by Valerie Mars
Heritage is a dangerous conversation. “You’re right,” I concede. “Here’s to hoping I don’t get a quad member who sprouts wings.”
“Or maybe that member will be you,” she mutters. And in response to that, I’m thankful I’m human for once.
Our conversation meanders from powers and the dining hall’s food to seventies albums, pausing when Ferra dismisses herself to use the restroom. I went before coming here, so I elect to stay in the stands for the chance I might overhear something spy-related.
And yeah. Maybe I don’t want to climb any more stairs.
In Ferra’s absence, a cloaked figure sits next to me. They’re rather close, considering the arena’s barely twenty percent full yet. This person begins to whistle, thoroughly creeping me out. At least say something when you plop down next to someone! This interloper reminds me once again of my vulnerability, and I curse myself for not at least carrying a knife. Not that it’d matter much against a supernatural with death touch or something.
It takes longer than I’d like to admit, but I resolve to remind them of our social norms. I’m moments from weakly confronting them when the tune dips into something familiar. I don’t think my ears have ever strained so hard in my life. Placing the song, I whip my head to their face, but the only thing visible from the shadows of their hood is the profile of their lips. They aren’t Enzo’s.
“Where’d you learn that song, stranger?”
His lips stretch into a thin smile. “A friend.”
“Any idea where I can find that friend?”
“He’s right here,” he replies, but I’ve had enough bullshit for today. I need control in at least one situation or I’m going to crack. I move to grab the hood of his cloak, but before I can reach it, he’s thrown up a hand to block my advance. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Show me your face, then. You’re about two seconds away from finding out the hard way what a dumpster pyre my day’s been.”
His smile stretches wider. “Compost pyre,” he corrects before throwing a finger to his lips. “If you say my name, they’ll come.”
Before I can protest, I’m met by the sage green eyes of Larkin Voss. The pieces begin falling into place. His smile when passing by, the way he fulfilled Enzo’s promise by saying “hi” at the last event.
“Bash said you have eleven siblings. Is that common for a Spring family?”
He holds my gaze. “No.”
“Do you know how many siblings your friend has?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Eleven.”
“That’s a pretty big coincidence.”
“It is.” He won’t look away from me. On a normal day I’d be thrown off by his beauty, but today I’m pissed enough that I don’t look away, either.
“So why do you perform as Crescenzo?”
“Everyone listened with their eyes. Crescenzo can open their ears because he’s rougher on the eyes.”
I cackle. “While I know what you’re saying, he was hitting all the right notes for me, if you know what I mean.”
His pale brows arch. “Maybe I should amend that.” He looks down, clasping his hands in his lap before peeking back up. “I’m sorry to cause trouble. Will you still teach me how to dougie?”
I snort, and his dimpled smile feels like the sun itself. “I have my own confession to make.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know how to dougie.” I wish I could tell him my true identity in exchange for the secret he’s shared with me.
“We’ll find something else, then. If you don’t mind. I’d like to learn more.”
“More music?” The Bruno Mars song was a lucky find as it was. We really might be about to have an “Itsy Bitsy Spider” jam session.
“Or other things,” he replies. “I was enjoying our new friendship.”
“Me, too.” Admitting so makes my cheeks burn. “Can I speak to you in public, or is this supposed to be all clandestine?”
“That’s completely in your hands. Being near me is sure to draw attention to yourself, so if that’s something you wish to avoid we can act accordingly.”
It’s a laughable conversation to have when I’m about to get locked in Ryland’s tower or leave the realm, but if that’s the case, I’d rather seize the moment.
“Will you stay for the assembly? I have a friend returning from the restroom, but she’s pretty laid-back.”
He frowns, still looking angelically beautiful. It isn’t fair. “Are you sure? My group will find me soon.”
“They’re going to have to take a number if they intend to feed my dumpster fire. That’s the Techie term, by the way. Besides, I want to hear about your happy-fun quad time with Griffith.”
