by K. J. Sutton
“I’m looking for Creiddylad,” I admitted after a long pause. I opted not to tell her that finding Creiddylad would save the king Viessa had once tried to kill.
“And if I tell you what I know, what then? You don’t honor your word. I have nothing to gain from this conversation.”
“This is not a time for bargains,” I hissed, gripping the bars tightly. It felt like I was coming down from a bad trip—my veins were jittery and I wanted to run from this place. But the next step after Viessa was going to the council members, and if they wouldn’t willingly tell me what I needed to know, I would have to force it out of them. I worried my soul wouldn’t survive that.
The thought had a strange calming effect on me, and I felt my face harden. I raised my gaze to the spot I thought Viessa was standing. “This is an order from your fucking queen. You want to know what you have to gain? Your life. Because I need to find Creiddylad and I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Silence fell. I could feel Viessa looking at me. Reassessing. I stood there, in dark and firelight, and allowed my power to saturate the air itself. Moans and cries echoed up and down the corridor.
“All I know is that one of the original council members hid her,” Viessa said. There was no flavor on my tongue, but I knew she was afraid. “This member gave the location to one other. It was a safeguard, you see. Two secret keepers. Two bloodlines. Should one of them perish, Creiddylad’s location would not be lost. Who can say whether that secret survived, though?”
Shit. This meant that I really did need to speak with the council members—they were literally the only ones in the world who knew where Gwyn’s lover was. While the notion of hurting Micah didn’t cause me much discomfort, I tried to imagine doing the same to Chandrelle or the others. Most of them hadn’t personally done anything to me or my family. “And you don’t know which bloodlines? You’ve never heard a rumor or a whisper of the name?” I pressed, wincing at the edge of desperation in my voice.
The assassin finally shifted into the light. I couldn’t see her face, but the flames flickered over her half-starved body, still covered in the rags she’d been wearing last time we spoke. Viessa lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “Even my knowledge has its limits. From this point forward, you’re on your own, Queen Fortuna.”
I believed her—there was a coldness in her voice that had nothing to do with ice or magic. Footsteps sounded again and, seconds later, Nuvian reappeared. He stopped beside a torch and his braids gleamed. “Are you finished here, Your Majesty?”
“For now.” I didn’t thank Viessa, but I made sure to say the next part in front of her. “Get this prisoner a change of clothes, please. Warm and clean ones. She will also receive some blankets and a hot meal. If I find out my orders weren’t followed, I’ll send the Guardians responsible into Death Bringer’s chambers. I’m sure he’d enjoy that.”
Nuvian bent in a sorry excuse for a bow, and I started walking toward the stairs.
“Wait.” Viessa’s voice rang into the stillness. Against my better judgement, I looked at her again. She had her face pressed against the bars, and the effect was eerie. Like a wraith from a dark fairy tale. Frost clung to her red hair. “Twice now I have helped you. Twice you have walked away without paying a price. There will not be a third. And I will collect my boon very soon.”
A response didn’t seem necessary, so I kept walking. The promise followed me down the row of cells and back up the stairs. Nuvian stayed in the dungeons, and there was still no sign of Laurie. I emerged into the tunnel alone.
I saw Lyari instantly, who seemed to be pacing. She whirled when she heard my shoes crunch over the dirt. “Why would you speak with Viessa again?” the Guardian demanded without preamble. “No good can come of it. You should stay away from—”
I grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. I expected Lyari to fight my hold, but apparently she trusted me more than I realized. Putting my lips next to her ear, I spoke so quietly that no one except a faerie or a werewolf would be able to hear. “Gwyn took Collith. She thought it would motivate me to find Creiddylad faster.”
I moved away and saw that something in Lyari’s eyes had changed. It was the same focus that brought me here, willing to do anything to get Collith back. “My current plan is to... speak with every council member,” I told her, putting heavy emphasis on the word speak.
Lyari didn’t respond right away. There was a line between her eyebrows, and she stared at the wall behind me with a concentrated expression. Something kept me from asking her what was wrong—it felt like I would be interrupting, somehow. A few seconds later, Lyari raised her gaze, looking as if she’d made a decision that caused her physical pain.
