by K. J. Sutton
“I can’t say for sure, because I wasn’t there for parts of it, but if I had to guess? I’d say that Úna bribed the Guardians that were supposed to be watching me. She wanted to get me alone so she could…” I clenched my jaw, unable to say the rest. Lyari was silent, which meant she’d already put it together. We stayed on the phone, even as the seconds marched past and neither of us spoke. Finally I cleared my throat and added, “Did you get my text?”
She matched my brisk tone. “I haven’t looked at any messages yet. I called you as soon as I reached the surface.”
Once she saw it, we’d probably be having an even longer conversation. One I’d have with her later, because I wanted to find Collith before he went into the barn for another twenty-four hours. If he wasn’t in there already. “Okay, well, once you read it, take some deep breaths and wait for at least an hour before you call me back.”
“Why can’t you just tell me what you—”
Hanging up, I hurried back into the house and locked the door behind me. It would do nothing to keep Gwyn out, but it made me feel better, so I secured the chain for good measure. Collith will probably be in his room, I thought. I started walking toward the back hallway.
I jerked to a halt when I saw Emma. She stood in front of the sink, a spot which provided a perfect view of the yard. Her skin was aglow from the sunlight streaming inside. Her wrinkled palms cupped a coffee mug that said, FUCK THIS SHIT.
“Good morning,” she said with her customary smile. “How did you sleep?”
She didn’t see anything, I thought with a rush of relief. I murmured a greeting back to her and moved toward the coffee maker. I took a mug of my own out of the cupboard. The thought of trying to eat after the encounter with Gwyn made my stomach churn, but coffee might be just what I needed to paste on a mask of optimism.
Emma leaned against the edge of the counter. Light shone through the threadbare fabric of her pink robe. “Who were those people? Friends of yours?” she questioned, tilting her head.
I went still. My heart, however, went into overdrive. “What people?” I asked carefully, putting the coffee pot back.
“All those bikers,” Emma answered, raising her gray brows. “Do you think they’d be willing to take me on a ride?”
“No.” I said it too quickly. Even I heard the note of panic in my voice. I cleared my throat and held my coffee tighter, seeking comfort in its warmth. It made sense that Gwyn glamoured the Hunt—most humans would take one look at their gruesome faces and run. “Emma, those aren’t nice people. Promise me you won’t go with them. Please.”
She gave me a puzzled frown. This was the part where Maureen, my adoptive mother, would’ve demanded explanations or reasons. But Emma Miller just said, her voice ringing with trust, “All right. I promise, sweetheart.”
I let out a breath and my heart slowed. “Thank you.”
The old woman studied me, her brown eyes alight with concern. Whatever she saw in my expression made her decide not to pursue the topic. She pushed off the counter in a surprisingly limber movement. “The house sold, by the way,” she said as she poured more coffee into her mug, steam rising toward her face. Its rich aroma filled the air. “We should celebrate! Are you free tonight? How about we make some margaritas?”
I didn’t answer, because her words were going around in my head. The house sold. She was talking about the home she and Fred had shared in Denver. It meant she was staying here, with us, for good. All this time, I hadn’t told Emma the truth of what I was—what Damon and Finn were, what Matthew probably was, once his abilities manifested—because I’d been afraid having knowledge of our world would endanger her. But not knowing was putting her in even more jeopardy. If Emma was truly going to be part of this family, she needed to be aware of what she was up against. Who our enemies were and what they were capable of.
The conversation with Collith would have to wait.
“Emma, will you sit down with me?” I asked, trying to hide how nervous I was. “I think it’s time we finally had that talk.”
Once again, something in my voice made her pause. After a moment, the old woman went to the cupboard where Cyrus kept the liquor. She opened it, took out a bottle of Kahlúa, and plunked it down on the table. She sat down and gave me a smile that said whatever I was about to tell her wouldn’t change anything. “Okay, ready.”
I took a breath… and went back to the beginning.
Reeking of coffee and deep-fried food, I trudged into the house.