He groans. “Absolute filth.”
33
Kai
August Ankerstrand thundered on my door well before sunrise, demanding I take him to Father’s war room. His eyes appeared heavily shadowed from skipping a night of sleep, but I soon learned they were the shadows of a haunted man. Shadows that no slumber can remedy.
I escorted him forthright, entering the castle tunnels from the same place I exited the night of the gala. August took one look at the painted castle and said, “That won’t do shit.” I was thinking the same thing, myself.
Father was half-asleep over a thick history on Faerie warfare, but sobered quickly upon August slamming down a heap of maps and proclaiming he’s tracked the outbreak. He had maps of his home, maps of the Ember Isles, maps of tiny villages, and maps of the entire realm. The latter in particular is why there is currently a map of the realm in my pocket. One that I slaved to copy the entire morning, leading to my own weary eyes.
As I listened to August show Father the severity and location of each case he could obtain information on, I noticed a curious trend. One that I wonder whether Mallory will notice. If she does, she just became our most valuable asset. What that would mean for her going home is yet to be determined.
I tried broaching the theory with Father once August left.
“Isn’t it odd that we’ve had no cases in the citadel?”
“Of course,” he scoffed. “They wouldn’t dare attack our capital city yet. They’re whittling the edges.”
“Isn’t their pattern of attack uncannily random?”
“That’s the point, Kaiser. It’s terrorism. They’ll corner us into sickness and hysteria, and then they’ll arrive with the guns.”
He met every line of thought surrounding my theory with opposition, so to avoid his ire I kept the remainder of it to myself. Ironically, it’s all to his credit. I wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t sent me to the human realm. I’ll broach it again if Mallory sees what I’m seeing.
The stands are almost full. Following Ryland’s warning that Ferra may be catching on, I decided to stand sentry near the Spring seating to ensure Mallory’s safety. However, Zeke’s assessment of her was nothing short of positive as he raved about the formidable reconnaissance team he and Ferra would make with the shifter female Magnolia.
Seeing Larkin Voss join Mallory was a surprise, but not a shock. I’ve suspected his second identity for some time, but his glamour stunt made it all the more apparent. The last push was the way he looked at Griffith Talonwood. Days previous, one of my Shadows approached me with details of a near-scuffle in a lower tavern which involved my “new pet.” It was too perfect of a coincidence that someone smelling exactly like Larkin Voss ended up saving Mallory from Talonwood.
At first glance, I thought it odd that he wouldn’t glamour his scent. Looking at him now, my guess is that he didn’t want a completely separate identity. Just a chance to hide his own. The irony that I seek to do the opposite isn’t lost on me.
And now she knows. Ferra, too, once she returned from the restroom confused on why her neighbor was conversing with the Prince of Spring like old friends. The three of them still talk, Mallory looking lighter than I’ve seen her in a while. Larkin’s harem looks less happy.
Still, I refuse to turn and
face the council when Speaker Celeste begins her speech. I already know what’s about to unfold. I instead scan the crowd as she introduces August Ankerstrand.
“Tonight we welcome back a hero and defender of the innocent. More importantly, we welcome back one of our own.” She proceeds to refresh us on the ice fishing incident and relates that we must listen to his “most harrowing tale.” August steps up to the podium with the weight of the realm in his hands and begins telling what I’ve already heard. Judging by Mallory’s face, she has, too.
Many cry. Most are glossy-eyed. Several clench their fists and steel their jaws. I don’t see a single expression of apathy by the time he’s finished explaining the countless cases of tragedy he encountered during his journey to the citadel. The crowd erupts into a roar at the end of his speech, sonically embodying the army they’re about to become. With August Ankerstrand as their figurehead.
Celeste steps back to the podium, announcing that with the intel August provided, the council has voted to expedite the matching. We’re to meet in the castle ballroom at seven in the morning, where we will remain until they’ve chosen our quads. The grueling task at hand does little to depreciate the crowd’s enthusiasm. Their response is predictable by now, but no less potent to my nerves.
