by Jayne Faith
Oliver lunged forward and swung at the first attacker to make it past Emmaline’s people. The young man with wild green eyes was no match for my father.
“Make them drop back!” I shouted at Emmaline.
She gave the command, and all of the students retreated up to the stage.
I wanted to scream at the idiots flying at us. They could object to me all they wanted. But they were putting innocent people in danger. And they were forcing my hand. I would have to order the execution of anyone who raised a weapon against me. I’d already given fair warning, and now I’d have to follow through.
Anger, despair, and frustration flowed through me in the background. But I couldn’t afford to give my emotions full attention. Oliver had worked over the next attacker to break through, forcing the man back and off the stage’s edge. My father didn’t want to kill anyone, but we both knew any attackers who survived and got caught would face the ultimate punishment.
My entire body was vibrating. My sword arm shook so hard, I gripped Aurora with both hands to try to steady the trembling. At first I thought it was my pent-up anger, but something was happening in the auditorium.
It felt like a tremor, but the ground wasn’t shaking.
Oliver whipped around. “Do you feel that?” he shouted at me, his eyes round.
“Yeah,” I said, shifting my gaze beyond my father.
The chaos and commotion seemed to slow. Everyone else was noticing it. What the hell was going on?
Suddenly a shockwave punched through the auditorium. I didn’t know how else to describe the invisible force that launched me clear off the floor.
The back of my head hit the edge of the throne’s seat, and white light flooded my vision. The light shimmered and then dissipated, and a familiar sensation swept through me. I was in the body of that ancient warrior woman, the one I’d inhabited when I’d killed Marisol. But unlike last time, I was only there for a brief moment, just long enough to recognize it.
I gasped as if I’d breached the surface of the water after being held under. Blinking rapidly, I wildly swiveled my gaze. I was back in the auditorium. The fighting had stopped. Everyone else was looking around, their faces as dazed as I felt.
“What in the name of the gods . . .?” Oliver trailed off. He squinted back at me, then turned to look out at the auditorium seats. “Petra, I think we’re under attack.”
I frowned, not understanding. Of course we were under attack. We’d been trying to hold our ground for the past several minutes.
“There!” Oliver pointed with his sword and then took a running leap off the edge of the stage. He shoved people out of the way as he tried to make his way up one of the aisles.
The house lights flickered. Then every bulb in the place lit up, probably flipped on by one of Maxen’s people. I looked through slitted eyelids, trying to see what had caught my father’s attention.
There, at the top of the stairs, stood Finvarra. He held something bright, faceted, and pulsing in one hand. White curls of smoke flowed off it like mist from dry ice. The other arm was at his side, and it was missing a hand and the lower part of his forearm. That was my doing.
With a strangled cry, I hiked up my dress with one hand and tried to charge forward with Aurora held aloft. Hands grabbed me from behind.
“No, Petra!” It was Maxen.
I let go of the fabric to try to peel his fingers away.
“It’s Finvarra with the Stone of Fal,” I said, but I wasn’t sure if Maxen heard me. The auditorium was erupting in shouts as people began to recognize the banished Unseelie High King. I whipped around to face Maxen. “We need to capture him! If we can hold him and get Jasper here, we’ll—”
Maxen squinted at me as if I were mad, and then another shockwave hit. Same as before, it sent me into that other place, that other body. Then I returned, this time still on my feet.
My vision cleared just in time to see Finvarra tuck the misting Stone of Fal under his shortened arm and whip his good hand up to toss a small, sparkling object into the air. A blinding flash burst outward.
I knew it was too late, but I hurled myself off the stage anyway, struggling to move with the heavy robe on and the skirt of my dress twisting around my legs.
The light faded, and Finvarra was gone. He’d used a portal jewel to spirit himself away. Just as he’d tossed the small orb, I’d seen his face. It was tight and red with fury.
I stopped at the base of the stage, still staring at the place where he’d been. Oliver had made it about three quarters of the way up the aisle. Now, he turned to race back down to me.