“I think I have another way,” she said finally. At my questioning look, Lyari seemed to swallow a sigh. “Follow me, Your Majesty.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, hurrying after her.
But of course, she didn’t answer. I followed the tall faerie through passageways I’d never seen before. It felt like we were going west, but there was no way of knowing underground. Not without a damn compass. We passed doors with brand-new carvings—new to me, at least—and the earth itself gradually changed. The dry dirt became clay, and it was obvious more care had gone into these tunnels. The paths were even and the ceiling was high, lessening the effect of being so far beneath the earth’s surface.
At long last, Lyari halted in front of a door that was covered in carvings of swords. It seemed fitting for my fierce Right Hand. “Will you wait here for a moment?” she asked, oblivious to my thoughts.
I nodded. Lyari slipped behind the door, and suddenly I found myself surrounded by quiet. Quiet wasn’t good, because now I could hear the anxious voices at the back of my head, saying Collith’s name over and over. I reached for my phone. It was useless down here, but it was still a distraction.
As I scrolled through my photo albums, which were essentially made up of Matthew’s face, I realized I had no pictures of us together. Me and Collith.
What if Gwyn had killed him? There wouldn’t be a single image to remember him by. Not a scrap of nostalgia to comfort me when the grief became too much.
Good thing Collith isn’t dying, then. I shoved the phone back into my pocket and stared at the sword carvings, memorizing the faded edges and intricate detail. Moments later, an appealing scent greeted my senses, and it was becoming as familiar as anyone in my family’s. “Where have you been?” I asked in a monotone, hiding how much this disturbed me.
Laurie leaned one shoulder against the wall. His hair looked like copper in the flickering light. “Elsewhere.”
I gave him a humorless smile. “You were calling in some favors, weren’t you? You’re trying to find Creiddylad, because you want to save Collith just as badly as I do.”
Laurie started to respond, and Lyari chose that moment to open the door. Her eyes flicked to the Seelie King. The vulnerability I’d seen earlier was gone, and she wore her best Guardian face now—however she felt about me running around the Unseelie Court with the Seelie King, it was well-hidden. Without a word, Lyari put her back against the door, holding it for us. I walked over the threshold and into a set of connected rooms.
Like Chandrelle’s, the space was unexpectedly lovely. Unlike Chandrelle’s, there was a distinct Moroccan feel to this one. The rugs were bold print, every pillow a bright pattern, and the floor itself was black and cream tile. Several poufs hung on the walls and pendant lamps cast a glow over everything.
“I present my father, Folduin,” Lyari said, drawing my attention back to her. Another faerie was already moving forward, giving me a gap-toothed smile that was shocking to see within the Unseelie Court. His left hand held a martini glass, and there was barely a ripple across the alcohol’s surface as he approached.
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting when it came to meeting Lyari’s father, but this certainly wasn’t it. The faerie’s belly was round and extended, his waist-length hair almost the same color as Laurie’s. Wher
e the Seelie King’s lashes were dark, though, Folduin’s matched his startling hair. He wore sandals on his pale feet, and there were bells on the straps, jangling with every step. He was also wearing a red kimono, which flowed behind him like a dramatic gown.
Lyari must have inherited her mother’s physical traits, because my Right Hand looked nothing like her father.
I was so distracted by Folduin’s appearance that, when he took my hand to pump it up and down, I twitched in surprise. His palm was dry and warm, but I grimaced as though it were the opposite. I steeled myself for the inevitable tsunami of terror.
The tsunami never came.
Despite this male’s amiable demeanor, his mind was a fortress. Touching him only elicited what used to be the normal effects for a Nightmare—a taste in my mouth and a smattering of small, simple fears. Folduin was scared of deep water and outer space. The flavors were an oddly pleasant combination of apple and cigar smoke.
“It is truly a pleasure to meet you, Queen Fortuna,” Folduin said. If he noticed my grimace, he pretended not to. “Truly a pleasure!”