The assembly’s conclusion forces me from the shadows. Rather than ascend to the exit, the crowd presses to the ground floor to mob August with well-wishes and condolences. I fight the wave, chasing after the fleeting form of Mallory despite her being so close only moments ago. I spot her at the top of the amphitheater hooking arms with Ryland, looking thoroughly displeased.
I am also disinclined to spend time with the ill-tempered wind-whisperer, but the council’s reaction to our matching yesterday tells me his presence is something I’ll continue to suffer long after Mallory’s departure. Temperamental though he may be, his intellect and cunning are undeniable. Hopefully those qualities will outweigh his disposition.
I assume Ryland’s aim in linking arms is to project the image of intimacy, but Mallory holds the rest of her body at such a length away it’s affecting her cadence. The two couldn’t look more wooden if they tried. I lag behind. Passersby won’t notice their unnatural gait when they appear to be a new couple slinking off together, anyway.
I wait in the shadows of an elk statue down Ryland’s hallway a good few minutes before rejoining the light and knocking on his door. His voice is gruff as he tells Mallory to open it, sounding like they’ve reached discord in their minimal time alone.
Iron and fae, indeed.
Mallory obliges, almost as eager to escape Ryland as she was to drink the coffee I brought the other morning. She cracks the door timidly, but upon seeing my face tears it open and flings her arms around my waist.
“Kai! You must save me from this beast.” I arrange my arms around her shoulders the way she seems to like, and she nuzzles her face into my clavicle. She takes a breath, sighing. As her scent washes over me, I begin to understand why people hug. This is nice. “Can’t I spend the night with you instead?”
In my book-infested hovel near the dungeons? She has every comfort right here. “My quarters aren’t fit for a lady, I’m afraid. And my working hours will afford you little protection in the night.” I shake my head. “You better stay with the beast.”
Ryland snorts with a wry smile from across the room. “You’re stuck here tonight, mortal. Come sit and see what Kai’s brought.”
She takes a step back, eyeing me with starry eyes. “Tacos?”
It earns her a silent chuckle which earns me her frown. “There’s something I wanted you to look over.” I untangle from her warmth and seat us around the coffee table. She crosses her legs and trains her amber eyes upon mine, reminding me of the wolves in the forest near my childhood home.
“As you know, Bash’s brother has gone through great lengths to document the Iron Blight. He visited me early this morning, and we went over his documents with my father, who then took it to the council. You know the results of that.”
She winces. “Yeah, that has me a little worried. I assume tomorrow I’ll just become one of the many leftover Springs?”
“To be honest, none of that information was relayed to me in the commotion of August Ankerstrand and the change of plans, but my guess is the same as yours. The timeline of your spying may be moved forward, as well.”
“Oh.” She looks down for a moment before facing Ryland. “Well, I guess that’s less convincing for you to worry about, eh?”
He raises a brow. “It wasn’t me who was worrying.”
“Ugh. Kai, show me what you got.”
I unfold the plague map of Faerie. There’s a second map in my pocket, but I want her to see our realm on its own first.
“August recorded the locations and severity of the outbreaks based on the many conversations he had on his way here. Everywhere shaded on the map represents a cluster. The darker the shading, the darker the reality.” I point to the Cold Coast, shaded the heaviest. “This is August’s home.” Next, I show the interior. “It’s clear near the citadel, although there was an outbreak around Appleton and its surrounding villages.” Which begs the question: Why paint us black if there’s no risk of infection here? My hunch cannot be correct.
She nods. “I remember the busy clinics. What do you want me to do with this?”
“I want you to focus on the shading and tell me if you’ve ever seen a similar pattern.”
She fidgets with her nails, brows coming together as she pores over the map. “I don’t know, Kai. I can’t see how I’d be of help.”
