Prince of Dreams

by Pippa Dacosta

  It was as good an answer as I would get. And it would have to be enough.

  The rattle of armor sounded through twilight’s stillness. Sirius stepped protectively in front of me, barring me behind him with his tek arm. A line of horses, great beasts with stomping hooves, emerged over the hilltop, and at their head, atop a stallion dressed in black and red with an ink-black coat that looked crafted from Night itself, the guardian Niamh reined in her beast. Her red eyes locked on Sirius first.

  She kicked her beast with a cry and galloped forward.

  “Hold,” Sirius muttered to me.

  Niamh was on us in seconds. She reared her horse mere feet from Sirius. The beast pranced and snickered at its bit, barely contained. Gray veils of smoke rose from its fetlocks and mane. And its eyes were gray too, as though the beast were blind. But it could see well enough to know where Sirius and I stood. Niamh’s red eyes scored into me, and the nothing girl inside me shrank back while I held her glare. Even her horse looked like a shadow, and I again wondered about the rumors that she had fought off the Hunt and taken one of its wild stallions.

  “Sirius,” Niamh declared, loud enough for her riders to hear, “by King Oberon’s decree, I am to take you into custody.”

  “For what crime?” Sirius asked.

  “Stealing the Wraithmaker.”

  “I did not steal her. She ran. I’ve retrieved her. I’m bringing her to the king.”

  All technically true. There had been running, and he was bringing me back, but not for the reasons Niamh would assume.

  The dark guardian’s red eyes thinned to slits. “That is not for you and me to discuss. Submit and come quietly.”

  “The Wraithmaker is my prisoner.”

  Niamh’s warhorse whinnied and circled on the spot, stamping its hooves against the road, striking sparks against the stone. With one word, that horse would trample us both.

  Niamh leaned forward in her saddle, the leather creaking. “Is that all she is to you, Guardian?” She straightened again and called out, “Bind them both!” She whirled again and smiled faintly at me as her troops jumped down from their steeds and bore down on Sirius and me. Her smile held no humor, just malice. “You would not want to miss the execution, Wraithmaker.”

  An armored rider approached Sirius but hesitated to latch on the binding vines he carried.

  “Do it!” Niamh snapped.

  The rider winced, and Sirius offered his wrists to spare them both any harm. We were outnumbered, and even if I could summon the light, I wasn’t sure how to direct it without frying Sirius too.

  A kick from behind buckled one knee, dropping me into the dirt. Hands yanked my arms back, and the vines were looped around my wrists, where they self-tightened. Sirius watched the fae haul me to my feet and tie me to a horse. Watched, like he always had. I could trust him to be a Royal Guardian and nothing else. But was he my guardian, Oberon’s, or Faerie’s?

  The troops turned, and we were marched back toward the palace as night crept into the valleys and forests behind us.

  Chapter 13

  Kesh

  * * *

  Oberon stood at the same throne room window looking over the palace grounds, now cloaked in darkness. Night was here, and outside, the burbling sound of gathering fae overrode the soothing, serene chime of pixie-song.

  The king hadn’t spoken since my arrival. I still knelt, waiting to be acknowledged. They had separated Sirius and me as soon as we’d stepped through the palace’s enormous crystal gateway. A silent saru had stripped me of my filthy clothes and shoved me into more familiar scout leathers. Sirius’s absence in the throne room was not a good sign. If Oberon believed Sirius had taken me, taken his polestar… then Arran might have company at his execution—an execution I was no closer to stopping.

  I had to find Eledan’s heart.

  “My king—”

  “Silence.”

  I swallowed.

  Moments later, Oberon half-turned and regarded me with rare iciness. “Stand.”

  The only sound as I rose was the gently sighing of my leathers.

  He strode forward, boots clipping the carpet in even beats. He wore the cloak and robes of Faerie’s King, but when he passed the throne, he plucked the crown off his head and set it down on its arm. Though I’d always known him as crownless, tonight, he somehow seemed more terrifying without it. As a king, he had a role to play, rules to live by, but as Oberon, he had no role and no rules, other than his own.

