Promise of Darkness

by Bec McMaster

  “Maybe even some honey….”

  One of the sylphs’ forms grows more solid, until she’s blinking those amber eyes at me. Tugging at my robe, she leads me to the left before vanishing in a swirl of wind.

  I can feel them herding me, scampering through the fretwork as if it’s a forest. Others join them, curious now. All I need is a pipe, and I might as well be the famed Piper of Haggelund, luring the sprites from a town they’ve infested.

  My smile fades when I realize I’m no longer alone.

  Voices echo down the hallway, and light glimmers like a beacon.

  This way, says the push of those invisible hands.

  I forgot to request a secret way to the kitchen, where I wouldn’t be seen.

  It’s too late now.

  I can hear someone arguing, and the silence of the night is empty enough for those voices to carry.

  “—and when do you plan on telling her?” a female voice asks.

  “When it’s safe to do so.” The frost in that voice belongs to Thiago. “She’s barely begun to trust me. I can’t risk it. Not yet. We’re barely through the first ring of curse work.”

  “You have five weeks.” Definitely Eris. She wastes no time with words. “Five weeks to finish this, or the game ends forever.”

  “Thank you, E,” he growls. “I wasn’t aware of the looming deadline.”

  “The princess is stubborn.” The first voice sounds like Thalia’s. “She knows you intend to use her to get your wife back.”

  “And what did you say to that?”

  “I told her it must have been a lie formed in her mother’s court. I’m not a fool, Thiago. She believed me.”

  Breath going shallow, I can’t stop my feet from creeping closer to the door ahead and that faint crack of light.

  I trusted Thalia.

  She won me over with a handful of smiles and a platter of bread and grapes. I should have known better. I’ve never let anyone get so close to me so quickly, but there was something about her that seemed instantly trustworthy.

  Erlking’s balls, I’m an idiot.

  It’s her voice. She told me the blasted tale herself. The saltkissed have the ability to lure anyone into a trap with their voices, even when you can see it coming. Perhaps there’s some magic left in her, something that makes her believable.

  “Today was dangerous,” Thiago continues, sounding closer than I expected.

  I freeze. He must be on the other side of the door.

  “The Alliance queens couldn’t stop themselves from gloating about it. I know she’s starting to suspect something.” He sighs. “If I could just get her to trust me….”

  “It will come,” Thalia tells him. “It always does. You’ll win her heart.”

  “But will I do it in time?” he murmurs. “Today was a misstep. I can’t allow her near anyone else just yet. I could almost see her starting to put together the pieces, and the meeting cost me what little trust I’d managed to gain.”

  “You can’t keep her locked away forever.”

  “Not forever, no. Just until it’s… safe.”

  “And yet, you can’t ignore Angharad,” Eris points out.

  “This is the worst fucking time for that bitch to be making her move,” he snarls.

  “I’m sure she consulted her oracle,” Finn says dryly. “Perhaps you should send her a letter requesting an extension of time. Five weeks please, Angharad, before you make your move. I just need to seduce a certain princess.”

  “Perhaps we should send Angharad a knife and someone to plant it in her throat.” Eris’s voice suggests she’s thinking of doing the task herself.

  “Tempting,” Thiago mutters, “but her sister queens might take exception to that and decide to focus their full attentions on us. We’re prepared for war, but not against the entire Unseelie horde.”

  Invisible hands brush against my shins, an impatient little face forming near my feet. I almost forgot the demi-fey.

  This way, it seems to tell me. The milk is this way.

  I shake my head.

  Thiago’s too close to the door. Any movement might alert him that I’m here.

  “Fuck the princess,” Eris says. “It might solve all your problems.”

  “Woo her,” Finn adds. “Fucking’s all well and good, but in my experience, the way to a woman’s heart is through soft kisses and gentle words.”

  “Considering how empty your bed is,” Eris replies, “I’d hardly consider you the expert.”

  “Ah, my dear,” he practically purrs, “you’re one to talk.”