Everyone gazed around, stunned, and for the moment the insurgents appeared to have forgotten they were trying to kill me.
Oliver grabbed my arm and started hustling me toward the exit to the side of the stage.
I didn’t try to fight him. “What just happened? Did you see?”
“He tried to use the Stone of Fal on us,” Maxen said. “He attempted to activate it.”
I twisted to look over my shoulder at him. He’d snatched Nicole and was right behind us. “Are we . . .?” My blood chilled as it all began to sink in.
Maxen’s face was screwed up in a look of concentration. “Do you feel any loyalty to Finvarra?” he asked.
“Hell no,” I spat.
Nicole made a horrified face.
“I don’t either,” my father said. “If that was truly the Stone of Fal, it must have misfired.”
Oliver pushed me ahead of him through the door. The four of us began running, my bare feet slapping the tiles. He pulled me around a corner and sped up, half-carrying, half-dragging me with him.
“Where are we going?” I panted.
“My apartment,” he said. “It’s the safest place in the fortress for you right now.”
He was right, but that was going to have to change. I needed secure quarters of my own. It wouldn’t do for the queen to hide out in her daddy’s place.
I winced as images flashed through my mind. “Did you feel as though you went somewhere else?”
Maxen slid a look at me, and I knew the answer, though it took him a few seconds to respond. “It was . . . an odd hallucination.”
Oliver gave me a grim, pursed-lip glance.
“Yeah, I felt like I was a character in a scene.” Nicole passed a hand down the side of her face, as if reassuring herself that she was in her own body.
I blew out a noisy hiss of a breath through clenched teeth.
I looked at Oliver. “I think you’re right. The Stone didn’t work on us,” I said. “He tried it twice, and it didn’t work.”
No one had the breath to respond. None of us had any further answers, anyway.
We’d reached Oliver’s quarters. He passed his hand over the door, and it unlocked for him. He pushed me inside, rougher than necessary, but I could tell his adrenaline was still pumping full force.
I gulped air. “I need to get a message to Oberon,” I said.
“I’ll do it,” Maxen said.
My father gave me a hard look. “Don’t leave here until I come for you. Don’t open the door for anyone.”
Maxen and Oliver slipped out, and I went and bolted the door and then turned to my sister. She’d wrapped her arms around herself, and her eyes had gone glassy.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded, but she looked pale.
I took her elbow and guided her to Oliver’s chair. “Here, sit down. I’ll get you some water.”
As I filled a glass at the kitchenette sink, my thoughts tumbled and my stomach churned. I took the water to Nicole.
“What’s the Stone you were talking about?” she asked.
“The Stone of Fal,” I said.
I pulled off the heavy coronation robe, and having nowhere else to put it, I draped it over the kitchenette’s small peninsula counter. I happened to glance down at my bare arm and noticed the fine hairs on my skin were standing on end and moving back and forth in waves. There was another sensation,
too, this one through my entire body. A tiny electric current seemed to be sweeping through me in a rhythm, keeping time with my arm hair.
I turned to Nicole, who was sitting on the edge of the recliner with parted lips and splotched cheeks.
“Do you feel that?” I brushed my hand down my arm.
She slanted a look up at the ceiling and squinted. “I do feel something. A little shiver. Maybe it’s the delayed effect of the Stone. Maybe it takes time to work.” Her gaze sharpened on me, her face fearful.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Finvarra wouldn’t have left in a pissy huff if it’d worked. He’d have stuck around to see us grovel.”
I went over to her and gently pressed her shoulder back, encouraging her to relax into the chair. “Drink some water and try to take slow breaths. I don’t want you to get any more upset.”
She sipped from the glass and scooted deeper into the recliner. “Thank you, Petra. I mean, ugh! Damnit.”
A faint smile tugged at my lips. “It’s okay. Just don’t say those words to—”
“Anyone who might exact an oath from me,” she supplied. “I know, I know. I just forget the rules sometimes when I’m stressed.”
