by K. A. Linde
“Are you sure?”
Darby nodded. “That’s why I got it, isn’t it?”
Kerrigan took the small pot of powder and gently brushed a hint of it across her lids. Instantly, the sweep of the kohl that winged at the edges and the brush of black paint along her lashes all came together. Her emerald-green eyes looked twice as big as normal.
“Wow,” Darby said in awe. “That suits you.”
Kerrigan swiveled around and brushed some along Darby’s nearly black lids. “It suits us both.”
Darby looked at her reflection and smiled shyly. “I suppose it does. Now, get in your dress. We’re already late to meet Hay.”
Kerrigan reached into her wardrobe and retrieved the forest-green dress. She was lucky enough to have made friends with an up-and-coming fashion designer, Parris, who liked to try out all of his styles on Kerrigan’s frame. He’d sent this one over this morning, and she was dying to see what he’d put together for the Dragon Blessed ceremony.
“You are the only person I know who can primp and preen in a skintight crushed-velvet dress and be just as happy in men’s clothing, running her fists through things.”
Kerrigan admired her figure in the slim cut of the dress. It had long, breathable lace sleeves and exposed the entire top of her shoulders. The dress had a slit up just past her knee on one side, exposing the milky white of her leg. Scandalous indeed.
“It all feels the same to me,” Kerrigan finally said.
“Like I said… the only one.”
“I can be multidimensional.”
Darby laughed. “You can. But why do you like to fight in that dreadful place?”
Kerrigan sighed. She had come back beaten up one too many times for Darby not to know that she was fighting in the Dragon Ring. Everyone else would be appalled, but Kerrigan didn’t want to stop. This was just who she was. She liked dressing up in pretty dresses as much as the fight.
“The world below, in the Wastes, it makes more sense to me,” she whispered. “It’s more… honest.”
“More honest?”
Kerrigan shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We should go. We’re late.”
Darby frowned like she wanted to say more but decided to let it pass. “All right. Put on some shoes.”
Kerrigan grabbed the soft gold flats that she preferred and followed Darby from their rooms. They almost made it to the entrance when Kerrigan realized what Darby and Hadrian had failed to tell her.
“What is he doing here?” she hissed at Darby.
Lyam stood next to Hadrian in the glow of the firelight. He fidgeted slightly. An old habit that he’d never been able to break.
“Shh,” Darby said. “Be polite. He’s still our friend.”
Kerrigan groaned. This was not the night she had signed up for.
Hadrian was in the newest fashion in crisp black breeches and a tight black jerkin. His cravat was a soft blue to complement his bright blue hair. Lyam, on the other hand, looked like he’d thrown himself together that moment. As if he hadn’t been sure whether or not he’d come with them. His jacket was askew, and he wasn’t even wearing a cravat. A sliver of his neck and chest was exposed from the unbuttoned top of his shirt.
“About time,” Hadrian said. “We were going to leave without you.”
“No, we weren’t,” Lyam said with a laugh. His eyes found Kerrigan’s, and he flushed. “You look lovely tonight.” He darted to Darby. “Both of you.”
“Why, thank you, Lyam,” Darby said, tactfully taking his arm. Thank you, Darbs. “Shall we be off?”
Hadrian offered Kerrigan his arm.
She gratefully placed her hand on his sleeve. “Yes, let’s.”
8
The Celebration
Lady Sonali of tribe Bryonica, Second of the House of Stoirm, had a magnificent mansion on the eastern banks of the valley. Her home was large enough that she had land in the city. It was a prominent feature on the Row, the wealthiest area of town that housed so much of the Fae aristocracy.
But beyond the enormous home was a sprawling estate with gardens and a beautiful courtyard. It was a splendor for the rich. While only a few streets over, children lived in poverty. Children like Hadrian had been.
He wrinkled his nose slightly as their carriage drew up to the front of the mansion. “Such extravagance.”
“This is our world now,” Darby said.
No one contradicted her. Though surely, everyone felt the same discomfort. But this was precisely what they all had been trained for in the House of Dragons. Their education was not merely in history and mathematics and magic. They had all learned the ways of the aristocracy, how to move about them without garnering notice, how to blend in. In six days, many of them would join the upper echelon of society. And parties just like this one proved the use of all that knowledge.
A footman helped them out of the carriage, and Darby offered a stiff gold invitation to the man at the door.
“Ah, Miss Darby,” he said with a short bow. “Welcome to the House of Stoirm.”
Darby beamed in excitement as they were let into the mansion on one invitation. Lyam and Hadrian tried to hide their wide-eyed stares up at the enormous crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The hall stretched on endlessly, filled to the brim with guests in elegant attire. Waiters had silver trays full of bubbly drinks in long-stemmed flutes. They were each offered one at the entrance. Kerrigan took hers greedily. It was going to be way better than the cheap booze she drank in the Wastes with Clover.
“Kerrigan, are you sure you should be drinking that?” Hadrian asked.
She held up her hand. “No lectures tonight, please. Have a few drinks, Hay. Loosen up.” She winked and then downed her own glass of bubbly.
The group stuck together as Darby led them through the house. She had been here before. She’d been invited over for tea a few times. And her discernment of the surroundings was clear.