  “That’s why I have these,” she replies sweetly. I don’t need to see her to know she’s waggling her fingers. “I don’t need a man.”

  “And I would love to prove you wrong,” Finn replies, “but I fear it might grow awkward if you were to fall in love with me.”

  Eris snorts. “You overestimate your abilities.”

  “Is it possible for you to focus?” someone else growls, and I suspect it’s Baylor. “Or are we going to have to separate the pair of you again?”

  The demi-fey returns, pulling impatiently on my robe.

  I promised it milk, and they’re remarkably persistent when you don’t fulfill your half of the bargain.

  “Not now,” I breathe, pressing a finger to my lips.

  Eyes narrowing, it bites me.

  I hiss out a breath, lunging backwards. The demi-fey vanishes, but the damage is done.

  “What was that?” Thalia demands.

  Footsteps whisper over marble. I see a shadow pass over the floor, and take one step back just as Thiago jerks the door open.

  Our eyes lock.

  His flare wide in surprise before he freezes. "Your Highness."

  I catch a glimpse of the others looking at me over his shoulder, but then my gaze returns to him, as it always seems to these days. It’s clear I’ve interrupted a war council of sorts, and my first instinct is to back away.

  But that’s the princess who’s spent too many years watching doors shut in her face at her mother’s court.

  And I’m so fucking tired of being kept in the dark.

  "What's going on?" I demand.

  “I thought you were in bed,” he replies, cool as mist.

  “Clearly.”

  “You should return.”

  “There’s a lot of things I should be doing,” I retort, “but I have this terrible habit of not listening when I’m told to run along.”

  “How much did you hear?”

  I’m tempted to say everything, but if my mother taught me anything, it’s to never give the game away. “Something about empty beds. The words were a little muffled though, so you may have to repeat them.”

  He glances over his shoulder, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. The light behind him does marvelous things to his features, but I harden my heart.

  The bastard’s been lying to me from the start.

  He needs to seduce me, and I, fool that I am, fell for his sad story about his wife. I fell for his kiss. For his smile. For the way he allowed me to join his meeting today. It’s all been one big ruse.

  Never again.

  “What are you all doing up so late?”

  “Plotting,” Thalia calls.

  “We were discussing the meeting today and the result of it,” Baylor adds, and I catch a glimpse of him, one foot kicked up on the chair in front of him.

  Instantly, my eyes dart away. I’m not yet ready to face those particular demons. “I shall leave you to it then.”

  Thiago stares at me for a long, hot moment, then slowly pushes the door open wider and steps back, gesturing me into the room. "Join us. If you dare."

  His smile burns me. I hadn’t realized how much he’d gotten under my skin, but that smile does things to me.

  And he knows it.

  I don't belong here.

  This is Evernight. Not my own people. We have to be enemies, no matter how many silky smiles Thiago gives me.

  I think that’s wh
at bothers me the most. I’d started to like these people. I’d started to drop my guard, only to hear them plotting behind my back as though I am just a pawn in this war.

  Well, it’s time to be more than a pawn.

  My mother was right.

  The prince can’t be trusted, but if he thinks I trust him….

  "It's none of her concern," Eris bites out, and the words are enough to make me step inside the room like nothing else might have.

  "E," Thalia snaps, pushing out of the fur-lined chair she was reclining in. The smile she gives me is far more welcoming, but I can’t help remembering her words. "Iskvien's more than welcome here."

  Some sort of tension drifts between the two women. That same old silent argument I always feel I’ve just walked into.

  Eris's lips purse, and she looks down at the map-table in the center of the room. She doesn’t want me here, that’s clear, though I swear I’ve never done a cursed thing to make her hate me so much.

  "If you’re speaking of war, then yes, it’s my concern,” I tell them. “I have my people to think of too. And I may be able to convince my mother the threat is real if I know more of what’s going on."

  I can’t allow my people to suffer if my mother decides to abstain from this coming war from pure spite.

