by K. J. Sutton
“Because I made it clear that I wanted it separate,” I hissed back, stopping to fully confront her. Lyari faced me with a stubborn set to her jaw. “My role down there and my life up here aren’t connected. They can’t be. The only perk of being queen is being able to keep humans safe, to make sure the people I love are never hurt again. Damn it, Lyari.”
I swung away, rubbing my forehead. If anyone in town had been hurt as a result of the Guardians being here, it was my fault. Had there been any rumors? Any articles in the paper? I’d been so consumed by my own pain that I hadn’t been looking for anyone else’s. I could order the guards not to harm a single human, of course, but they were faeries—they’d been taking whatever they wanted for thousands of years, without consequences or conscience.
I let out a breath, hoping it would calm me, and walked back to Lyari. My hands balled into fists as I met her gaze. “No more secrets. Not one. If I find out you’ve kept anything else from me, you will know the true wrath of a Nightmare. Are we clear?”
We stared at each other. I’d never peered so intently into Lyari’s eyes, and at this proximity, I could make out the rings within her irises. The silence between us felt dark and cold, like a winter night. “We are clear, Your Majesty,” my Right Hand said evenly. A single strand of her hair lifted in a breeze.
Thankfully, she didn’t point out that I’d been hesitant to use my abilities since Collith’s death. Some of the tension eased out of my body, and I held back a sigh. “Good. Is there anything else you need to tell me, then?”
“No, Queen Fortuna.”
I waited a beat, giving her a chance to change her mind. But Lyari just looked back at me and said nothing. Slowly, I turned and started walking again. We were silent the rest of the way to the entrance. Finn stayed closer to me than usual, and every once in a while, his solid warmth brushed against my hip. I didn’t spot any more Guardians, but now that I knew they were there, any sense of calm I’d achieved was shattered. Almost unconsciously, I tangled my hand in Finn’s fur and left it there.
The moss that once hung over the opening to the Unseelie Court had long since withered and died. The first time I’d stepped inside, I had thought of it as a mouth, black and bottomless. Swallowing me whole. Now I wasn’t sure what it looked like to me.
Minutes later, when I finally stepped into Collith’s rooms, they were empty. I’d been half-hoping Laurie would be waiting with a mischievous smile and a flirtatious remark. For a moment, I lingered near the door, feeling more alone than I ever had. It was a different sort of loneliness than what I experienced during those days of Damon being missing or the night in the dungeon. Now so much depended on me, so many lives and decisions, and I still didn’t know who I could fully trust. Tonight the throne beside mine would be empty again, and the air ripe with suspicion toward me.
Swallowing a weary groan, I forced myself to approach the wardrobe. Finn moved toward the corner, where there was a pile of bones he’d been accumulating. The sound of crunching filled my ears as I chose a gown at random and pulled it on. It was another black one, as that was what I seemed drawn to these days. It was less intricate than the others I’d worn, but no less dramatic. Sleeveless, made from a combination of leather and lace, the bodice looked like it could hide a dozen knives. Like I was ready to fight for my life. This was accentuated by a long slit in the skirt, which exposed my boots and would allow me to literally kick someone’s ass if the need arose.
The standing mirror Laurie had brought awaited near the fireplace. I found the small makeup bag he’d left in a drawer and moved toward the glass. After a few minutes of struggling, I settled for liquid eyeliner and a dusting of blush. Makeup wasn’t my strong suit. Hair even less so. I ran a brush through the tangles and gathered it into a high ponytail. Combined with the eyeliner, the effect was pretty badass, if I didn’t say so myself.
Nuvian was waiting in the passageway when I emerged. His hair hung over his shoulders in golden dreadlocks, framing a face that could inspire sculptures. He wore the armor I was half-convinced had permanently fused to his body, as I had yet to see him out of it. There were so many Guardians behind him that it looked like a bizarre parade.
“Is it just me, or have you added a few more guards?” I said tightly, thinking of the faeries he’d set loose in my world. But that conversation would have to wait—if I challenged Nuvian now, in front of his warriors, it would only infuriate him.
