by K. J. Sutton
I stared at Kindreth, wracking my mind for the right combination of words or the right question… but some broken things couldn’t be fixed. I’d already spent so much of my life trying.
But what about Lyari? I glanced at my Right Hand, reluctant to leave without her. “I’ll be right behind you,” she said shortly.
“Better be,” I said back. As I turned, I caught Laurie’s gaze lingering on my shoulder. I followed it and saw bloodstains on my shirt. His concern made me bristle; I didn’t like how it made me feel. He was still a murderer, I reminded myself. My voice was curt as I told him, “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”
Whatever I’d seen his eyes disappeared. Laurie nodded, and together, we left that place of pain.
The mad faerie’s laughter followed us through the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Folduin was still nursing his martini when we walked back into the room. Or, when I walked back into the room, I noted with faint annoyance.
Laurie had disappeared again.
As promised, Lyari caught up a few seconds later, saving me from making small talk with her father. Folduin reiterated what a pleasure it had been to make my acquaintance, and after murmuring the correct words back, Lyari and I left the Paynore chambers.
The moment we were in the passageway, I took one look at her face and started walking. I walked as if we had somewhere to be, or something was on the line. But something was on the line—a piece of Lyari’s soul. I recognized the darkness in her eyes because I had seen it in my own.
We didn’t exchange a single word, not even when we stepped into the open. After being in Kindreth’s prison, the air itself poisoned with grief and insanity, it felt like darkness should’ve claimed the rest of the world. But it was daytime—bright, normal daytime. Lyari took a breath, as though she’d been suffocating beneath the ground, and only now amongst the pines could she breathe again.
I gave her a few seconds, then I moved forward again. I waited until we were past the small clearing and within the cover of dead trees. “Let it out,” I commanded.
Lyari didn’t argue. She swung away, her shoulders hunched, and she took a few steps in a random direction. The faerie faltered when she realized she had nowhere to go. I understood that urge better than anyone. To outrun the relentless, limitless thoughts of whatever it was you were trying to forget. I could only see the back of Lyari’s head as she was swarmed by them. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides.
Then, finally, a sound slipped out of her—the smallest of sobs. I saw her arm move, and I knew she was probably pressing it against her mouth to keep the rest at bay. Watching the faerie’s slender body shake, I remembered her words from the revel. Now I understood them. Do you think you’re the only creature to know real pain? Why should you get the luxury of falling apart, while the rest of us pick up the pieces and press on?
Lyari stayed like that for a while.
I pretended to be absorbed by the sky as I waited. There wasn’t much to see; it was probably going to snow soon. The sound of footsteps drew my gaze back down.
“And that, Your Majesty, is my lovely mother,” Lyari said. There was a note of finality in her voice, as if we’d reached the end of a story. “She is what they speak of when bloodline Paynore comes up in conversation. She is what they see when they look at me. You asked, once, why I hide my power? I don’t. They just don’t care that I have it. Because of where I come from.”
Her expression created an ache in my chest. From experience, I knew there was nothing I could say that would change her mind… but that never stopped me from trying. “Lyari, you’re nothing like her, and you never will be. Whoever believes that is a fucking moron,” I said firmly.
“The same blood runs through my veins,” Lyari countered. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “The same weakness.”
Before I could keep arguing, she gripped the hilt of her sword and charged into the woods. It certainly was an effective way to end a conversation, I thought. Then I sighed and went after her. “We should go back down, Lyari,” I called. “I need to start interrogating the council members.”
Kindreth was a dead end, but even if she had been one of the members entrusted with Creiddylad’s location, there was at least one other person who possessed that information. The trick would be to conduct the interviews quietly, without them alerting each other about what I was doing. I couldn’t have any of them going into hiding…
Lyari didn’t slow or look back. “If you do that, their bloodlines will turn on you,” she said flatly.