  I circle the map-table. It’s extraordinary. All blues and greens and browns. Valleys carved into the timber, and rivers snaking their way through the grassy plains of the Horde to the North-west, with snow-capped mountains rising out of the map, tipped with white. Little gold castles stand up from the map where the main cities lie. I see Hawthorne Castle ringed with thorns, and Ceres gleams by the sea. To the north, Valerian stands like a bastion of strength, a far cry from its current state. I’ve never seen a map like it.

  Little red flags mark the wilderness in the north, beyond the mountains. The Unseelie kingdoms. A chill runs through me. There are considerably more flags there than I'd expected. "There’s so many of them.”

  “The Unseelie have always bred like rabbits,” Eris says.

  “Some say they’re not as pure blooded as we are,” Finn adds, “and their mixed blood makes them more fertile.”

  “These are Blaedwyn’s lands,” Thiago says, gesturing to the eastern side of the map, where the flags have a ravaging white wolf printed on them. “And these are Angharad’s.” He points to the larger swathe of flags in the center. “And far to the west lies Morwenna’s kingdom.”

  Those flags are black.

  “What are the silver circles?” I ask. They look a little like coins.

  “The Hallows.”

  You can almost see the path of the ley lines. A Hallow can only be built along one of them, though the nexus point where they meet provides the most magical energy. The origin Hallows—the ones that trapped the Old Ones—stand at each nexus point. It’s where the Veil thins between worlds at each equinox and solstice, where creatures from other realms can step through into ours, even if it’s only for one night.

  There are significantly more of them in the Unseelie kingdoms.

  “The Unseelie worshipped the Old Ones more than we ever did,” Thiago says. “Most of their Hallows have been used as places of worship for centuries. They brought tributes there, and gave sacrifices, and over the years the power in the Hallows began to grow in response.” He points to one of the silver coins in Blaedwyn’s territories. A golden pair of antlers is stamped onto the face of it. “This is where the Erlking stepped from his realm into ours, leading the Wild Hunt with him. This is where he’s trapped.” His finger moves to the far north, where a horned skull replaces the antlers. “This represents the Horned One and his prison.” On toward a hound. “The Grimm.” To an icy crown. “The Frost Giant.” South toward a ghostly, howling face. “The Wraithenwold.” Toward Morwenna’s lands. “Red Mag. The Raven King. Bloody Mara.” He’s turning south now, toward our own lands. Toward Mistmere. “The Mother of Night.” Into the forests that adorn my mother’s kingdom. “The Green Man.” South to the Isle of Stormhaven. “The Father of Storms.”

  There are only two origin Hallows left.

  One in Queen Maren’s kingdom, and one in Queen Lucidia’s.

  I finish for him, “The Dreamthief. And Mrog the Warmonger.”

  “Do we know whether they’ll sustain the powers they had if they reenter this world?” Thalia muses. “They were once worshipped as gods, and belief in a god is a power of its own. After all these years, surely their powers are dying with so few left who make sacrifices to them?”

  “It’s not just the sacrifices,” Baylor says, scratching at his stubble. “What do we leave on our window sills on Samhain?”

  “Salt,” Thalia replies.

  Eris shrugs. “Iron shavings.”

  “Why?” Baylor asks.

  I’ve never truly thought of it. It’s simply tradition. “To stop the Wild Hunt from entering your home.”

  “We hang mistletoe in the entrance of our doors,” he says, “because mistletoe is fatal to the Erlking. Some peasants in the western marshes prefer to hang horseshoes there for good luck, and they forget that once upon a time, it was to repel the Hunt.”

  “What do you hang above your bed to prevent the Dreamthief from stealing your soul away to the realm of dreams?” Thiago asks.

  “Webs woven with iron beads to trap him,” I whisper, starting to realize what they’re both suggesting. “It’s not worship, but it is belief. We believe in the Old Ones’ powers every time we take steps to counter them. We’re granting them strength as we do it.”

  Eris snorts. “And if they find themselves weak, then they’ll simply tap into the ley lines’ powers and drink up all that delicious magic until they look like Finn at a banquet.”