It was mid-morning, the day after I’d made an agreement with Gwyn of the Wild Hunt. Things at the bar had been slow, so Bea sent me home earlier than usual. I couldn’t deny that I didn’t mind the extra time at home. If this kept happening, though, it could delay finding a new place.
Not that it would matter if I didn’t find Creiddylad. A search I still had no idea where to start.
As I closed the door, I was faintly surprised to see Collith sitting at the kitchen table. Any thoughts about finances blew away. He wore a black button-up that was covered in sawdust, and there was a streak of something along his left cheekbone. A cup of coffee was next to his hand. “It’s good to see you. You look tired,” the faerie king said.
“Why, thank you,” I deadpanned. I took off my coat, hung it off the back of the chair across from him, and sank down onto the chair myself. “I’m glad you finally left the barn. I need to tell you something.”
Collith stood up and moved toward the coffee pot. “Very well. Is this the sort of conversation that requires liquor?”
“Isn’t that the case with most of our conversations?” I asked, only half-joking.
I heard the clink of silverware against glass. When Collith turned back, he held a coffee mug similar to his. He set it in front of me without comment, and I saw instantly that he’d added just the right amount of cream. I pulled the cup close to me and cupped it in both palms, as if the warmth could ward off my fear. “Gwyn paid another visit yesterday. She offered me more time,” I told him.
“In exchange for what?” Collith asked instantly, returning to his chair. Before I could answer, he shook his head. “Wait. Of course. Gwyn wants Creiddylad—that’s what she’s always wanted. She’s been clever, I’ll give her that. When she heard the new queen was a Nightmare, she probably made herself available to a courtier with a known grudge against you, in order to secure the immunity of the Hunt. She’d also be able to find you wherever you were, wherever you went.”
The intricacies of Gwyn’s plan didn’t interest me. Not when it displayed a vast patience and intelligence that I didn’t possess, making it clear I had no chance of outmaneuvering her. “Do you know where Creiddylad is?” I ventured, daring to hope it could be that easy.
His jaw was tight. “I don’t.”
I hesitated, then forced myself to say, “What about Naevys? She has a history with Gwyn. Out of anyone, she might be our best—”
“No.” Collith was already shaking his head, and there was a storm brewing in his hazel eyes. “It was because of that connection to Gwyn the council didn’t trust my mother. They never would’ve told her where Creiddylad is.”
It made sense, but it also meant that finding Creiddylad wouldn’t be easy. If I even wanted to find her—the consequences of giving Gwyn what she wanted were vague but worrying. If the Wild Hunt no longer answered to the faerie courts, how far would they go with that freedom? Would they slaughter humans in the streets? Expose our existence to all of mankind? I stared down into my coffee without really seeing it. “Why hasn’t she done this to you? Or to your father?” I asked tonelessly.
The mention of Sylvyre made Collith’s lips thin. “It’s public knowledge the Seelie and Unseelie rulers know nothing of Creiddylad’s location. We aren’t even told who guards the secret, to avoid being put in the exact position you’re in now.”
“She knows the effect fear has on people,” I said slowly, thinking of the predatory gleam in her eye. “She knows I could get the information I wanted from th
em. Easily.”
My gaze fell on Matthew’s highchair. Suddenly I wondered why Gwyn had gone to such lengths—if she’d threatened a single member of my family, I would’ve done anything she wanted, no questions asked.
“It’s what keeps Gwyn from completely being a monster. She has one limit, one boundary between her and irredeemable depravity—she won’t harm her quarry’s loved ones,” Collith said. I blinked at him. Somehow, he’d guessed my thoughts, even now that our mating bond was gone.
Despite the horrible circumstances we were in, I gave him a searching look, feeling something inside me warm.
In the next moment, Emma entered the kitchen. She drew up short and glanced between us, as if she was worried she’d interrupted something. Collith took another drink of his coffee. I followed suit, averting my gaze. “How was—” Emma started.
Lyari appeared next to the table. “Your Majesty.”