“It’s alright. I wouldn’t expect you to see it in the first map. That’s why I’ve brought the second.” I place the map before her, my hand hardly able to let go before she’s questioning me.
“Why are you giving me a map of North America?”
“What’s on the map, Mallory?”
She holds it up. “Capitals. Wait, cities. Major cities.”
I swipe the first map from the table. “Lay it down.” When she does, I place the one of Faerie beside it. “Compare the two.”
She snorts after half a minute. “August’s map of the outbreak looks like the electoral voting map everyone shared after the last presidential election.”
“Yes,” I reply. Ryland leans forward in his chair.
“Wait, what? That was just a joke.” She points to the Faerie map. “Can I fold this?”
“Do what’s necessary. This is a personal copy.”
She makes a crease through the width of the realm and begins trying to place the Cold Coast on the North American map. Ryland moves to stand behind Mallory, hovering over her shoulder as she lines it up flush against California. She’s right on the money.
“This is wild. All the shaded zones are a perfect match for population density on Earth. They line up exactly with Los Angeles, San Francisco, San Diego, San Jose…”
The flaring of Ryland’s eyes tells me he sees it, too. He bends farther over her shoulder to get a better view. “Our drift?” Mallory blows some of his hair out of her face, grumbling.
I nod. “Exactly in place.”
His brows furrow intensely over his eyes. “That’s a large find, Varigarde.”
“Too large, I’m afraid.”
She scoots down the couch to escape Ryland’s hair. “Are you guys saying Faerie exists right over the Western half of the US and Canada?”
“We exist there at the moment, but our realm has a rotation it follows around the Northern Hemisphere of Earth. We’ll be over this spot the next—what, eighty years or so?” I look to Ryland for confirmation. “It’s slow.”
“I never paid much mind to our orbit, but that sounds correct. Have you figured out how they’re related?”
I shake my head. “While it’s true the plague zones correlate with major cities, I’m not sure how to compare somewhere like San Francisco to Boise, Idaho. I’m hoping that’s something Mallory can pick up on.”
“The same mortal who’
s currently giggling over the maps?”
“Sorry, I just—I can’t. If you line everything up, we’re floating above Wyoming right now.”
“And?” Ryland’s tone is dry.
“Everyone jokes that Wyoming doesn’t really exist, and here I am in a place that doesn’t technically exist, and I don’t know. It’s been a long day. I laughed.”
He glances at his time piece. “You’re right, it’s been a long day.” Mallory’s jaw drops open in shock as Ryland turns to me. “How about we let her marinate overnight? She’ll have all day tomorrow to think about it at the matching debacle, anyway.”
“Yeah, I’m in agreement with that. Let’s call it a night.”
Mallory springs onto her feet, looping her arm through mine. “I’ll see you out, sir.”
“Thank you, miss.” I dip my head to Ryland and let Mallory lead me to the door.
She leans against it, staring up at me. “Guess tomorrow’s the big day, huh? You nervous?”
“Your eyes remind me of a wolf.” The words tumble from my mouth without my meaning to. I don’t give her time to respond. “I’m not nervous. Actually,” I lean in to whisper so Ryland knows he isn’t invited to the conversation, “I’m fairly certain one of my quad mates is in this room.”
“Yikes, really? That’s a loaded topic right there. Let’s go back to eyes. Yours remind me of glaciers.”
I blink. “Thanks?”
“No. Thank you,” she says with a quick grin that dissolves as she changes focus. “Can I ask one question before you leave?”
“Of course.”
“What would you do if you weren’t a Shadow?”
I’ve had the plan worked out in my mind since I was twenty-two. “A farm in the wilderness—something with animals. Raising cows, I think.”
“I thought the same. You’re too kind for cloaks and daggers. Okay, one more hug and I’ll let you go,” she says, opening her arms. I cradle her into my chest once more, and she sighs like before. “Your hugs are improving.”