  Finn lobs a blueberry at her head. “Elegant and exceptionally handsome?”

  “Bloated with enough mead to drown a ship.”

  “So they’ll retain all their old powers.” Thalia circles the map, sliding a silver Hallow from its nexus point. It’s stamped with the trident that the Father of Storms wields. Flipping it in the air, she stares at the picture grimly. “I do not want to meet the Father of Storms. They say he shackles his saltkissed and sends them to hunt at his edict. They were his hounds of the sea, and while my bloodlines are diluted, I would very much not care to test the theory that anyone with salt in their blood must answer his call.”

  “We all have certain ghosts of the past we don’t want to see again.” Thiago stares through the map, and I wonder which Old One he’s picturing. “The Alliance will take its time ascertaining the truth of what Angharad’s doing at Mistmere, but I don’t intend to sit here, twiddling my thumbs.” He rubs a silver Hallow coin between his thumb and forefinger. “Baylor and Eris, I want two companies of warriors standing at the ready. The second I give the command, they need to be prepared to take Mistmere.”

  “Of course,” Baylor rumbles, and Eris simply nods.

  “Thalia, my sweet, sweet Thalia,” Thiago says, capturing her hand and lifting it to his lips. “Evernight must be prepared to face a war. I want more grain shipments coming in, and instruct the armory to increase production—”

  “I do know what I’m doing, Thi,” she drawls. “Any spies in the city will know what we’re preparing for, but at least we’ll be ready.”

  “Finn.” Thiago turns to the affable rogue.

  “I know,” Finn sighs. “I lost the trail near Vervain Forest, but he has to be out there somewhere. I’ll find him. I promise.”

  Every inch of me stills.

  “This isn’t like him,” Baylor says gruffly. “If it was Finn, I’d say he was led astray by a particularly handsome widow or a grape festival. But Lysander knew the risks. He knew the importance of his mission. He wouldn’t just vanish without due cause. And it’s been a year now.”

  “His mission?” I dare to ask, surprised that the rest of the room can’t hear the thud of my heart.

  Baylor glances at me. “Forgive me, Princess. But my brother’s task is
for the prince’s ears only.”

  “A year.” Eris looks uncomfortable. “Do you think—?”

  “No,” Baylor snaps. “I don’t. I would know, somehow. And you’re suggesting someone out there has the capacity to kill my brother. Lysander is the best of us all.”

  He was.

  I want to be sick.

  I don’t know why Lysander was sent to Vervain Forest, but he somehow ran afoul of a witch powerful enough to curse-twist him into a bane’s form.

  And then he died.

  Words bandy around me, plans for war and provenance. I can barely keep the horror off my face.

  “This is the last communication I had from Lysander.” Baylor slides a folder of papers across the table toward Finn. They spill from the folder, and I capture them with a swift hand.

  Thiago reaches past me and slams his hand on the papers before I can see more than a glimpse of them. “These are not for you, Princess. I’m sorry.”

  I lift my hand and let him take the papers. “Don’t be.”

  There’s a coat of arms in the top corner, though I only catch a glimpse of it. A basilisk or a wyvern rears its serpentine head, which makes my thoughts race. Several of the nobles near the borders of Asturia use a similar creature, and three of them are within a stone’s throw of Vervain. I’d have to get a better look to see what else was on that shield to know precisely which of my mother’s vassals is writing to the prince.

  I can’t stay here any longer, listening to Baylor argue about his brother’s lack of recent communication.

  “I think I’m of little value here,” I murmur, pushing to my feet.

  Instantly, Thiago rises and draws my chair back. “You might be surprised.”

  I grace him with a wan smile. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day, Your Highness.”

  His eyes narrow. “You called me Thiago when we were at the hunting cabin.”

  “I called you a lot of things.” And I lowered my guard for one dangerous second, only to find he’d driven a fatal blade into my heart. Despite the words I overheard earlier, I’m still recovering from those days together.