“Do you have another idea? Gwyn has Collith. Every second he’s with her, she could be—”
“My father has granted you temporary use of Kindreth’s journals. She was meticulous about documenting her history—our history—until she couldn’t anymore. They were delivered while we were speaking with her. We should exhaust every other resource before you start torturing our people.”
“Fine,” I said, swallowing. “I’ll spend the day going through them. If I don’t find anything by tomorrow morning, I’m still going to the council members.”
Lyari didn’t reply, but she did quicken her pace. I was too tightly wound to attempt a normal conversation, so I trudged along behind her.
It wasn’t often we made this journey in the daytime. We traversed over ice and snow, and every few yards, there was movement in the naked forest. A fat squirrel, hopping across the ground in search of food. A lone bird, calling from the treetops as if there was a flock nearby.
“Your Majesty,” Lyari said suddenly.
Her tone made my head snap up, and when I saw who stood in our path, I tried not to sigh again. Son of a bitch. “I thought you left.”
Laurie stood legs apart, hands clasped behind his back. He looked like he’d been waiting for us, but knowing him, this was probably for dramatic effect. His new outfit certainly did that on its own—there was a bear skin draped over his shoulders, and what I could see underneath was made of black leather. Had he seriously left us to change?
“I’d like to speak with the queen alone, Guardian,” Laurie told Lyari, pretending not to notice my stare. “I can accompany her from here.”
“No, he can’t,” I said coolly. “Don’t listen to him. Let’s go.”
Laurie’s eyebrows drew together, creating an expression of contrition. Too bad it didn’t match his words. “You should know that I’m not above blackmail,” he informed me. “If I have to make your brother think he’s transformed into a goat to get your attention, I will.”
“You wouldn’t.” Fury flitted like embers through my stomach. I was about to respond with an insult, but I realized that was exactly what Laurie wanted. What he was hoping for. I decided to try Lyari’s method for ending a conversation.
When I started walking toward him, though, Laurie dropped the act. The corners of his mouth tilted up and his eyes gleamed like metal. “Try me, Firecracker.”
“I hate you,” I hissed as I shouldered past him. However slender he appeared, Laurie was surprisingly steadfast, and he hardly moved. Damn it, he smells good. I scowled and quickened my pace, noting that Lyari was no longer behind us. After the morning she’d had, I could hardly blame her.
“It’s true what they say, about the line between love and hate,” the Seelie King mused, following me. “It’s thinner than my aunt Gaylia. So, essentially, you’re saying you love me.”
For once, he’d frustrated me to the point of speechlessness. I kept walking, eager to get home so I could continue the search for Creiddylad. Laurie was the least of my problems. The thought inevitably turned my mind to the encounter with Kindreth—if her journals were anything like the writer, they wouldn’t help us. With every hour that passed, Collith could be losing body parts or sanity.
“I should’ve just stayed in my quiet little life,” I muttered, talking more to myself than Laurie. “None of this would be happening if I’d just found another way to save Damon.”
He responded anyway, of course.
His breath sent clouds through the air as he said, “The meek don’t inherit the earth, baby. That’s just what the bold told ’em, so they’d get out of the way.”
I could see the barn now, and I walked faster again. The weathervane rose up against the horizon. “What makes you think I care about inheriting anything?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Right. Sorry. I broke character for a second—I forgot that we’re both heartless monsters who don’t give a fuck about the world.”
Would Kindreth’s journals be on the porch? Urgency pounded through my veins like blood. I stopped caring what Laurie thought and broke into a run. I left marks in the snow all the way to the porch, and clumps of it fell off my boots as I went up the steps.
As promised, there was an enormous chest waiting for me. Leather straps secured the lid down, and the wood was warped and faded by time. I could tell from one look that it was too heavy to move on my own. I glanced back at the Seelie King, who’d sifted to my side. His eyes alighted on the chest with bright curiosity.
“It’s full of Kindreth’s journals,” I told him, knowing he was worried about Collith, even if he refused to show it. “Lyari thought I might find something in them.”
