by Kristie Cook
“Why do you want to kill us?” he asked in return. “Why do you hate my father so?”
A sort of laugh-snort burst out of me. “You’re kidding, right? The king made me kill people, simply for his amusement and gain.”
“Such as in the Pits?”
“I killed for my life and my sister’s then,” I corrected. “No, he surrounded me and terrified me, making me fight for my life when he didn’t need to. We had a deal. He had the power. I didn’t have to kill those people first. And then in the throne room …” My throat tightened at the memory . . . a memory not unlike others.
“But I have done no such thing.”
“Perhaps why I haven’t killed you yet,” I muttered, but then my voice grew louder again. “But you do want to enslave me, too. Which I kind of get, since you think I have some great power you can use, but why the others? Why are you so keen to enslave your own people?”
“There were no slaves at the cottage. You will find none in the Court of Souls.”
This made me pause. Was it true? I supposed I’d find out soon enough. “I am your slave, am I not? Besides, I saw what you did to those women. Drained them of all their power to feed your own. You said yourself they would become slaves. That makes you no better than him.”
“Or,” Tor said, his voice dropping to be nearly inaudible, “maybe he uses me in the same way he wants to use you.”
The truth rang through his words, pain lacing his tone. He’d tried to hide it, but I not only heard it but felt it in my soul. I’d learned the hard way to trust my intuition, but I’d nonetheless learned.
“Princess Maeve claims you do it to boost your own power. The tormenting people thing. She says all Shadow fae feed off the worst things in life, such as torment and despair, and create more of it to gorge themselves. You said yourself that’s why your father keeps his lands so dark all the time.”
“Princess Maeve?” he scoffed, though I didn’t know why he stressed the title, spitting it with disgust. “Be careful what you believe from that one. Like all fae, she twists truths, especially when it comes to the Shadows. We do feed off precisely what the other fae had tried to discard of themselves—the aspects of life and existence most care to hide, such as grief and death, fear and despair. But there is plenty of all of that in simple day-to-day living. After all, not even the most powerful royal fae can truly banish all of life’s darkness. We do not need to create more, and if they were smart, they would know that we could actually bring them relief.”
I pondered this for a few minutes. “Saoirse—she feeds off hate, doesn’t she?”
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Excellent observation.”
“She grew stronger, her injuries healing, as my hatred drained away.” I started putting more of it together. “When I first saw her in the woods—when she looked like you—her power was weak.”
Tor cut me off with a hearty laugh. “Don’t ever let her hear you say that.”
“I’m pretty sure I can take her. I practically did back there.”
“But you did not, even when you thought she was the king and hit with all of your power. She may not be him, but she is of royal blood.”
I shrugged. “Compared to you, she was weak. And definitely compared to your father. But when she appeared as the king, her power strengthened as my hatred grew. Strong enough to lash out at me.”
Tor tilted his head in appreciation. “And that is how I know I can trust you with my life, Elliana.”
My brows pinched together. “I don’t follow.”
“You didn’t feel hatred when you saw me. Only when you saw my father.”
Well, damn if he wasn’t right.
“So you do want to kill your father,” I said after a while. When he didn’t reply, I pressed further. “What is the plan?”
Apparently obeying a silent command, Needan took a few steps quicker, sidling up next to Tor’s horse. The prince cut a sideways glance at me.
“Maybe I will tell you when I know I can trust you,” he said.
“You just said you already did. And you’re taking me to your home.”
“I said I trusted you with my life. With my secrets is yet to be determined.”
I didn’t reply. I already knew he did. After all, hadn’t he disclosed a major secret—his motive?
Chapter 17
“We’ll need to sift from here,” Tor said when we finally crested the last ridge of the mountain range. Below us the fog hung thickly, obliterating any view of the valley. Needan strode up next to him and his horse, and Tor reached over to wrap his long fingers around my arm.
His power momentarily swirled around us then disappeared. We no longer perched at the top of the mountain looking into a valley of shadows, but had come some ways down, on the banks of a turquoise pond at the edge of a cliff. He’d sifted all of us—horses and all. If sifting was truly like flashing, then that took immense power. Another display of the strength of this prince.
A waterfall to our left fed the pond, which in turn spilled over to somewhere I couldn’t see from this vantage point, but I could hear the water hitting rocks far below. There was more color here than there had been in all of our travels, and I realized the lighting had brightened. It wasn’t full on daylight, but more like that morning twilight time just before sunrise.
Tor grabbed my arm, his magic swirled, and once again we transported to the side of another pool. I looked up the mountain to a series of waterfalls that flowed over and down what could have been stairs made for giants, the pools gathering on the ledges before cascading to the next level below. Mists hovered around the falls and pond, where the sun sparkled on the ripples. The sun … I tilted my head back to look up at the sky, feeling the sun on my face for the first time in what felt like forever—since coming to Faery. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me, sending paradoxical goosebumps over my skin.
“It’s so good to feel the sun again,” I murmured aloud. I opened my eyes and looked over at Tor. “But how?”
