rain fell from the sky, dampening earth, and wind brushed her skin. “Safe,” she told the Hidden Lands as she summoned fire from her body.
She would destroy any who opposed the peace she sought. The Hidden Lands demanded her protection. These fae women who shared her blood required her protection. Eilidh would keep them all safe.
forty-five
CREED
Why fae ever believed themselves subtle was beyond him. He could follow what they were saying with their pauses in place. The queen and Lily were either under the water or earth. They were unconscious or otherwise trapped because no air was touching them.
Whoever was opposed to Lily’s coronation had gone even further than he had in the human world. At this point, Lily’s father was in the hospital, and Lily was trapped. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. He refused to believe he could be alive in a world without her. The thought was too much for him to even consider—but if that were the case, he was going to find the person responsible and destroy him.
The king, who was leading their peculiar group, seemed to be of the same mind. Anyone who thought that the Seelie King and Unseelie Queen were only married for political reasons would quickly revise that stance if they saw his current rage. Perhaps the queen was usually the one who handled matters of violence, but there was no doubt that the King of Fire and Truth was quite capable of it.
Of course, so too was the Unseelie prince. Rhys
looked like he was ready to slaughter even those with him. Creed couldn’t determine whether it was worry over his mother or duty to his people or fury that anyone would strike the queen. He suspected it was all of the above.
As they walked, the first group of fae who’d answered the king’s summons assured him the queen was not in the water.
“Neither is the new princess,” one added hurriedly.
The king and Rhys didn’t slow their steps. Creed kept pace.
“Earth!” said several fae as they ran toward the small group. “They’re in the earth.”
“Well, get them out then!” bellowed the king.
The eight faeries who’d all joined the group began to speak at once. All Creed could get out of the sudden cacophony was that the earth was refusing.
“The soil won’t turn,” said one.
“Try harder.” Rhys lifted his sword, tip scraping the faery’s throat and drawing drops of blood.
They all continued on. No one seemed able to get the earth to release the queen or Lily, and both the king and prince were increasingly loud in their demands to do so.
“Is everyone inept?” the king finally yelled. “Find me fae who are capable, or I will make the queen’s rage seem like laughter.”
By the time they reached the spot where the queen and Lily were entombed, Creed thought that tempers could rise no higher. He was only holding on to his because there was nothing he could do to make anything happen any faster than an irate faery king and prince could.
That changed when he saw the mound.
In front of him, the earth was littered with arrows. Blood darkened the soil in several places. Lily’s sword was half-buried in a giant hill of soil that was covered with still-growing plants. The plants twined together into a treelike structure that was almost as wide as the mound itself. Still, it grew.
Among those plants, a veritable knot of hissing serpents writhed.
“They’re guarding it,” Creed said.
Whatever had happened here, the earthen mound was either a trap or a shelter. Either way, it was secure, and the earth seemed unwilling to release its captives even as the earth-affinity fae who had come tried to force it to do so.
Creed shoved air at the snakes, knocking them away as best he could. They gripped the plants as if their sinuous bodies were tentacles. It was unnatural.
The king made a gesture with his hand and exhaled, and a cloud of fire torched the plants atop the mound. As they burned, Creed saw the shape of a woman in the fire. She was at the center of the plants, had been hidden by the greenery and size of the still growing mass.
“Stop!”
Even as it burned, the vines and branches grew. The woman inside them didn’t seem to notice. She stood as the fire ignited her.
“Eilidh?” Rhys stepped closer, walking near enough that the fire flared out at him like a hand to shove him back. He stumbled. “Eilidh!”
The king stepped around him and strode up to the fire. It was his affinity, flames of his own making. They retracted into him in a blink as if they’d never been there.
Creed didn’t know what else to do. He dropped to the ground and started clawing it away with his hands. It was slow, but it was working. “Help me!”
Faeries joined him, scraping the dirt away with only their hands as tools.
One faery tried to use his affinity, and the mound started growing larger. Dirt they’d removed raced toward the pile. Half of their small amount of progress was undone in a heartbeat.
“No magic! Use your hands only,” Creed ordered.
The king and prince could figure out what to do about the snakes and plants and silent princess. Creed was going to get to Lily. That was all he could think to do.
forty-six
ZEPHYR
When Eilidh had encased Torquil in plants and fled, Zephyr was torn between following her and trying to free Torquil. He let out a cry of frustration. Everything was going wrong of late. He wasn’t sure where Lily was, and he was sworn to protect her. He couldn’t keep Eilidh safe, and his father had tasked him with that duty as well. And, in all truth, he wasn’t sure he could stop the princess. Getting Torquil free was the only answer he had in that moment.
He reached out to touch the plants, calling upon his affinity and asking them to release their captive. Nothing happened. He drew his sword and tried to sever the vines. Between affinity and brute force, Zephyr managed to free a now-scratched and bleeding Torquil.
“Are you—”
“We must get to Eilidh,” Torquil interrupted in a grim tone.