  He spread his hand on my chest. My heart hammered beneath the buckled leather waistcoat. Don’t flinch. Don’t flinch. Don’t flinch. Working his touch down, over where he had stabbed a nail into my chest and where the light had blasted the marks away, he traced where the marks had been. His face, cut with deep lines, told me he knew some were missing.

  “The guardian knows,” he said, not a question but a statement.

  I didn’t ask what. Sirius knew everything.

  Oberon hadn’t used Sirius’s name, and a small pang of fear further tightened my chest. He would kill Sirius too. I should have wanted that—the guardian was a stubborn, ignorant example of everything I hated about the fae—but the thought of his execution knotted up my feelings and opened the way for some uncomfortable truths.

  “At first, I ordered him to accompany me during our sessions.” He pulled his hand back. His fingers closed into a fist. “I had planned to dismiss him once we’d settled into our routine, but when I broached the subject, he admitted he wanted to be present, that he enjoyed seeing me mark you.”

  Sirius had asked to watch? But he had told me he’d had no choice…

  Oberon scrutinized my face for a reaction. I gave none.

  “Perhaps that was true in the beginning,” he continued, “but as the years progressed and I gave you more marks, his intentions changed. He believes I did not notice how his perception of you altered.” He sighed gently. “It was no coincidence that I sent Sirius to retrieve you. No other would have seen that you were returned unharmed. I needed someone who would track you but also protect you.”

  I did not understand why the king was frowning or where this story was going. Why were we even discussing this when his people were expecting him outside?

  I could hear them gathering below the palace windows, awaiting Arran’s death. Time was rushing away from me.

  “Oberon, please listen. I can fix Faerie.” He didn’t stop me, so I plowed on, unable to read his perfectly masked expression. “Killing Arran won’t change or solve anything. Let him live, and you and I can make Faerie whole again. It’s what the fae, your people, want. Arran means nothing to them or to you. Killing him will solve nothing. Save Faerie and you’ll have nothing to fear outside that window—”

  Before I knew he’d hit me, I was already sprawled on the floor, the right side of my face on fire.

  Still reeling, I felt his iron-like fingers clamp around my neck. He hauled me back to my feet. “You have no idea what I fear! You cannot begin to understand the forces I must control. I am saving my people!” He let me go and whirled to face the window. “Can those fools not see that?”

  Blood pooled in my mouth. I swallowed and dabbed at my split lip.

  “I am protecting you.” The king flung a hand my way. “I am protecting them. How do you not understand this?”

  “Because you do nothing but sit on that throne as your world crumbles around you. That’s how.”

  “I cannot leave.” He stopped again, careful not to say more. “I wear the crown in service to Faerie. I do all of this for Faerie. It has always been for Her. The sacrifices…”

  “What sacrifices?” I asked around a throbbing lip, thoughts dangerously calm. “You do nothing but gaze out of that window.”

  “You cannot understand this burden.”

  I’d heard that before, how a saru couldn’t possibly understand the burdens the fae carried. “I am your loyal servant. I have been all my life. Perhaps if you stopped underestimating me, you’d see I understand mo
re than you realize.”

  He considered my words. “I have known you during every moment you’ve breathed Faerie’s air. I held you in my arms as a bawling babe. I named you Mylana. I have watched you survive in the arenas, and thrive, until the time came to keep you close. I have shared more with you than I have with any other soul on Faerie. But I cannot share this truth with you or anyone else. To speak it would be to invite it in.”

  The cheers and jeers rising outside drew Oberon back toward the window. His shoulders sagged, and instead of standing proudly at the window the way he always had before, he braced a hand against its frame and bowed his head. Crownless, he had never seemed wearier.

  The entire palace was open to Faerie’s children. Fae from all around were gathering inside the courtyard walls to witness Arran’s execution. Fae like the thing at the docks that had tried to lure me in. Fae like the water witch who likely had her own agenda for helping me. The king was weak, and he had opened his doors to bolster the morale of his people. But his people didn’t trust him. If I were a fae like Sjora, someone who didn’t believe in Oberon, there wouldn’t be many better opportunities to get close to the king than this one. Close enough to kill…

  “Where are your guardians?” I asked.