“Shadows need light to exist, do they not?” he replied, glancing to the far side of the pond.
I noticed for the first time several fae sitting on the banks over there, sunning themselves. They waved at the prince, their faces lit up with joy.
“So why is the rest of the Shadow Lands so dark?” I asked.
Tor frowned. “That is my father’s doing.”
I snorted. “Did his black soul snuff out the sun?”
He laughed—a genuine, beautiful sound. “He certainly wishes he had that much power. He does create the fogs, however.” We began moving again as he talked, the horses circling the pond and heading toward an archway that led away from the mountain. The joy left his voice as quickly as it had filled it. “The constant darkness feeds the despair of his people, which in turn feeds his own power while theirs withers away.”
“Wouldn’t he want his people strong, though? I mean, the Shadow fae have plenty of enemies, from what I’ve been told. What if they’re attacked?” I didn’t know why I cared so much.
“My father only wants power and control. The Seelie and Unseelie hate us, yes, but they never attack. They never come to the Shadow Lands. They created the Shadow fae and banished us to our own lands—”
“Wait. The Seelie and Unseelie created your people? How could they hate you so much then?”
We passed through the arch and onto a path that led down a gradual slope toward what appeared to be a town in the distance. Behind the town rose a stone wall, the face of another mountain, jagged peaks scraping the sky. Picturesque cottages out of the pages of fairy tales were scattered among the trees that lined each side of the wide path.
“Yes, we came about during one of their big wars eons ago, before the Seelie and Unseelie designations, when they were all simply Light and Dark. They go to war frequently, often out of nothing more than boredom, but this was one of their deadliest and most realm-changing. The Light and the Dark clashed like never before and never since, so violently and v
ehemently that parts of themselves separated from their very souls. They kept what they deemed worthy and discarded the rest—the parts they desired to keep hidden in deep, dark places. The parts of themselves they hated. The souls of the Shadow fae were created as a result, but they banished us to our own lands where they would not have to see us, allowing them to forget what had once been a part of their very beings. Of course, they want nothing to do with us.”
“Except as slaves.”
“Except as slaves,” he echoed, then added, “Only my people here at the Court of Souls are free.”
“And your father just allows it?”
“He never comes here. He abhors the light, which is exactly why I chose this as my lands. He does not understand it, and he is too arrogant to suspect I would be doing anything against him.”
“I meant, he allows the oppression of his own people?” I was trying to wrap my head around it all but couldn’t fathom how Caellach was their king.
“Ah, well, that my father encourages. Like I said, he wants power and control. He gives the Seelie and the Unseelie what they want, which puts them in debt to him. That gives him power.”
“And they’re okay with that as long as they get their free labor,” I said bitterly.
“They need their fields worked, their palaces cleaned, and their food served, but never by their own. They would never do to their own people what they are so willing and happy to have done to the Shadows. Draining us of our Shadow powers means they don’t have to be reminded of what once was part of them. As they see it, fae with no powers are not fae at all, but merely soulless creatures to own like property.” His voice was heavy, anger lacing the edges.
“Another reason you want the throne,” I said.
“Someone must do something. At one time, I thought the people would rebel, but those who dare step out of line in even the slightest manner … Well, you saw what I had to do to those three fae.”
“Had to?” I challenged.
“Had to,” he confirmed. “If I do not, I become one of them. Then I could never free anyone. And yes, that is exactly what I plan to do—I will free my people, Elliana. Saoirse was one of my first, many years ago.”
“Really? How?” I found this all fascinating but also wanted to keep him talking as I collected more key pieces of information, recognizing their value and tucking them away for when I needed them for my own goals.
“Saoirse is my sister. More precisely, my half-sister, a product of one of the king’s many affairs.”
That explained how she’d survived my power when other fae hadn’t. I didn’t find it in the least bit surprising the king was a womanizer, but— “I was under the assumption he had no daughters.”
“None that he acknowledges. His actual claim is that he only sires princes. He’s sent all the daughters away, pretending as though they don’t exist. I don’t know how many or where they all are, but Saoirse’s mother came to court when she was young, begging for food and shelter.” His voice dropped, regret lacing it as he said, “Fearing she’d disclose his secrets, my father made me drain her and ordered me to find and drain the girl, too. I told him the child got away before I could find her. It was the first time I defied his orders and risked everything—my name, my title, my life. I would do it every day again to save her. In fact, I do it every day for her and the others.”
My heart weighed heavily in my chest as we rode in silence again, my mind processing this. Was this prince known as the Tormentor a softie at heart? A noble man with a noble cause? Well, maybe not quite noble, but he claimed to at least have the right intentions. If he could be believed, which I wasn’t sure of yet. And what plans did he have after he freed his people, I wondered. What would the Seelie and Unseelie do when they no longer had slaves delivered to them on demand? Did Tor plan to go to war with them? He surely had to know that would happen, whether he wanted it to or not. The earthly realm served as a prime example of how far slave owners and elitists would go to ensure they could oppress others for their own gain. Would such a war be good or bad for my people? For my own world? I didn’t know those answers. He probably didn’t care.