Everyone in the room jumped and looked at her. The faerie’s expression was tight, but it couldn’t be about Gwyn—we’d already argued about that yesterday. It also wasn’t like her to cut Emma off, who Lyari had developed an undeniable fondness toward.
“Your presence is required,” Lyari said, answering the question in my eyes.
I sighed and pushed away from the table. “I’ll get my coat.”
A half hour later, I entered the room where today’s council meeting would be.
The air smelled like fresh flowers. There was a painting hanging on the wall—a portrait—and a single glance told me instantly whose rooms these were. The artist had managed to capture Chandrelle’s remote expression. She sat in a high-backed chair, surrounded by those undoubtedly of her bloodline, but there was no joy or pride in her ageless face. Her posture was perfect. She stared at the artist in a way that, somehow, made it obvious she had all the time in the world, and she would sit there until the painting was finished.
I turned my gaze to Chandrelle herself, who now sat at an enormous dining room table. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and a gold watch glinted on her delicate wrist. Her outfit was more modern than the last time I’d seen her—the elegant gown had been replaced by a pencil skirt and a loose, white blouse. She looked like a CEO or a person who regularly spearheaded elaborate fundraisers. Hell, for all I knew, that was exactly what she did. The fae had been puppet masters for centuries, tugging at strings on every continent. If it wasn’t a faerie sitting in the seat of power, there was one behind it, whispering in the fool’s ear.
There were several others at the table, every one of them staring at me with their ancient, veiled eyes. By now, I recognized all of them.
Fighting my usual sense of insecurity and fear—I was a child, compared to the number of years these creatures had been alive—I strode to the chair at the head of the table, gathered my skirts, and sat. I met Chandrelle’s gaze because she was closest to me, and we’d met in her quarters. It seemed safe to assume she was the one who called this meeting.
“You rang?” I asked cheerfully. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lyari shift. Probably reaching for her sword in case one of these faeries leapt at me.
Chandrelle’s flawless chignon gleamed in the firelight, revealing strands of silver within the brown. “It has come to our attention that Gwyn made you a proposition.”
I found Lyari, pinning her with my gaze, and silently asked the question. Did you tell them?
She responded with a barely perceptible shake of her head. Seeing it, my rush of betrayal faded. Why was I so surprised? I’d known there were spies in this Court. I’d known there were eyes on me at every moment.
I had just never been so blatantly reminded of it.
Schooling my expression into a bland mask, I met Chandrelle’s gaze. Did they know Gwyn was here to hunt me? No, it was impossible. The vultures at the Unseelie Court would already be circling my throne if they knew it would soon be vacant.
“Yes, she did,” I said at last. “Gwyn offered to… give me something I want in exchange for Creiddylad.”
Micah’s voice was mutinous. “You’re a fool if you think—”
I whirled on him, and for a wonderful moment, I felt like the person I’d once been. Wild and reckless and stupid. “You know, we all have something to contribute to this conversation, and I think your contribution should be silence,” I told him.
Chandrelle stood up, and the entire table went silent. Her fingers formed steeples on the table. She looked at me as if I were the only person in the room, and the intensity of it was unnerving. “I would like to respectfully remind you, Your Majesty, of the vow you made.”
It was my first instinct to snap back at her, as I had with Micah, but I reined myself in. With effort, I took two or three slow breaths. “I haven’t forgotten, Lady Chandrelle,” I said evenly. “Gwyn may have offered a deal, but I didn’t say I accepted it.”
Another silence fell. Most of the faeries here were good at hiding their emotions, and I couldn’t tell if they regarded me with surprise or suspicion. Once again, Chandrelle was the one to speak. “If what you say is true, then we are most fortunate to have such a strong queen. I’m sure there’s no need to remind you of what would happen if Gwyn were to regain custody of her lover.”
“There would be nothing to stop her from wreaking havoc upon both humans and Fallen like,” another council member chimed in, her honeyed voice at odds with the dark words. “Both worlds would fall into chaos.”