  “Nearby.”

  “And Sirius?”

  “He is of no concern to you. You and I have much to prepare for, but first, to distract and appease the people, the gladiator must die.”

  I couldn’t allow that. But night was here, and I had no time to save Arran and outthink the king. No time to free Eledan and have him stop his brother from making more mistakes.

  “Oberon, you have hidden too long behind these walls. Can you not see how you have opened your doors to your enemies? Your people know I killed the queen, and they know you were behind her death. This new war with the humans you have brought upon them is not what they want. If you go out there… I’m afraid for your safety. Can you not feel it? Something hungry and terrible is waiting out there.”

  “That hungry thing is not out there…” He sighed. “None of it matters,” he whispered, clutching the window frame like I had once clutched prison bars. He had always wanted to rule, so why did he look at this room as though it were his prison?

  Everywhere, from every wall and every column, mirrors chased away the dark and reflected the king and me. The king was barely clinging to his rule. He wouldn’t leave the palace—couldn’t leave… a fact his people knew well. The cu sith had mocked him for his fear.

  “I am only trying to do what is right,” he added.

  “Faerie doesn’t think so.”

  “Faerie?” He turned to me and sneered. “What do you know of Faerie? All your life I’ve protected you from Her. All saru are shielded from her. You cannot comprehend what it means to be fae.”

  Protected from Faerie?! “You mean, how torturous it must be to never age, to have the power of life running through your veins, to live in a world that thinks for itself, to have a king who undoes a thousand-year peace because he’s bored of his human experiments that are growing stronger than him?”

  Rage plucked on his lip and cheek. “You overstep, Wraithmaker.”

  “Someone needs to.”

  Instead of him voicing the rage in his eyes, a terrible smile appeared on his lips. “And you think you can stop me?” This time, when he approached, he unclipped his cloak and tossed it onto the throne beside the crown, stripping off another layer of royalty. He had a hold of my chin in the next second. Warm, strong fingers dug into my cheek, and Faerie’s king peered into my eyes. Ice-blue eyes, like his brother’s and just like with Eledan’s gaze, I fell into the king’s now, hearing Eledan’s laughter in my head. Two princes. One full of ambition, and the other full of pride.

  He turned my head hard to one side, studying my face, then his grip loosened and those smooth fingers trailed lightly down my neck and over my collarbone where a heavy iron collar had once marked me as saru and kept me controlled, kept me hidden, just like the fading warfae marks hid the polestar.

  “We are all guardians of the light,” the king whispered. “Guardians of Faerie.”

  “Faerie is dying,” I whispered back. “You chased away all the dark, cutting out half her heart.”

  “Not all the dark.” The words were barely audible, but I didn’t need to hear them to see the fear in his eyes. What was he so afraid of? The dark weapon Ailish had mentioned? His secret, his curse? If I knew what it was, I could use that fear.

  “Let me help you. Let me serve you, my king.” I bowed my head, and pushing against my own pride, I lowered myself to my knees and kept my eyes downcast. “I have only ever done what you’ve asked of me. I am wholly yours, crafted by your hand from the day I was grown and harvested to be your Wraithmaker. I saved you all those years ago when the gladiator attempted to kill you. I killed Faerie’s queen for you. I removed you brother from your path, just as you asked. And I returned as your faithful servant. Always. I am yours, Oberon. I will always be yours. Allow me to serve you.” The lies cut into all the new parts of me, my pride and strength, my hope and honor. All the things I’d learned to cherish as Kesh Lasota, but by sacrificing them, the king would trust me like he had before.

  The backs of his fingers brushed my cheek where he had struck me. He touched my chin, lifting my head so I could see the open hope on his face.

  What else could I do or say to have him open up? What did he need from me, this king alone on his throne?

  Oberon truly believed his crusade to vanquish the dark was saving Faerie, yet Faerie wilted outside the palace windows. He wasn’t a fool, and he wasn’t blind. There was something else I was missing.