They followed Eilidh until they found a bunch of fae-bloods and several full fae in the forest. Not shockingly, Nacton was there. Oddly, though, he was reprimanding several fae and fae-bloods who had appeared to be trying to leave.
They still stopped Zephyr and Torquil, but they appeared reluctant.
“Why?” Zephyr asked. There were a number of questions bundled into that question—Why was he here? Why was he killing humans?—but at the bottom of it all, they all boiled down to why.
Torquil’s hand was unsteady as he lifted his sword. There was little chance that he could best Nacton and the fae strangers with him. As Zephyr glanced at them, he saw many of them retreating. Others were looking around in fear.
After a moment, Nacton raised his sword to Torquil. “I don’t have reason to fight you, Torquil.”
Torquil shrugged. “You are standing in opposition to what is best for our people. I have reason.”
Nacton looked down for a moment, as if he were considering options.
“She tortured Calder,” Torquil remarked in a mild tone. “Do you think you would be safe from her temper?”
As Nacton lifted his gaze, he seemed unsteady. “In her state . . . I’m not sure any of us are safe.”
“What do you mean?” Torquil asked.
Nacton glanced behind him. “She’d not Eilidh anymore.”
Torquil swung his blade as Nacton did the same. There was little chance of even identifying the attacks they were exchanging. The clash of steel on steel seemed nonstop, with barely a moment between strikes. Both fae were aggressive, and there was nothing Zephyr could do but hope or try to get free of the other attackers to try to find Eilidh.
The others all appeared to be leaving or hanging back.
Zephyr looked away from them just as the fae-bloods who had set fire to the Row House tossed a ball of fire at him. It was showy and petulant, a blatant look-at-me move, but it was also effective. This fae was not so hesitant to fight. He had Zephyr’s full attention.
Unlike at the Row House, however, here Zephyr was far from unarmed. He lifted the sword his father had given him. “I’m not going to stand here and play games.”
Zephyr kept his gaze on the fae-blood. “Did you know about the attack on Alkamy?”
Nacton was the one who answered, “My sister was to be safe. They were to kill you.”
The shock of his revelation made Zephyr swivel to look at the Seelie prince. The bullet had been meant for him. Alkamy was dead because they were trying to kill him. He froze.
And in that moment, the fae-blood kicked Zephyr in the side of his knee. If his reflexes had been much slower, it would’ve taken him to the ground, but he’d been training with Rhys. As it was, it still made Zephyr stumble into a tree.
“Why?” The fae-blood repeated the earlier question. “Not all of us had the good luck you did. You want us to declare peace with humans? You wouldn’t be so willing to do so if you had to truly deal with the poisons they pour into the earth.”
There was no rational way to discuss any of it with him tossing handfuls of fire at Zephyr.
He dodged them, trying to get close enough to knock the fae-blood down. Both of Zephyr’s affinities—earth and water—were useful in combating fire, but he wasn’t sure about drawing on them while keeping an eye on the other fae-blood.
He reached to earth as he twisted to avoid another flame, but when he did so, he heard words he was
hoping he misunderstood.
“Ours,” the soil insisted.
“Let me go,” Lily’s voice argued.
“Endellion called. We protect,” stone and soil said in a heavy rolling voice that called to mind mudslides.
“I need air,” Lily’s voice rumbled through the soil like a yell. “She needs air.”
Zephyr heard enough to call to Torquil. “I know what Eilidh is doing. The queen is trapped. With Lily.”
Nacton looked at Torquil for a moment longer than necessary. “I didn’t mean to strike the queen.” He lowered his sword. “Only the girl.”
“No!” the fae-blood yelled. “What are you doing?”
The Seelie prince ignored his son and told Torquil, “If I stop you, Eilidh will kill me. If I don’t, my father will when he learns that I shot the queen.”
“You shot the queen?”
“It got out of hand, Torquil.” Nacton sighed, but he lowered his sword.
Zephyr walked past all of them. He understood the hesitation at accepting peace. The world was being destroyed, and there was a part of him that fundamentally understood the urge to destroy those responsible for the destruction. But there wasn’t a cause he’d ever put ahead of his family.
He shoved through the trees and followed the sounds in the earth until he came to a mound. Creed was on his hands and knees with a bunch of faeries scraping away at the dirt, and Eilidh was on top of the mound dressed in fire. Rhys was trying to talk to her without getting burned. From the scorch marks all over him, that wasn’t working very well.
“Zephyr,” the king greeted.
“Torquil has stopped Nacton back there. He shot the queen and Lily,” he said bluntly, looking from the king to Creed to his father. “They’re in there. Suffocating. I can hear Lily.”
Creed dug faster. The faeries all did.
“No affinity,” Creed said, not looking up from the hole he was digging. “It makes the earth mound up further.”
Rhys looked torn between going after Nacton and trying to continue to reason with Eilidh, who was staring blankly at him.
The King of Fire and Truth looked even angrier than he had when Zephyr approached.