I bit my tongue to hold back another cutting response.
Fortunately, the meeting ended shortly after that. Even if there were some who didn’t believe that I’d denied Gwyn’s offer, nothing short of a truth spell could prove it. I was the picture of detachment as I made my way to the door and the passageway beyond, but with every step, I resisted the urge to haul up my skirts and run. We stopped at Collith’s rooms so I could change, and then we were back in the woods. It was all becoming so normal to me, and I couldn’t decide if I found the realization disturbing.
Lyari broke her silence when we were halfway home. “You lied to them.”
“Not quite,” I said without looking at her. It wasn’t as cold as it had been the night before, but the tips of my nose and fingers still went numb. I brought my hands up to blow on them. “I told them, ‘I didn’t say I accepted it’, and that was true. I didn’t say those words tonight.”
Her tone was full of begrudging admiration. “Well, you bought yourself some time, at least. If the council thought you were going to help Gwyn, they might’ve attempted to remove you from the throne themselves. Or worse.”
I didn’t want to know what Lyari considered worse.
Before I could ask her, something hard and wet exploded against my head. I stumbled, my eyes widening with shock, and I whirled. Damon poked his head out from behind a gnarled oak—Lyari and I must’ve been closer to the house than I thought—and our eyes met. He ducked out of sight too late.
“Oh, you’re dead.” I launched after him, dripping and shouting. He was already gathering more ammunition, his gloved fingers frantically scraping at the ground. Matthew stood next to him, watching us with wide eyes.
A few minutes later, I swung around to find Lyari, my arm arched back to throw a snowball at her. But she was gone. Then a sound echoed through the air, distracting me. It was fragile, yet hopeful, like something green in spring. I realized what it was and froze.
Matthew was laughing.
It was the first time I’d heard that particular sound. Damon had asked Emma, more than once, if he should make a doctor appointment for his son. Secretly, I’d been worried it indicated a bigger problem than slow development. In spite of what some people thought, children noticed quite a bit—their voices were just quieter than everyone else’s. What had Matthew seen while he was being raised by a necromancer? Had he witnessed something since he’d come to live here?
But all of that worry had been for nothing. Because here he was, in the snow, laughing as if he’d been doing it his entire life.
&n
bsp; Damon carried Matthew back to me, and together, we walked in the direction of the house. When the little boy started squirming, Damon set him back down. The toddler rushed away, wearing so many layers that he was waddling. Damon watched him go, his eyes bright with amusement.
“It suits you,” I commented, the sight of him making a flower bloom in my chest.
My brother reluctantly pulled his attention away from Matthew. “What does?”
“Fatherhood.”
At this, Damon shot me a look full of gratitude. Before I could say anything else, his gaze shifted to something over my shoulder. “I better go check on Matthew,” he said.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. A moment later, I figured out why—Collith appeared next to me. I could hear the swish-swish-swish of Matthew’s snow pants as Damon chased him through the trees again. I kept my eyes on them as I said, “Twice in one day. How did I get so lucky?”
Collith made an unamused sound, and he, too, became absorbed in watching Matthew laugh. While the Unseelie King was distracted, I quickly bent over and scraped some snow together, forming another ball in my glove.
“Hey, Collith?” I said. He turned back to me, and he was smiling. It was the first time I had seen that smile since he’d come back from Hell, and for a moment, it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
When I kept gawking, his expectant look turned into a frown. “Is something—” he began.
I brought my fist out from behind me and shoved the snowball into his face. Collith sputtered. There was no chance for him to retaliate, because Matthew ran toward us. His face was red with cold, but he was smiling from ear to ear.
“Are you ready to head back?” I asked him in an overly exuberant voice. “Should we go inside and get warm?”
Damon moved to walk on Matthew’s other side. If Collith tried to attack me, odds were good that he’d get one of them instead. The look he gave me promised that our battle wasn’t over. That it had, in fact, only just begun. I gave him a sweet smile in return and turned to listen to my nephew laugh some more.