Bryonica was the wealthiest of the twelve tribes with nearly the entire Viland territory to the eastern coast. The mansions within the capital were just the tip of the iceberg. There were four royal houses within Bryonica—Stoirm, Drame, Cruse, and Medallion. Stoirm—which Helly and Sonali were a part of—was the current ruling family. Her father’s house, Cruse, used to be the ruling line, but nearly everyone had been killed a couple hundred years ago and had fallen out of favor. Drame and Medallion were constantly intermarrying with Stoirm in the hopes of avoiding another war to claim the throne again. It was a big headache as far as Kerrigan was concerned.
A big headache that she had once been a part of. She had vague memories of castles in the Viland hills. Of dinners that lasted for hours as course after course was placed before her. Of banquets and balls set for kings. Even at five, she had been expected to act like any other noble.. She didn’t dislike the etiquette classes because she wasn’t any good at them. She hated them because they reminded her of the past.
Kerrigan blinked away the images she had plastered on top of Sonali’s home. She didn’t want to think about that. She wanted to drink until she couldn’t think about that anymore.
And then they were before Lady Sonali. She was stunning and the perfect example of a Bryonican noblewoman, dressed in the navy blues of her people. Her face unlined. Her smile coming easily.
“Darby,” she said, holding a hand out. “You made it.”
Darby executed a perfect curtsy. “My lady.”
Sonali’s expression didn’t change as her gaze slid over Hadrian, Lyam, and then Kerrigan. Kerrigan, who was accustomed to avoiding the eye of Bryonican nobility, lest they see what was hidden underneath—that she had once been one of them.
“I am so pleased you could join us. Come and sit with my ladies.”
Darby shot one desperate look at her friends. Kerrigan nodded, telling her to go. They could fend for themselves.
Kerrigan swept Lady Sonali an exquisite curtsy and then all but hustled the boys out of the hall.
“Shouldn’t we stay wi
th her?” Hadrian asked anxiously.
“No. She will be fine with the lady of the house. And we should find the harder liquor.”
“I like where your mind is at, Ker,” Lyam said.
Hadrian groaned. “You two are going to get into trouble, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” they said at the same time.
She met Lyam’s eyes, and they both laughed. She’d forgotten how easy it was to be around him. How it had been… before he confessed his feelings. Feelings she didn’t reciprocate in the slightest.
She and Lyam pulled Hadrian into a room with an impressive wine cellar. Against one wall was a long bar with every manner of drink available for the evening. Even though these fancy parties were just supposed to serve wine, most parties in the city also had some variety of faerie punch available. Potent alcohol laced with magic. They addled senses, and depending on the spell, they could make you forget the evening, lower inhibitions, cause arousal, and any number of things. Kerrigan had tried them all in small quantities. She was a firm believer in knowing what magic could do to a person and how to escape it. She also just liked the feeling of getting out of her head.
“No,” Hadrian said when he caught sight of the faerie punch bowls.
“Have wine then,” Lyam said, pushing him toward the other side of the room.
Lyam and Kerrigan waited before the row of punches.
He tapped his foot restlessly. “Ker,” he said, an anxious note in his voice.
Kerrigan glanced over at him and found him staring at her intently. “Hmm?”
“Can we talk?”
“Talk?”
“Yes… somewhere private?”
“Right now?”
“Uh… after we get our drinks?”
Panic swept through her. She didn’t want to have this talk with Lyam. She’d been avoiding him for practically an entire year. He couldn’t think that things had changed.
“I just… miss our friendship,” he said faintly.
Kerrigan softened immediately. Ugh, scales. She missed their friendship too. “Miss having someone to get in trouble with?”
“Looks like you’ve been doing just fine with that on your own.”
She shrugged. “It’s my specialty.”
“Just please… a few minutes?” he asked. His eyes were wide and blue as the ocean.
She wished that she could fall for someone like Lyam. Wished those eyes made her insides squirm. But they didn’t. He was more like her brother than anything. And he hated hearing her say that.
“Uh…”
“What would you like?” the woman working the punch asked before she could answer Lyam.
Kerrigan looked at each punch. One was pink with slices of watermelon in it. One was bright green with pineapple and cherries. One was blood red with fresh strawberries on top. She pointed at the last one.
“Don’t you want to know which spell is on them?” Lyam asked.
She shook her head. “I’ll roll the dice.”
The woman poured her a glass of the red liquid, and Kerrigan walked away before she could hear what she’d ordered. Lyam liked to walk on the wild side, but he wasn’t reckless with his health. Not after they’d accidentally gotten into the Society’s punch stores and hallucinated for days. She just figured nothing could be worse than that.
Kerrigan stood at the edge of the room waiting for Hadrian and Lyam to make their selections and find her. She didn’t want to have this talk with Lyam, but it was overdue. Maybe it would be better to get it all out in the open. Hopefully then they’d be able to get past it all.
She sighed and took a sip of her punch. Her insides immediately loosened. Her mind stopped buzzing at a million miles a minute. She knew this feeling. She’d forget the night, forget all of her problems. She stared down at the liquid in question and was about to dump the entire contents down her throat when a hand reached out and plucked the drink from her.