As always, Nuvian stared at my forehead, rather than meet my eyes. I could never tell if it was an attempt to guard himself from my power or just a snub. “Per request of the Tongue,” he replied.
His tone was curt, bordering on insolence, and I knew Lyari would want me to put him in his place. But I was tired—God, I was tired—and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. “Why?” I asked instead. “Because of the assassination attempts?”
Nuvian didn’t acknowledge the question. After a stilted moment, Lyari answered for him. “Whenever there is a shift in power, it sends out a call, of sorts,” she said, her voice drifting to me from behind. “Creatures come from other lands and dimensions, responding to it. The Tongue’s request is a precaution.”
Swords clinked and armor creaked as we made our way toward the throne room. I’d become so accustomed to the dirt and darkness that my mind wandered. “I keep forgetting to ask,” I said suddenly, remembering the mystery that had been niggling at me for two days. “What were they? The things I killed by the river, I mean?”
Once again, Lyari was the one to answer. “We don’t know, Your Majesty. They were like nothing either of us had ever seen before.”
Hearing this, my stomach gave an anxious flutter. Had my coronation brought a new species of Fallen to Granby? What if there were more of them?
“Don’t forget about the feast afterward,” Nuvian said without looking at me. I stared at him blankly for a moment, still thinking about those strange creatures I’d encountered. When his words did finally register, I almost stopped, right there in the middle of the passageway. Shit. I’d forgotten about the feast. It was the Tongue’s idea, of course—a way to get back into the fae’s good graces. Who could stay mad when you were plying them with free food and booze?
There was no chance to respond to Nuvian, because we’d arrived at the Mural of Ulesse. Every time I gazed up at those violent, colorful paintings, it seemed like I always noticed something different about them. My gaze flitted over a scene of redcaps hunched around a table. The artist hadn’t revealed whatever they were eating, but I could guess. A sour taste filled my mouth. I ducked my head and followed Nuvian toward the wide, stone doorway.
A faerie noticed us crossing the room and rushed to catch up. “Your Majesty,” he whispered urgently, “I’d hoped to catch you alone. I wanted to say, that is, you must know that I’m utterly in love with—”
I directed a single, irritated glance toward Lyari, who instantly seized the male’s arm and yanked him back. My Guardian’s low, lethal voice faded behind me as I reached the threshold of the throne room.
The sight that greeted us was vastly different than that of a month ago—I had made some changes in this cavernous space, during my brief time as queen. Gone were the tapestries that once hung on the walls, depicting scenes of fae brutality and depravity. In their place were paintings that had just been gathering dust in a vast storage room, which I’d discovered after Lyari mentioned its existence in passing. The colorful images ranged from a meadow, to a herd of elephants, to a great tree, to a pair of shining gates.
Down the length of the room, instead of a blood-colored rug running toward the thrones like a river, I’d put instead rugs of all shapes and hues. The effect was startlingly cozy. I had also ordered vases of flowers to be placed strategically throughout and vines to be entwined around the towering pillars of stone. None of which the Court’s event planner had been too thrilled about, considering I’d freed the slaves who had once done such work for him.
All I had not changed were the thrones
themselves. Collith’s still rested besides mine, and it had the feel of a ghost, haunting all the rest of us. My own chair, which wore the face of the Leviathan I’d killed, also felt like a presence throughout my every edict and decision.
As I settled on the hard seat and raised my gaze, I didn’t need a supernatural bond to know that a majority of the crowd loathed me—only their fear of my power kept them in check. Well, that, and fear of Finn, who currently rested at my feet like an oversized dog. Except most dogs didn’t have the ability to tear someone’s arm off or open their stomachs with a single swipe.
I looked out at them without flinching. It had become second nature to hide every thought and feeling while I was on that dais. Giving someone a glimpse of what was in your mind was giving them power, no matter how little. So, as I appraised tonight’s gathering of bloodlines, they had absolutely none over me. But they couldn’t say the same. I’d noticed that the females of the Unseelie Court—and some males, too, honestly—came to the throne room wearing outfits eerily similar to ones I’d appeared in. However much they hated me, they envied me. I wanted to tell them it was an illusion, that being beautiful or formidable was mostly just… lonely.