She absently dropped one hand to her belly, which at this early point in her pregnancy was still ballet-dancer flat.
I was just beginning to wonder how long we’d have to sit there waiting when I heard someone approach the door. I drew Aurora, even though only Oliver could access these quarters. I didn’t trust anything anymore.
“It’s me, Petra,” came my father’s voice just before the door unlatched.
He slipped inside and shut the door behind him. In one hand he held my discarded crown. He lifted the jeweled bronze circlet. “Emmaline saved it and gave it to me.”
I didn’t really want the crown, but he extended his arm, offering it. I reluctantly claimed it.
“Are her people all okay?” I asked.
“No deaths,” he said. He gestured impatiently to the crown. “You might as well put that on. It’s the safest place for it.”
It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I settled it on top of my head anyway. “Is there still fighting?”
He shook his head. “The situation’s been diffused. Maxen reached Oberon. He’s summoned you to go to him right away and give your account of what happened here with Finvarra and the Stone. We’ve got a clear path to a doorway.”
“How many of the attackers were caught?” I asked, my voice low.
His mouth hardened. “Only a handful captured. The rest of them escaped the fortress through doorways. They’re probably hiding out in other realms. We’ll have to put a price on their heads, of course, as soon as we know for sure which ones got away.”
I didn’t want to think about having to enforce the law on my would-be assassins. It would have to be dealt with, but for the moment I had to answer the High King’s summons.
“I don’t know the sigils to get into any Summerlands doorways,” I said.
Oliver pulled a folded piece of paper from in inner pocket of the ceremonial overcoat he still wore. “Yes, you do.”
I lifted my hand to take the note but then dropped my arm. “It seems a very bad time to leave the fortress,” I said, shaking my head gravely. “My first duty is here, to the Carraig.”
Oliver looked like he wanted to agree but said, “Petra, when the Seelie High King summons you, you have to go.”
I closed my eyes briefly. “You’re right. I’ll get back here as quickly as I can.” Turning to my sister, I put on what I hoped looked like an encouraging smile. “Rest. You’re safe here, and I’m sure Maxen will come for you soon.”
“Be careful, Petra,” she said. “Hurry back.”
I nodded and sheathed Aurora.
Oliver placed his hand on the door handle. “Ready?”
I took the folded note with the sigils. “Let’s go.”
He pushed the door open, and as soon as I stepped into the hallway, Emmaline and her troops, plus a few full-fledged Carraig soldiers, surrounded me. Oliver led the way as the group hurried me through the corridors to a courtyard. It was the same one I’d charged through, not knowing if my father was alive or dead, to escape the Duergar when Periclase had taken the fortress.
My guards took me right up to the arch. I unfolded the piece of paper and studied the sigils for a second, memorizing them. Then I began drawing the shapes in the air and murmuring the words that would take me into the netherwhere.
Suddenly aware of the soft grass under my feet, I remembered I wasn’t wearing any shoes. Too late. I stepped forward, and the chill embrace of the void claimed me.
Chapter 12
THE NETHERWHERE SPILLED me out beneath a giant maple tree just beyond the drawbridge of the Summerlands castle. The green expanse behind me was riddled with dark craters, evidence of the continued Unseelie attack. I didn’t linger to survey the damage.
Using both hands, I reached for the hem of my skirt, hiked it up to my knees, and sprinted for the stronghold. Someone saw me coming, and the bridge began to lower rapidly. It crashed down, and I scampered across, punching through the thick bubble of the protective magical ward.
Inside, a uniformed page in the livery of Oberon and Titania’s realm was running into the foyer where I stood.
He skidded to a halt and bowed hastily. “Your Majesty,” he said. “I was sent to bring you to Oberon right away.” Before turning to lead me to the High King, his eyes flicked down to my bare feet and registered quickly-restrained surprise.