“Hey!” she said furiously. “What are you…” She trailed off when she looked up and saw who stood before her.
“Hello, Kerrigan,” her father said. “We need to talk.”
Kerrigan furrowed her brow and gritted her teeth. “No.”
“This way.”
Lord Kivrin Argon, First of the House of Cruse, put his hand on the sleeve of her dress and all but pushed her down the hallway. As soon as he could, he dumped the contents of her drink in a plant and discarded the cup.
She glared at him. How dare he! How dare he!
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Saving you from yourself.”
“I don’t need saving, Kivrin.”
He didn’t flinch at his name. That she’d used it instead of Father or Dad. She’d stopped calling him anything else long ago. When he relinquished the right to be her father.
He didn’t even seem to care. He just opened a door and shoved her inside some sort of music room. A harp was strung against the window. A desk sat against another wall. Lots of plush cushions were in a circle about the room for lessons. Fancy place.
“Why did you drag me in here?” she demanded. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk about the ceremony.”
“Why?”
“We need to talk about who is courting your favor.”
Again, she repeated, “Why? It’s not like you’re going to pick me.”
He looked up at her, startled. “Me? No, of course not.”
She sagged in relief. She had always feared that. That, after all this time, he’d think he still had some claim, some ownership over her. That she’d be forced back into that sad, lonely castle in Bryonica.
“Who have you been talking to?”
“I don’t have to tell you that,” she said. “It’s confidential.”
He ran a hand back through his dark hair, and she realized for the first time that her father looked… uncertain. Could he be nervous? It made no sense. He was the playboy prince. He’d abandoned her. Why should he care?
“Have you spoken to Lorian?” he finally asked.
“Master Lorian?” she asked in surprise, wondering why he would be asking about the warrior tribe. “Of tribe Venatrix?”
“Yes.”
“No, he… he hasn’t approached me. Why would he? Isn’t he vocally against human and Fae commingling? Hasn’t he shredded his own daughter apart for wanting to marry a human? He hates half-Fae. Why would he talk to me?”
“All of that is true,” he agreed. “But he hates something more than that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”
He met her gaze. “Me.”
“You? Because when you two were in the tournament? He won already.”
And you lost. She didn’t say it, but she wanted to.
Her father and Master Lorian had been in the dragon tournament together. Lorian was now in the Society, and her father was not. The end. The whole story.
“Yes, he won, and we’ve had a feud ever since,” he said evenly. “I fear that he might have discovered that I am your father.”
“And?”
“And he would take you into his household to hurt me.”
She shook her head. “Do you hear yourself? Nothing you are saying makes sense. One, wherever I go couldn’t possibly hurt you because you abandoned me. You left me at the doorstep of Draco Mountain and walked away. You have no feelings on the matter. And two, Master Lorian would never select me when he hates half-Fae. He was the person who convinced the Society to put down the rebellions five years ago. I would be a mark on his record. You have lost your mind.”
“Kerrigan,” he said evenly. “You don’t know Lorian like I do.”
“And I don’t want to. I don’t even want to know you. So… mind your own business.”
“Who?” he got out as she pushed toward the door. “Who are you speaking with?”
She ground her teeth. “Ellerby of Elsiande, if you must know.”
Kivrin froze, a look of horror crossing his face. “But you ha
ve magic. Elsiande refuses their magic. It would eat you from the inside out.”
“I’m aware of their beliefs. But it is not that simple. The younger generations are pushing back on that. They want people to use their magic. Ellerby believes in human and half-Fae rights,” she said valiantly. “He… he doesn’t care how much magic I have. And I’d rather have someone like him than… someone like you.”
Kivrin looked as stoic as ever when she said it. She didn’t think she’d wounded him. He didn’t have a heart to hurt.
Then, she strode through the door and back out to the party. But she was no longer feeling festive. She couldn’t see her friends to tell them where she had gone. Instead, she slunk out a side door and grabbed a carriage back to the mountain.
The ceremony was in six days. She wouldn’t have to deal with her father or his delusions about Lorian… or any of it ever again. Just six more days.
9
The Flight
“You just left!” Hadrian cried.
Kerrigan nodded. There wasn’t anything else to say to this ambush. Hadrian, Darby, and Lyam were all staring down at her as if she had lost her mind.
“You left and told no one,” he continued.
“We were worried,” Darby added.
“Clearly, I’m fine,” Kerrigan said.
“Yes, but we didn’t know that,” Lyam said.
Kerrigan rose to her feet and sighed. “I had a confrontation with my father.”
All three of them sucked in a sharp breath. They knew what that meant.
Darby sighed. “I’m sorry you had to deal with him.”
“He’s such an asshole,” Lyam grumbled.
Hadrian put his hand on her shoulder. All of the fight had gone out of him. He always seemed to understand without having to say anything.
But her father just made her want to scream. She didn’t want understanding. None of them could really understand. She just needed to get away. Get away from everything in her life that had made this complicated.
“I have to go check on Fordham. He’s my responsibility for the next six days,” she told them, taking a step back. “I have cleanup later, and then I’ll be around. We can do dinner.”