To my displeasure, there were also some battered-looking humans amongst the gathering tonight. My mouth tightened at the sight of them. Despite my having freed the Court slaves, many of them remained anyway, probably because they had no other home or it was all they knew. But good had still come of my new law—weeks ago, I’d gone back to that hole where Annika and the child had been living, but found it empty.
At that moment, Nuvian caught my eye, and I gave him a barely perceptible nod. The sooner we got started, the sooner I could go home, get in my pajamas, and polish off that pint of cookie dough ice cream in the freezer.
The steady hum of voices quickly faded, and Nuvian began his usual speech in Enochian. For the first time, I was able to recognize a handful of words. I’d been studying during my breaks at the bar, and in the woods with Lyari, and before falling asleep every night. Nuvian was saying something about tradition.
Just as he finished addressing the Court, an enormous male moved forward. This was a face I didn’t recognize, and I struggled to hide the frown pulling at my mouth. When I wasn’t learning their language, I had taken to memorizing bloodlines, photographs, portraits, and anything else I could get my hands on. Even fae who didn’t live at Court were in the records I’d consumed.
Whoever he was, this stranger emanated menace. Long, ginger hair hung over a gaunt face. He had hard gray eyes, set deep within their sockets. Every part of exposed skin was covered in what I hoped was crusted mud. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a jungle after a disastrous expedition, and judging from the expressions of faeries standing around him, he smelled like it, too.
I waited for him to bow. Instead, he lifted his bearded chin and met my gaze with open defiance. “There are rumors, Nightmare. They’re saying you murdered our king,” he said. His voice was made of thunder and earthquakes.
There was an instant of stunned silence, and then the room burst into sound.
Shouts of agreement, speculative murmurs, and cries of outrage bounced off the walls. Finn got to his feet, hackles raised and teeth bared. But if the crowd surged forward, neither he or the Guardians would be able to save me. Panic gripped me by the throat, and my grip tightened involuntarily on the armrests of my throne. If I didn’t act now, the fae might begin to suspect that something was wrong with my powers, or my ability to use them. There would be nothing to stop these creatures from taking their vengeance on me or resurrecting the slavetrade.
Some of my subjects had already noticed something amiss—I caught a female staring at me with an intrigued expression. It was obvious even with the strange, golden flakes covering half her face like tinfoil.
Before I could respond to the stranger’s accusation, Lyari’s voice rang through the room. “You will use her correct title, Thuridan of bloodline Sarwraek,” she called.
Sarwraek? I thought dimly. It felt like the blood in my veins had frozen. While the room quieted again, I stared harder at Thuridan. In an instant, I could see Jassin in his features, and I wondered if he was a brother or a son to the faerie I’d killed. This one’s face was wider, his mouth fuller, but they had the same coloring. The same cruel glint in their eyes.
“Or what? You’ll cut me down?” Thuridan countered, a note of challenge in the words. He lowered his voice—for dramatic effect, of course, as we were surrounded by creatures with supernatural hearing. “I wouldn’t put it past you, of course. We all know your mind will break sooner or later. Like mother, like daughter.”
Lyari’s expression didn’t change, but our bond allowed me to feel the burst of pain this faerie’s words caused her. In the time I’d known her, I had never seen Lyari so much as flinch, and I didn’t like that someone had managed to hurt her now.
Power, dark and eager, slid through my veins.
“What’s your name again?” I asked pleasantly, my hold on the armrests loosening.
Those gray eyes refocused on me. There was no trace of fear or desire within their depths as he replied, “Thuridan, Your Majesty.”
“How pretty. Now, tell me, do you have a death wish, Thuridan?” The question only made him quirk a brow. I knew this game was dangerous, potentially catastrophic, but a spark of my old self had flared to life and I couldn’t bring myself to snuff it out. I leaned forward, feeling tense and coiled, like a snake about to strike. “This entire Court has seen me reduce your kind to mortals or shells of who they once were. So you must have a death wish, because right now, you’re really pissing me off.”