I wasn’t one to fault a being for having to do whatever necessary to protect their own. I’d done the same in the Pits. And other times, that persistent voice tried to remind me. Yes, other times I didn’t want to think about. Though not thinking about those memories didn’t make them less real. And if I would admit it, I’d realize I was no better than the fae prince. In fact, maybe even worse. My motivations had been selfish—to protect my own heart from losing those I loved, and I hadn’t even done that. His motivations would change the entire Faery realm for the better.
The horses slowed as we approached a tall, white wall that appeared to be made of marble and surrounded the town, another archway stretching over the path, its gates opened wide.
“Welcome to the Court of Souls,” Tor said as we passed through.
It appeared to be everything the Court of Shadows was not—its complete opposite. Where the Court of Shadows was all dark with sharp angled roofs and pointed spires stabbing the sky, the Court of Souls encompassed architecture of round buildings, domed roofs, curved archways, and white marble walls. A dark, low-vibrating energy weighed heavily in the Court of Shadows, the stench of agony and despair permeating the very walls, trapping the residents into mere existences and survival. Here, fae bustled about, on foot and riding various types of creatures, as they went about their business, the air fresh and their energy buzzing with life.
We trotted down a wide avenue through what seemed to be the center of the town toward the largest structure that appeared to butt up against the mountain cliff behind it. The fae stopped and grinned as we passed by, their heads dipping in respectful acknowledgment, but not a single one actually bowing or taking a knee to their prince. He didn’t demand it either, but only nodded and waved in return. We entered what I supposed would be called a plaza—a wide, semi-circular area bordered by shops and bistros with a large fountain in the center. The archway to what I presumed to be Tor’s palace was on the far side of the fountain, though the beautiful structure was no palace. Mansion? Yes. Awe-inspiring? Definitely. But in size alone, it was not at all comparable to King Caellach’s gothic castle or Maeve’s icy one at Winter Court.
We’d barely rounded the fountain when two male fae came rushing through the archway, hailing Tor down. Our horses stopped, and Tor dismounted. They spoke in their native tongue, and whatever they had to say was obviously important and urgent. Tor glanced at me, and with a tilt of his head, Needan started moving while their discussion continued, carrying me through the archway and stopping at the short flight of marble steps that led to a covered veranda. At the top of the steps stood a domineering and fiercely beautiful female fae. Eyes the color of amethysts gazed down at me, and she lifted a slanted brow—in appreciation or annoyance, I couldn’t tell, so I only glared back, raising my own brow.
With the tiniest curve of her cupid-bow lips, Saoirse lifted her chin. “Well? Do you plan to sit there all day or are you coming in?”
Dismounting Needan, I ascended the curved steps to the round portico, the roof supported by white marble columns, taking it all in. The domed ceiling was made of an opaque glass tinted blue, filtering the sunlight so that it gave the marble a bluish glow, like we were under water. Scrolling metal and colored glass decorated the edges of the dome and its frame, crawling partway down the columns.
“Yasta!” Saoirse barked, turning on her heel and striding for the tall arched doors that led inside. “The longer you take, the longer we have to wait for mealtime.”
My stomach growled just at the thought, so I hurried after her, only to stop in my tracks as soon as I entered the wide, round space. The ceiling curved several stories overhead, another glass dome at its top, elaborate scrolls and runes decorating the curved walls all the way to the marble floor. At the center stood what looked like the base of a fountain, but rather than water cascading downward, purple
faerie light flowed upward into a large spherical shape that hung in the air.
“Elliana,” Saoirse bit out, urging me on. We circled around the light sculpture thingy as she flipped her hands in different directions, gesturing toward some of the archways off this chamber that she called the mezzanine. “Throne room. Ballroom. Tor works down that way. Library over there.”
We passed under the archway that seemed to lead to the back of the manor, entering a hallway where ivy crawled along the walls and around the large windows on one curved wall and paintings of fae lined the inner wall. I slowed again, admiring the artwork, the images at once realistic and magical.
Saoirse groaned. “Yes, I know, Tor is so very talented.”
I pulled back in surprise. “Tor painted these?”
“You’ll have plenty of time to look at them later. Yasta, yasta!”
I was about to pick up my pace again when a certain image caught my eye—a younger, softer version of Saoirse sitting on the back of a dragon. On the back of a fucking dragon. The beast was beautifully rendered, making me wonder if it was from Tor’s imagination or reality. He’d said dragons lived in Faery, but I’d still yet to see one. And Saoirse … he’d captured her perfectly. At least, if a younger, softer version of her had ever truly existed.
“My dad was an artist,” I murmured.
“Was?” she asked, her tone quiet and less urgent as she suddenly stood back by my side.
I flinched at the realization of using the past tense.
“I don’t know the last time he painted. I don’t know anything about what’s going on with my parents,” I admitted, and the pain of missing them bloomed into an ache in my stomach. I no longer felt very hungry. “I don’t even know where they are.”
“Tor may be able to help you with that,” she said as she began moving again.
“He’d find my parents?”
