by May Dawson
When I closed the door, I leaned against it for a second, trying to catch my breath. Always a new fucking disaster with this crew.
“It’s a good thing everyone likes Azrael,” Tiron said. He sounded cheerful as ever, and just now, that made me want to punch him.
“Well, not everyone,” Alisa said haughtily.
I stared at Tiron steadily, and he dropped his gaze. He said, “I assume you’ll want that story.”
“Desperately,” I said drily. “But right now, we need to make it seem like none of this ever happened and get about our day. Alisa has to make an appearance in the court today.”
“Why does Alisa have to do that?” she asked drily.
I kept my back to her. I couldn’t face her damned saucy expression and her glib words, not now when I’d just seen her almost die. I couldn’t betray how I felt.
When I saw that wound—a killing wound—I’d felt as if my heart were being ripped out of my chest. I’d had to move, so that had kept the panic I felt at bay.
But I knew she’d haunt my dreams that night. I’d relive the moment with her blood all over my hands, but I wouldn’t be able to save her.
I already had enough of those dreams.
Duncan took one look at my face and drawled, “Don’t be lazy, Princess.”
“I’ll take care of this,” Tiron promised, gesturing to the blood-soaked bedding. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Yes, it is,” I said. “Not that this conversation is over.”
“It’s my fault,” she said quickly. “I asked Tiron to teach me to fly. He tried to warn me, but I wasn’t paying attention. Brought the gargoyles down on us both.”
She added, “Sorry, Tiron.”
“I don’t care about fault,” I said sharply. “The two of you shouldn’t be sneaking out of the castle. You have enemies, Alisa.”
“Everywhere I go,” she said lightly.
When I turned around, I really saw her outfit for the first time, the way the gauze fell away from her narrow shoulders and exposed the long, taut lines of her stomach and the gentle flare of her hips. Her bright eyes met mine in open challenge. God, she was gorgeous. My cock was suddenly hard.
“You need to get back to your room, now,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Fine.” She didn’t act as if she were annoyed by my brusque tone, but she leaned up onto her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Tiron’s cheek.
His cheeks colored faintly—I’d never seen the male blush before—but his arm still looped her narrow waist. The two of them shared a quick hug before she turned and sauntered toward the window, her hips swaying, and my jaw set.
I glanced at Tiron, but I had no time for the conversation I’d love to have with him right now. I pulled on a clean set of clothes and watched Alisa leap from the window, her wings spreading from her back.
Her gossamer wings were as beautiful as she was.
No matter how pissed I was at the moment, I was glad she could fly again.
Duncan turned to Tiron, fury sparking in his icy blue eyes, and I held up my hands. “Let’s all table this conversation for now. We’ve got work to do.”
Duncan scoffed at that, but left Tiron alone. Tiron threw me a grateful look, but wisely didn’t press his luck by thanking me. Alisa couldn’t be blamed for her foolishness; she didn’t remember just what Faer was capable of.
But Tiron knew better. The damned wall, the bodies, rose in my mind again, and like I so often did, I imagined my friends’ faces, even as I willed the thought away.
Sometimes it seemed like the more I tried to unroot the dark thoughts, the more their tendrils pushed deep into my mind.
“Later,” I said again, a promise to Duncan and a threat for Tiron. I nodded goodbye to them both and headed out through the barracks. The common room was emptying out now, and I grabbed a roll to stuff with cheese and bacon to eat on my way.
I needed my strength to deal with Alisa. I stopped, sighed, grabbed a second sandwich. Doubtless she felt she needed her strength to deal with me.
“Are you joining us in the training yard today?” Calina called cheerfully from the table where she sat with a few of the other knights. “We’ve missed you lately.”
“I wish.” I smiled back at her. “Duty calls.”
I could feel her gaze lingering on my back as I left the room. She’d tried to climb into my bed before, and although she was beautiful and we had fun training together, I’d politely declined.
Now that I’d shared my bed with Alisa, I doubted I could ever share it with another, no matter what fate had done to us both. I’d never be with her again.
But I couldn’t bear to be with another, either.
I left behind the pleasant bustle of the barracks for the long, winding quiet halls of the palace. The servants always managed to make themselves nearly invisible.
I banged on the door to Alisa’s room. She pulled the door open a second later; her lavender hair tumbled around her shoulders, sharply contrasting with her scarlet outfit now that she’d removed the cowl. Her face was pale as if she were still recovering from the wounds, but her eyes were pink-smudged against that fair skin. She hastily turned away from me.
I moved into her room and closed the door quietly behind me. “We should burn that outfit. Faer won’t like it if he knows you’re discovering your independent side.”
She shrugged as she walked away from me toward the pool. Right; she wanted me to know she didn’t care. She dropped the silky red scraps on the marble, then dove forward, her delicate muscles rippling with the movement. The water rippled around her body.
She was going to get herself killed. Faer couldn’t attack her outright, but if he ever gave up on marrying her off to Raile—to make sure she could never take the summer throne—he’d try to have her murdered.
I tossed the sandwich on the table. It seemed a peace offering was pointless now.