Strangely enough, I believed him. I glanced at Lyari, uncertain what to say, and she finally revealed the reason she’d brought me here. “I thought my father might know where Creiddylad is.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name… but as I’ve just informed Lyari, I’m afraid I can’t help you, Your Majesty. I was not one of the members entrusted with that secret.” Folduin’s regret seemed genuine. I swallowed my disappointment, trying to harden myself to the reality that I had to interview the council members, one by one. Then Folduin added, “There is someone else you could ask, though.”
Hope stirred. “Who?”
But Folduin looked at Lyari instead of answering. When I glanced over at her, the Guardian’s expression was unhappy. No, resigned. I raised my eyebrows. “Am I missing something?”
Lyari faced me, her expression smoothing again. “He’s talking about my mother.”
“Your mother?” I echoed, my brows rising.
One corner of her mouth tipped upward, but it wasn’t a smile. “You thought she was dead? If only that were true—at least then we’d have a grave to mourn. There may not be much left of her, but she’s still very much alive.”
On that cheerful note, Lyari gripped the hilt of her sword and walked toward a doorway to our right. She didn’t say whether we were supposed to follow, but I did, driven by desperation and maybe a bit of curiosity. Laurie sifted and reappeared at my side. At that moment, it struck me how quiet he’d been through all this.
Folduin stayed where he was, and I saw him take a sip of his martini before we moved out of sight.
I faced forward and immediately noticed the metal door. It was embedded in the farthest wall of the farthest room—it looked like the sort of door you’d find on a vault or a safe room. When we reached it, Lyari didn’t waste time on dramatics or warnings. She wrapped her hands around the wheel and used her considerable strength to turn it. Rods around the edge of the door retracted, and Lyari pulled it open.
This time, I waited for her to enter first. The doorway wasn’t quite high enough for her, and Lyari bent her head as she went inside. I heard the heels of her boots on a hard floor, the low murmur of her voice. Whatever reservations I had were overpowered by the realization that, just a few feet away, there was someone who might be able to help me get Collith back.
A strange smell assaulted my nose as I started after Lyari. It was like a garbage bag that had been left to rot. Worried I’d offend someone, I schooled my features into a disinterested mask.
Laurie had no such qualms—once he was close enough to pick up that smell, he pulled back. His nose wrinkled. “You know what? I’ll wait out here. Stand guard and all that,” he said casually.
I rolled my eyes at him and stepped through the doorway.
The instant I was over the threshold, someone closed the door behind me. The sound echoed as if we were in a cathedral. Slowly, I took in the enormous space. It was a circle made of stones and mortar. The floor was stone, too. The walls were bare and there was only a bed, a bucket, and stack of books. Wondering about the echo, I looked up. The Paynore rooms were closer to the surface than I’d thought—high above, two or three stories, there was a circular window.
And across from us, squatting against the wall, was Lyari’s mother.
I’d studied the bloodline trees; I knew her name was Kindreth and that she was one of the original angels to fall from Heaven. I didn’t see Lyari’s resemblance to her, either. Her hair was dark and long, the ends feathery, as if it hadn’t been cut in years. What I could see of her face was the color of chalk. Her mouth was a wide, thin slash. She wore a nightgown that looked freshly-washed and ironed, with a scooped neckline and a lacy hem.
The Ring, I realized suddenly. She looks like that girl from The Ring.
I was so unnerved that I almost missed it when Lyari said, “There’s someone here to see you, Mama. Our new queen. Isn’t that exciting? Be respectful, please.”
I’d never heard Lyari use that voice before. If I didn’t glance at her just as she finished speaking, I wouldn’t have believed it. She sounded so timid, so young. With effort, I turned back to Kindreth and opened my mouth to greet her.
She launched herself at me.
It was so abrupt, so unexpected that I didn’t have a chance to defend myself. In the next moment, I hit the wall. The faerie’s foul breath assaulted every sense as she buried her splintered nails into the hair at the back of my skull. Her forehead—it was hot, I noted with faint revulsion—pressed against mine. I couldn’t move, though I could picture the exact Krav Maga technique that would free me.