I let my skirts fall back into their intended shape and tried not to think about the soft slap of my feet on the flagstones. I probably presented an interesting sight, my dress and hair mussed from the fight, and my crown on as if I were playing Queen. Usually rulers reserved their crowns for wearing at formal events. Not that I really cared about idle gossip, but I could just imagine people whispering about how the new Carraig queen ran around with the Champion’s sword on her back, her crown on her wild hair, and no shoes.
The page took me straight to Oberon’s study, where the High King was pacing the carpet in front of his desk. He was the only one in the room.
I made a quick curtsy. “Your Majesty.”
“Finvarra used the Stone in the fortress,” Oberon said, dispensing with all niceties.
“Yes, he appeared during my coronation,” I said. I swallowed, trying to catch my breath after my dash into the castle. “I believe he tried to use it twice.”
Oberon held up a hand and looked past me. “Hold on, I want him to hear what you have to say.”
I twisted to see a slim man with long white hair entering the office.
My brows lifted. “Eldon?” I turned back around to look at Oberon.
The High King nodded once. “We have a new ally.”
I narrowed my eyes at the Fae sorcerer as he approached us. He skirted a look at me, his expression unreadable. Stopping a few feet away, he bent in a quick bow. He was here, which meant he’d abandoned the Unseelie as he’d promised, but I wasn’t sure I trusted him.
“Your majesties,” he said.
“Now, tell us exactly what happened,” Oberon said to me.
“Of course, Your Highness,” I said. “Finvarra appeared in the auditorium of the fortress during my coronation ceremony. He had an object that must have been the Stone of Fal, and he appeared to try to invoke its power.”
Oberon stopped me, asking me to describe the Stone. I gave him as thorough a description as I could recall.
My gaze found Eldon as I continued. “Something happened when he tried to use it. I went to . . . another place. I inhabited the body of a female warrior, in a place and time that felt, well, old. Ancient, even. Others had similar experiences. In fact, I believe it’s possible every Carraig went to that place, too.”
Eldon turned to Oberon. “I believe it’s the god blood, Your Majesty,” he said in his thick brogue. “The Fomoire, is my guess.”
A bell went off in my head. The
Fomoire were the predecessors to the Tuatha De Danann. Actually, the Fomoire were the gods who were predecessors to the Tuatha’s predecessors. In the legends, the Nemedians, seafaring gods, had eradicated the Fomoire. Then the Tuatha had come along to do the same to the Nemedians. These were stories, or they had been, until I’d learned that the Tuatha weren’t just myths. They were very real.
Oberon’s forehead creased. “Describe exactly how it felt,” he said to me.
I explained the shockwaves, the feeling of disappearing from my surroundings and then coming back. “And I believe Finvarra tried again. Same result. He looked extremely angry by the time he left. He used a portal jewel to escape before we could get to him.”
The High King’s eyes gleamed, and his lips parted as his breath came quicker. “Do you realize what this means?”
“Finvarra has used two of his three chances with the Stone,” Eldon said. “And the Stone seems not to work on the Carraig.”
I inhaled a sharp breath.
The Fae sorcerer continued, “And further, it seemed to have activated the god blood in the whole population of Carraig and others with stone blood.”
I shook my head. “What does that mean? It felt like a body-switching hallucination, and one that we can’t control. What good does that do us?”
Oberon’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “It means the ancient blood runs through your people. It means you have the power of gods. If you can learn to use it, you can fight—”
“The Tuatha De Danann as equals.” I finished his sentence in a whisper. “Or something close, anyway.”
The High King and Eldon stared at me.
“But I don’t know anything about it. I have no idea how to use it,” I said. “If it’s true, I don’t know that it actually carries any power at all.”
“It does,” Eldon said, his voice low. He cut a sharp look at the High King before locking his intense gaze on me. “The Fomoire didn’t die. I heard whispers of this eons ago, that they disappeared underground to slumber, waiting for the time when they could awaken their power and take their revenge. Patiently abiding until the time came for them to take revenge on the usurpers who took their land. To emerge and reclaim their place as the gods of the realm. The god race who defeated the Fomoire is now gone, but the Tuatha took their place.”