“I’m going to sleep for a week,” she said, yawning as she began to tread water. “Isn’t the official story that I’m spoiled and lazy?”
She must be exhausted from being up all night, from that wound and the pain of recovering from it. But of course she would hide that under her usual light-hearted insolence.
“No, you’re not. You’re expected to sit with your brother as he hears appeals from the summer court.” My voice came out calm and level. “If you don’t appear with him, it simply feeds the narrative that you’re incompetent for the throne.”
“I don’t want the throne.” She turned over in the water, and her gaze found the bruise she’d left on my face. That girl had a powerful punch. She winced, as if she regretted those bruises, no matter how angry she still was.
“Why didn’t you hit me back?” she asked, then answered her own question: “Right. You’ve already got your revenge. Here we are.”
“You can hate me all you like, but put on your crown. You can cry about it later.”
Her eyes widened. “I was not—”
“I know what you look like when you’ve been crying,” I said.
“Did you make a habit of making me cry before?” she asked, her tone barbed.
She wasn’t crying about anything to do with me. Something that happened out there with Tiron had stung her deeply, and I doubted it had anything to do with her brush with death. But she didn’t want to tell me. Fine.
I shrugged. “First love. Perhaps we made each other cry.”
She shook her head, as if she doubted that very much.
“You went about it stupidly, but you weren’t wrong to go see the state of your kingdom,” I said, my voice calm. “For all Duncan’s criticisms, no one has ever accused you of shirking your responsibilities.”
“Except my responsibility to marry.”
My lips quirked. “Well. I’m glad you evaded that one so far. We’ll see what the future holds.”
“Raile talks as if he tried to marry me before. Is that why I rejected him?” Her gaze found mine. There was a glimmer of real
innocence in her eyes when she asked, “Did I choose you?”
The question fractured something inside me. “Maybe you chose yourself.”
“Well, that would have been wise,” she muttered, climbing the marble steps. “But I’ve never been accused of being exceptionally wise.”
I hesitated. “Faer is never going to give permission. If he won’t let you go to the caves, then we’ll have to go ourselves.”
Gods, but I was a fool when it came to her.
Whatever. There would be other ways to launch our coup. We didn’t have to leave her at Faer and Raile’s mercy.
She faced me, her chin rising. “There would be no hiding that from Faer. You don’t want to help me, Azrael. It will cost you something, and Duncan’s made it very clear I’m not worth it.”
“You managed to say one true thing in the midst of all that garbage,” I said, because it would cost me something. “We can talk more later. For now, stop fussing and put on something presentable for court.”
She stalked ahead of me into her room, letting the towel fall to the ground. The curves of her back, her lithely muscled shoulders and her narrow waist and the fullness of her hips, drew my gaze, just as she’d intended. She stepped out of the pants and left them behind.
“That move worked better for you this time, didn’t it?” I called, ignoring how my cock twitched at the thought of her.
“I still hate you,” she called back.
“I let you punch me, let you ignore me. Then I saved your life. Didn’t that win me any points toward forgiveness?”
“Let me?” Her voice was sharp. She came out of the bedroom wearing a green dress, edged in gold. “I think you and I are hopeless when it comes to forgiveness, Azrael. There’s just too much.”
But she turned, exposing her bare back, the loose ribbons of the bodice. I began to lace up the corset, hearing the faint exhale of her breath every time I jerked it tight.
“And I don’t even know what I need to be forgiven for,” she added.
“Maybe we could start to discuss it,” I said. “Tonight.”
“Maybe,” she agreed.
“But first, you have to get through court.” I tied the last lace, then reached for her hair. Alisa had always liked for me to comb her hair, to play with it, and even now, she started at my touch for a second before she relaxed.
When I began to plaint her hair, Alisa asked, “When did you learn to braid hair? Not at that military academy.”
“Zora,” I said. “My mother was very sick when she was little. We had maids, of course ,but… Zora didn’t cope well with my mother’s illness. She clung to Duncan and me.”
I gathered the braid in my hand and wrapped the rest of her hair around my hand, beginning to form a chignon. It was one of Zora’s favorite ways to wear her hair and I’d begun automatically, but now I regretted it. I didn’t need to think about Zora sentimentally; I needed to focus on the next step I had to take to keep her safe. To save the autumn court without damning the beautiful, maddening woman in front of me.
“So you learned to do your little sister’s hair. That’s sweet.”
“Give Duncan the credit,” I said. “I had to learn from the maids, so I practiced on Duncan. There’s a reason he wears his hair long.”
She absorbed the mental image, then laughed. “I would pay money to see Duncan with flowers braided into his hair.”
“I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make that happen.”
“Where’s Zora now? Did she make it to the Sisters?”
The question made my chest tighten. “I’m taking care of Zora. Once I know she’s safe, we’ll leave. All right?”
“Why would you do that for me, Azrael?”
I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t bear to. I dropped my hands from her hair, and she turned to face me, biting her lower lip.
“I’m not as good at hating you as I should be,” she admitted.
“Same, Princess. Same.” I offered her my arm. “Let me tell you what to expect today.”
I was ever the dutiful servant, after all.