Even if Thuridan wasn’t worried about his fate, the rest of the Court was. Their whispers and murmurs filled the cavernous space. I felt their fear, rising in the air like a heady cologne. I wanted to walk amongst them, nostrils flared, and breathe it in. The large faerie turned and took in his people’s reactions. When he faced me again, he finally had the good sense to hide his disdain. His expression became a mask of neutrality. “I didn’t mean to offend, Queen Fortuna,” he told me in a clipped voice.
“Yes, you did. You’re surprisingly bad at this game, though. Are you sure you’re related to Jassin?”
Thuridan’s eyes flashed. “You dare use his name?”
His tone made Finn growl. The low rumble went through the wolf’s entire frame and echoed through the air. Unease finally stirred in Thuridan’s eyes. I stood up and descended the uneven steps, my long train dragging behind me. At this proximity, the faerie’s smell was so overwhelming that it stung my nostrils. Before he could move back, I grasped his chin between my thumb and finger. His fears came to me like old friends, warm and eager. I waited for the guilt to come, too, but once again there was none. Maybe I really was getting better.
“Unless you want to be skinned alive, which apparently is a fear you have, you will get out of my sight,” I told Thuridan calmly. There was a promise hidden within my simple words, and from his reaction, I knew he heard it. “Now.”
Thuridan looked at me with fear, arousal, and rage warring in his eyes. He jerked out of my grasp and stormed away. His thundering footsteps—very unlike a faerie—felt like the notes of a song that had only just begun. I returned to my throne and took advantage of the Court’s distraction, gesturing to Lyari. She started to move toward me, but a new voice sliced through the stillness.
“His Majesty, Laurelis of the bloodline Dondarte, King of the Seelie Court!”
No fucking way. My head snapped around just as the sea of fae parted. In the next moment, Laurie was there, striding down the center of the room. Three faeries flanked him, one on each side and one behind. The Seelie King had dressed to impress. Around his shoulders rested a feather shrug, the silky-looking feathers glistening back, green, and violet beneath the light of the chandeliers. He wore no shirt beneath, which allowed the entire Court to see his pale, ridged stomach. His pants were dark and torn in several places, allowing
glimpses of the muscled legs beneath. Muscles I hadn’t been entirely aware Laurie had. A sword hung at his slender hip, long and silver, like a relic from another time.
What the hell was he doing here?
The Tongue hurried forward as I tried to pinpoint Laurie’s motives. It was common knowledge that Collith and Laurelis had a dark past—it had never been explicitly stated, but everyone knew the Seelie King wasn’t welcome at our Court. The fact that he’d now come twice in so many weeks had set the fae ablaze with gossip. Once more, their murmurs filled my ears.
“This is not how things are done,” the Tongue muttered, keeping his body angled toward me to prevent others from reading his lips. His large forehead shone with perspiration. “In years past, His Majesty sent an emissary. Highly irregular that he’s come himself.”
Laurie halted at the base of the dais. He arched his head back, looking like he was suppressing a smile. “Greetings to Queen Fortuna, Conquerer of the Leviathan, Challenger of the Fearless, and Slayer of the Undead.”
That was a new one. I gave Laurie a frown to convey how thrilled I was with his addition to my accolades. Already I saw faeries taking note of it, spreading it through the rest of the bloodlines. By sunrise tomorrow, every single one of them would know what the Seelie King had said. Even the ones that lived aboveground.
“What brings you to the Unseelie Court, King Laurelis?” I asked, hoping no one else could hear my heart, beating against the wall of my chest like a fist. Laurie was up to something. Don’t make my life more difficult than it already is, you slippery bastard.
“I’ve come to propose peace,” the silver-haired faerie announced, his eyes gleaming like newly-hewn diamonds.
“Peace,” I repeated. It seemed the safest response. My mind was still racing.
“Indeed. Between our two Courts. An alliance forged out of union.”
If I’d thought the fae were loud after Thuridan’s display, they were deafening after Laurie’s. Either I wasn’t hiding my chagrin as well as I thought, or the Tongue had learned to read me, because he learned close again and said, speaking louder than normal to be heard over the din, “King Laurelis is suggesting a mating ceremony between the two of you, my queen.”