“Do you need assistance bringing them inside?”
“No,” I said quickly. I knew it wasn’t logical—honestly, I could use his help reading the journals, too—but Laurie had gotten under my skin. He made me feel things that were dangerous and futile. Without another word, I went inside and closed the door. I formed a plan as I turned the locks and kicked off my boots. Finn was probably here; the two of us would have no problem moving the chest.
I turned around and yelped at the sight of Laurie standing in the hallway. “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, darting a glance toward the kitchen. I saw Damon poke his head past the doorway, a question in his eyes.
“She’s fine, Nightmare,” Laurie said to him. Completely ignoring me, he went into the living room and reappeared moments later carrying a cardboard box. He set it gently on the floor and lifted something out. “I realize the timing isn’t ideal, but I set the wheel in motion before Gwyn took Collith.”
Whatever he held was… moving. Shock vibrated through me when I saw that it was a kitten, tiny and gray and clearly terrified. Laurie released it, and the little thing walked across the floor as if it wasn’t used to its own legs yet, mewling the entire time.
I instantly got down on my knees. The kitten veered for the safety of the sofa table, and I caught it, reveling in its soft fur and the feel of its heartbeat against my palms. I held the kitten against me, crooning to it. “Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay. No one is going to hurt you. Yes, you’re so cute, aren’t you?”
“She doesn’t have a name yet,” Laurie said, watching us with a satisfied expression.
Damn it. I’d fallen right into his trap. Feeling uncomfortably hot now, I leaned away from the kitten to peel off my coat. “Look, I know you’re trying to do something nice, but I can’t keep her. This is Cyrus’s house and—”
“I already spoke to the human that smells like grease,” Laurie interjected. “He’s the one who set up a litter box. It’s in a place he called ‘the mud room’. Humans are truly revolting sometimes.”
This made me pause. Cyrus was okay with it? And he’d set up a litter box already?
“I’ve never had a pet before,” I murmured, touching the tip of the kitten’s ear. She peered up at me with big blue eyes and cried again. I knew just how she felt, being forced into a new world where nothing was familiar and everything was frightening. Feeling as though nothing would ever be all right again. But it would. For this kitten, at least—I’d make sure of it.
“Where did you get her?” I asked, setting the tiny animal back on her feet. Laurie cleared his throat and mumbled something. I frowned and shook my head. “What?”
“It’s from a shelter I own in Santa Monica, okay?” he said sharply.
I was silent for a moment, wondering if I’d heard him right. “You… you own an animal shelter?”
“Yes, but don’t tell anyone, damn it. I have a reputation to maintain.”
I looked from Laurie to the kitten. I’d thought it was just a tactic to get me talking to him again, but now I wasn’t certain. He looked so discomfited, so defensive at my discovering something new about him. “What is this, Laurie?” I asked.
“Emma told me about the fox you saved. You’re happier when that fucking werewolf is around. So I thought… cat.” His color was high, his eyes snapping silver fire.
That was when I understood. The kitten was an apology, or as close to one that I was going to get—it didn’t seem like something he did very often. I studied the lines of tension around Laurie’s mouth, wondering if it was all an act. But what would be the purpose? What did he stand to gain from my forgiveness?
“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said eventually. It felt like the safest response.
“I wanted to.” I felt Laurie watching me again. Trying to hide my confusion, I looked up at him. His shoulder-length silver hair had fallen into his face, and my fingers twitched with the urge to push it back. Laurie’s eyes said he knew exactly what I was thinking; he always knew. “So what are you going to name her?”
The question made my stomach clench. Regardless of how conflicted I felt about him, I couldn’t have a casual conversation with Laurie and pretend that Ian O’Connell wasn’t dead. I glanced toward the kitchen. I could hear Damon and Matthew clearly, which meant they could probably hear me. Us. Pursing my lips, I brought the kitten to the laundry room, then came back out and made a gesture at Laurie. Follow me. He meandered to the front door while I put my coat and boots back on.