  Boldly, I took his hand in mine, closed my fingers around his, and looked up into the eyes of the fae who had killed billions of innocent people. Once, I would have wept to be this close to him. My saru body trembled, but not with love. I was the king’s Wraithmaker. He had made me to serve and protect him… and I had done all those things. But one fear remained.

  You chased away all the dark.

  Not all the dark.

  “Something dark remains?” I asked. “Order me to end it and I will stop at nothing to do so.”

  His gaze darted away, and to hide his fear, he turned away from me. Trapped in indecision, he chose the throne instead of the window. Lowering himself among its woven roots, he regarded the empty throne room around with its tall mirrored pillars, and me, with cool clarity.

  He believed he was fighting for Faerie, that whatever he was doing was a sacrifice nobody could understand. This room, the mirrors, the discarded crown, and the lonely king. It all told a story if someone dared look close enough. He was terrified.

  I rose to my feet. “Tell me what I must do to banish this last darkness.”

  To him, my life might have been fleeting, little more than a wisp, but he had spent time and effort in training me, keeping me close, pouring poison beneath my skin. Sirius had said the king was different with me, that the king needed me, and that had never been clearer than in this moment. His fear of this dark thing was the weapon I would use against him.

  “Come.” He rose and strode from the dais toward the back of the room. He pushed a wall panel, and a hidden door opened. I followed him inside. The king walked silently ahead. Not even his boots made noise where they struck the polished stone floor. There were no mirrors here, just faelights twinkling in strings above.

  We wove through the narrow tunnel, following its sharp turns seemingly at random. I counted the turns and steps. Oberon opened another door, and we entered a windowless chamber with long, colorful floor-to-ceiling silk curtains.

  Ahead, I recognized my tek-whip coiled on a plinth, and beside it, a mass of choking roses, the same kind wrapped around Arran’s cell bars, climbed a second plinth.

  I could take up the whip now and wrap it around Oberon’s neck…

  The roses hissed as they unraveled for Oberon’s approach. Thorns snickered. Dark purplish flower heads t
urned toward the king, petals opening like tiny hands. And there, among their knotted thorns, a fleshy organ thwump-thwumped inside its tek cage, still beating out Eledan’s immortal life.

  I clenched my hands at my sides to keep from snatching the thing. That heart was more important than my revenge, but I still wanted to rip it from its rose cage and crush it to dust under my heel.

  The rose heads swung toward me under Oberon’s keen and curious gaze, my anger and fear a perfume to them.

  “How much of the polestar do you understand?” Oberon asked.

  “It’s a weapon. Part of it is inside me.”

  “How did you come to know this?”

  I admired the heart and let its rhythmic beat calm my thoughts so the lie would come easily. “I found a cache of dark fae on a Halow planet. They reacted strangely to me. I was able to… use some power from inside me to control them.” That didn’t cover how I’d learned it was inside me, but I couldn’t reveal Talen’s part in this. “Marshal Kellee told me of the polestar.”

  “What planet was this?”

  “Hapters.”

  Oberon studied my face for lies. “Sirius did not mention that discovery.”

  “It was before his arrival,” I hastily added. “I kept much from him, unsure of his… allegiance.”

  “What became of those dark fae?”

  “I don’t know. Sirius returned me to you while the marshal fought them.” I wanted to ask about the polestar fragment in me, what it meant, whether it would kill me if I used it, how to use it properly, if I was just a vessel for this artifact, if the marks would all soon vanish. I wanted to ask about its partner weapon made of darkness, but here, now, I only needed one thing.

  Eledan’s heart was almost close enough for me to touch, but the roses would latch on, and given how strongly I felt about the heart’s owner, those roses would drink my emotions dry.

  “All this time, my brother was hiding in Halow, like a fragment of the polestar was hidden in you.” Something about that amused him. “I thought him long dead… until whispers reached me of his hunt for the polestar.” His smile grew. “Only my brother could survive that long so far from Faerie. Of course, when you returned his heart, the reason for his impossible survival became clear.” Oberon reached into the bed of roses. The thorns lashed at his hand and wrist but had little effect on him. He took the heart in his hand, wincing as the tek burned.