When she walked into court, she didn’t hesitate this time as everyone sank to their knees. She walked past them without a second glance before she took her place on the dais.
She greeted Faer with an icy smile—I wondered if she had thrown anything at him—then took her throne. Twin thrones, as much as he tried to fight their equal power behind the scenes.
I joined Tiron in the crowd of nobles that watched from near the thrones; common Fae stood corralled nearer the doors, waiting for the chance to air their pleas and grievances, and a handful of nobles in chains waited by the door since only the king—or acting king—could sentence them.
Tiron whispered to me, “Are you anxious how your student will get on?”
“I’ll be happy if she makes it through the next few hours without punching Faer,” I admitted.
“I’ll be happier if she does,” Tiron returned.
“Tuttle Longfeld is accused of enchanting a goblin den to steal his neighbors’ livestock,” the courtier read out loud. The courtier had a face like a mouse, covered in gray and downy fur, and he gripped the book in four-fingered hands.
The accused was dragged forward by a guard. He was dressed in fine clothing, his ears long and pointed as he bowed his morose head.
Faer listened to the first eyewitness account and half of the second, before Faer interrupted. “Sentenced to death.”
Alisa frowned at Faer skeptically. I held my breath, expecting her to protest, but she kept quiet for now.
I’d suggested that this first time, she keep quiet and let Faer take the lead. I hadn’t made the suggestion with an abundance of optimism.
Chapter Fifty
Duncan
I made my way into the back of the court. Tiron twisted to look at me, and I rested my hand on his shoulder in greeting. His lips widened in the beginning of a smile. He was so quick to forgive, and so he always expected I’d be the same way.
Sometimes Tiron’s easy friendship left me thinking I should be less petty myself.
Those good intentions never lasted long beyond the next foolish thing someone said, though.
I found the nobles in the line of prisoners. There had never been so many noble Fae brought to the high court before Herrick’s time. Nobility always had occasional disputes over marriage contracts or land, the rarer murder or assault. But now, there were always nobles waiting in the queue.
I didn’t recognize any of them this time, and the tension in my chest eased. It was hard enough to play Faer’s obedient servant.
A handful of Fae came up and requested an extension on their village’s taxes, citing the many cases of illness they’d experienced recently disrupting their farming.
I saw the second that Alisa’s interest caught. She leaned forward, her eyes troubled.
Faer started to say something, and she stopped him with a hand on his arm. The look he gave her was startled, then irritated, but he leaned in to hear her whispering. The two of them eventually came to terms, and Faer made a pronouncement. I imagined he was probably far more charitable than without Alisa’s perspective.
Her kindness made my heart beat faster with sudden fury.
I needed her to have her memories restored, to go back to being the trickster Alisa with the cold heart I’d known. I’d thought that heart warmed for me, but that was before I learned Alisa would always prefer power over love.
Seeing Alisa as an enemy might destroy us both. But trusting her was sure to destroy me all over again.
“Enough appeals for today. Bring on the nobles for trial.” Faer searched the crowd at the end of the room before he asked impatiently, “Where’s the most recent?”
“All the evidence hasn’t been gathered yet, sire,” the courtier began, his long whiskers shaking with his speech.
“I’ll make those decisions, thank you,” Faer said coldly, and the courtier’s whiskers wobbled even more decisively.
The courtier began to read the list of charges—treason topped the list—as the doors opened for the guards and their prisoner.
The accused Fae swaggered in, looking like a king even wrapped in chains, his chin held high. Fiery red hair topped a freckled face, his expression boyish despite the dangerous muscled power of his body.
Ander.
Azrael’s jaw set. As soon as he’d tucked his hands behind his back, his chin rising high, his body turned rigid and motionless. He settled into that posture whenever he was determined not to show any weakness. I knew him well enough to know what went on behind that cold expression, though.
I hadn’t been good friends with Ander, but he went to the academy with us all, and since he was a lower noble, we’d seen him at court dances and celebrations. He and Azrael had been close.
One of the guards pushed Ander to his knees. Faer asked him several harsh questions, but it was clear he barely cared about the answers. He accused Ander of treason.
There was a glint in Faer’s eyes whenever his gaze flickered to Azrael, and I knew he was watching for Azrael’s reaction.
“Guilty,” Faer interrupted Ander’s attempts to explain himself. He raised his hand to wave him away. “Traitors burn ali—”
Alisa touched his arm, whispering to him before he could finish his sentence. Faer whirled to face her, his eyes widening in fury before he caught himself. They had an audience.
She leaned forward and murmured to him, but Faer would never go back on what he’d said when it would make him look weak before the high court. Alisa was too late.
I glanced at Azrael out of the corner of my eye. He’d hate it if he knew I was worried about him.
First Alisa, dressed in blood this morning. Now Ander, sentenced to the flames.
He’d be up screaming half the night. I wouldn’t be able to hear him, but that never stopped me from lying in bed awake as if I could feel the way he writhed in distress. He never wanted anyone to know his weakness. But he didn’t suffer any less, just because we pretended not to know.
Sometimes I thought he must suffer even more, thrashing around in the closed-up darkness of that bed.