There was a spot, on the other side of the garage, that wasn’t within view of the driveway or the house. I led Laurie there and faced him, crossing my arms. “You can’t just give me a cat and I’ll suddenly be okay with the fact you murdered a human being, Laurie,” I said.
“I know.”
The response made me blink. I’d expected more quips, more games, but Laurie wasn’t smiling and there was no twinkle in his eye. Silence floated between us. I didn’t know what to say now that he’d changed our dynamic and actually agreed with me on something. “Great,” I said lamely. “Glad we got that established. I’ll see you around, I guess.”
Laurie didn’t move. A line deepened between his brows, as though something had occurred to him. Something he didn’t like. Then his eyes cleared and he said, “One of my favorite witches stopped by your home earlier. A spell has been put into place. The spell you asked for when Gwyn first arrived?”
I must’ve been giving him a confused look. Laurie pulled something out of his pocket. He wasn’t wearing gloves, but his long fingers weren’t red or bothered by the cold. “The ingredients for a protection spell of this magnitude takes time to assemble, thus the delay. But Betty has done most of the groundwork. These are the words needed to activate the spell—just read these words out loud and think of the one you want to keep out. Once you do, there’s no telling how long it will last. She mentioned that the spell faded after a few hours, on one occasion, and lingered for three weeks on another. Magic isn’t an exact science, as you know.”
“Your favorite witch’s name is Betty?” I asked, biting my lip. Laurie glowered at me. I took the piece of paper, being careful not to touch his fingers, and glanced at the Enochian words scrawled across it. “I… I appreciate that you did this.”
I expected him to mention debts or favors, as he had the last time he helped me. But once again, Laurie displayed uncharacteristic restraint. “I feel as though I should reiterate that a spell won’t keep Gwyn out,” was all he said.
I raised one eyebrow at him and held up the paper. “Then why did you get it?”
“Because you asked me to.” I waited for him to say more. Laurie just stood in the snow, his silver gaze lingering on mine, no trace of teasing within those wintry depths.
“I’m going to tell yo
u something,” I said abruptly. I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by this—me or Laurie. I couldn’t seem to stop, though. “Something I haven’t told anyone, not in so many words, and I need to. God, I really need to. I don’t know why it’s right now or why it’s you. It just is.”
When it was clear I’d reached the end of my rambling, Laurie cocked his head a bit. The gesture reminded me of Collith, which led to thoughts of their shared history and how untrustworthy this faerie truly was. But I’d said too much to stop talking now.
Knowing what came next, I dropped my gaze. I didn’t want to see the exact moment Laurie’s opinion of me changed forever.
“I let a demon fuck me to bring Collith back from the dead,” I said.
Once I’d spoken the truth out loud, I wasn’t sure what I expected to feel. A sense of relief, maybe. All I experienced was another surge of fear. I waited for Laurie’s reaction, and it felt like my insides were made of feathers, fluttering everywhere. Amusement, disgust, boredom—I could see him exhibiting any of the three. Or all of them at the same time. Laurie was nothing if not versatile.
Instead, the King of the Seelie Court stepped forward and kissed my forehead. “You are beautiful, Fortuna Sworn,” his voice said in my ear.
I moved back, not to get away from him, but in response to the emotions he’d just set loose in my body. Now that I had acknowledged one secret, all the rest were clamoring to be freed.
“Kindreth said a sacrifice made by an Unseelie Queen would break the spell on the tomb,” I told Laurie, meeting his gaze again. I took a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I would survive giving anything else up. But I owe it to Collith. After what I did…”
To my embarrassment, I felt my chin wobble. Laurie didn’t ask for permission—he just cupped the back of my neck and pulled me to him. For a minute, I was stiff against him, thinking that I should push him away. But I didn’t. I had sixty seconds, sixty opportunities to make the right choice, and I let every one of them pass me by.