“See how we sinned,” Kindreth hissed. Spittle landed on my cheek. “Oh, see what wicked things we did. How far we fell. Down, down, down…”
From a distance, I could hear Lyari shouting. I couldn’t see her, couldn’t answer, couldn’t do anything besides look around with horror. Death was everywhere. Swords clashed and agonized cries filled the air. I stood in the center of chaos, horrified as I watched my comrades and loved ones die. No, not my loved ones—Kindreth’s. This was her memory. Her biggest regret. The golden street beneath my feet was slick with blood. Bodies slumped against the pearl-crusted gates. A mistake, I thought. I’ve made such a terrible mistake…
Kindreth’s nails pulled out of my skin, and my vision cleared.
Laurie stood between me and the faerie now—he must’ve sifted into the room—while Lyari held her mother’s arms back. The two of them were across the space, where Kindreth had been when we first entered. “I need to know where you hid Creiddylad,” I rasped, holding the back of my head to staunch the bleeding. There was no time to be affected by what I’d just seen. Only Collith mattered.
“Creiddylad?” Kindreth echoed, her voice high now, like a child’s. She stopped yanking at Lyari’s hold, and a moment later, her skeletal frame slumped. Lyari’s fingers loosened cautiously. Kindreth didn’t attack again—she dropped to her knees and started rocking. With every movement her temple beat against the wall. It didn’t look hard enough to cause any real damage, so neither of us tried to stop her. “How will we know the spell worked?”
She said it so quietly that I almost missed it. I didn’t dare step closer, but I leaned toward her in my eagerness. “What spell, Kindreth?”
Impatience flitted across her haggard face. “The spell you had placed on the door, you little fool!”
Lyari tensed, ready to move at the first hint of violence, but Kindreth just kept rocking. It felt like her words were branded on my mind. The door. Even finding this small piece of the puzzle gave me hope. It made sense the council members who hid Creiddylad had also made it difficult to remove her, in the event she was found. I tried not to think about what we would’ve done, if we’d gone through all the trouble of leading Gwyn to her lover only to discover she was guarded by ancient magic.
“Will you remind me what kind of spel
l it was?” I asked, holding back a wince when I pressed down too hard on the holes in my head. “I’ve forgotten.”
“Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice,” Kindreth started to chant. Her temple hit the wall. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Are you saying a sacrifice will open the door? Or that you made one to complete the spell?”
Kindreth started to laugh. There was a jagged edge to the sound that affected all of us; I could see it in the way Lyari shifted and Laurie stepped in front of me. “How could you forget, Naevys?” the mad faerie asked between her gasps and giggles. “Has your mind gone to rot? It was your blood we used to complete the witch’s spell! You insisted no one but the Unseelie Queen would be able to set the human free. You felt responsible for all the death your precious huntress had caused.”
Okay, that was actually helpful, I thought dimly. If what Kindreth said had any reliability—which was doubtful, as much as I hated to admit it—then we now knew what it would take to free Creiddylad. The blood of the Unseelie Queen. The blood that ran through my own veins.
I was the key.
“Are you toying with me?” Kindreth asked suddenly. When I looked at her, she was looking back, but there was still a glassiness to her eyes that frightened me. “Are you pretending to be a simpleton to find out where the tomb is? It won’t work. It won’t work! I won’t let you find her!”
She tried to throw herself at me again, but this time Lyari was ready. The steel-eyed Guardian restrained her mother, holding onto her with an unrelenting grip. Kneeling there, her arms bent at unnatural angels, Kindreth looked like a featherless bird that had fallen out of the nest. The sounds she made, though, were anything but innocent or hopeful. Goosebumps raced over my skin at the same moment the door opened behind us.
I glanced back and saw a woman standing there. Kindreth’s caretaker, probably—between the fresh nightgown and her clean hair, someone was looking after her. Laurie took a cautious step forward and touched my arm. His fingers caused nothing more than a moment of pleasant warmth. “We should go, Fortuna,” he said.
