Faerie Lords Boxset

by Isabella August

  Jenna sucked in her breath. “I’m not leaving you, Lainey,” she said. Her exhaustion was clear on her face, though, and it was clear the words had come out weaker than she would have liked.

  “You’re only going to get in my way, as you are now,” Elaine muttered at her. “If something goes wrong, I need you to tell Liam when he gets back.”

  “You will tell me where my warlock has gone,” the Drowned Lord informed Elaine calmly, unfazed by her denials. “You shall come to regret your reticence.”

  “You can’t take me to Arcadia,” Elaine told him, raising her voice to command his attention. “I’ve made no bargains with you.”

  The Drowned Lord smiled humorlessly. The expression put his sharpened teeth on full display. “I shall not take you to Arcadia,” he informed her. “But neither shall you leave until you tell me what I wish to know.”

  The cold, dark water around Elaine’s ankles crept upward, holding her fast and stealing her warmth. She shuddered, and closed her arms around herself. He’s going to hold me out here in the cold until I die, she realized. Just like Blackfrost did.

  But Elaine had an advantage this time that she hadn’t had before.

  She closed her eyes and reached deep down into her soul — where a shard of Blackfrost’s debt to her still lay, hungry and seething.

  That cold, dark power flooded through her, snaking along her blood. The shivers stopped abruptly, as her body embraced the winter. She opened her eyes, and pressed that shard against the Drowned Lord’s magic. A small circle of water flooded away from her, freezing into an icy barrier against the rest.

  “Run,” she told Jenna. “Now.”

  Jenna stared at her, horrified. Elaine realized belatedly that her apprentice probably still had her Witchsight open: she could see that black, hungry realm crawling its way through Elaine’s magic, freezing in her veins.

  That wouldn’t do. The Drowned Lord would recover quickly. Jenna had to be gone by the time that he did.

  Elaine snapped a phantom vine around Jenna’s arm, digging its thorns into her psyche. I’m sorry, she thought — but she was surprised to find that she didn’t actually feel sorry. Blackfrost’s magic had numbed her compunctions, replacing them with a cold, utilitarian manner of thought.

  The thorns set a prickling alarm into Jenna’s mind. Elaine’s apprentice turned on her heel and fled, stumbling back upward into the park.

  The Drowned Lord lashed out at the fleeing witch with a wave of water — but Elaine drew again upon her debt, freezing the tendrils of his power. He hissed in displeasure, and refocused his attention on her, advancing forward across the water.

  “You dare!” he said. “You attack me, with Blackfrost’s power?”

  Elaine held her ground. Her heart should have been pounding in her chest, but all of the fear she’d felt being thrown back into memories of Blackfrost and then confronted with an actual faerie lord had withered away, replaced by an absolute calm.

  “When have I attacked you?” she asked. “I have defended myself, and defended my apprentice.”

  The faerie lord didn’t respond to that… but his black eyes narrowed. He stepped onto shore, his ragged black clothing dripping as he walked. He came to a stop just in front of Elaine, towering over her. The mantle he carried pressed down upon her, even more terribly than before. Even so, she knew it was only a token of what he was capable — when faerie lords decided to abandon all restraint in the mortal world, whole cities tended to disappear, and legends were made.

  Elaine had no chance against the Drowned Lord, even with the debt that currently kept her upright. But so long as he decided she wasn’t worth the catastrophe of unleashing his full power, she could at least hold him back long enough to let Jenna escape.

  “I see what has happened,” the faerie lord rasped. “It is Lord Blackfrost who has taken my warlock. That is why I cannot feel her — she is trapped within his realm.”

  Elaine’s eyes widened at the unexpected suggestion. Did Lord Blackfrost really steal Pallid Valentine? she thought. A chill went down her spine. Liam must have told Blackfrost that Valentine was searching out his secrets. He might have acted to protect himself.

  The Drowned Lord tilted his head. “By your reaction, I surmise that I have guessed correctly,” he said coldly. He lifted one pale hand into the air, and Elaine felt his power strengthen. The feel of it nearly drove her to her knees. “Let us ask him directly, shall we? I see his debt upon you. Perhaps it is enough that he shall answer.” He gave Elaine an oddly empty smile. “If not… we shall be here for some time.”

  Elaine’s mouth went dry. He’s summoning Lord Blackfrost? she thought. The idea of Lord Blackfrost showing up terrified her nearly more than facing down the faerie lord already in front of her.

  Seconds ticked by, with the dreadful faerie lord staring down at her. Elaine found herself clinging to the shard of Blackfrost she had within her, in spite of her hatred for it — it was, after all, the only thing keeping her sane.

  She felt the moment that the air changed again — another heavy, pressing presence arrived. The temperature dropped. The flicker of icy power she’d been using to keep the Drowned Lord’s flood at bay strengthened, as a much greater power shored it up. The water of the pond crackled and froze into spidering floes of ice once again. Elaine heard no footsteps, but she felt someone behind her.

  Another overwhelming mantle pressed down upon her, stealing her breath and staggering her beneath its weight. Two faerie lords, Elaine thought with horror. If they decide to attack each other here, they could level the city. And I’m stuck between them.

  A warm hand settled onto her shoulder, pulling her back from the Drowned Lord’s towering presence.

  “Your manners tonight leave much to be desired.” Liam’s voice addressed the Drowned Lord coldly.

  He tugged Elaine gently behind him. He was dressed in a black button-down and slacks, with absolutely no deference to the weather. Shadows clung to him like cobwebs, dancing in the dead of night. His icy blue eyes were aflame with an inhuman fury.

  “You have stolen my warlock,” the Drowned Lord said, his black eyes boring into them both. “Give her back.”

  What is going on? Elaine thought wildly. But a terrible sinking feeling had begun in her stomach. Since retrieving her first real memory of Blackfrost only minutes prior, she had begun to suspect the truth.

  “I dismissed Pallid Valentine, and she returned to you,” Liam told the faerie lord. He held the faerie lord’s gaze evenly, unintimidated, but Elaine had the feeling he was afraid to look back at her. “You are lucky I did not kill her outright, given that she was meddling in my affairs at the time.”

  “You are yet half-mortal,” the Drowned Lord told Liam. “You are capable of lying. Swear it to me upon your mantle.”

  His mantle.

  She felt Liam’s hesitation through his hand on her shoulder. But he replied: “I swear it upon my mantle, as Lord of Blackfrost. I do not have your warlock, and never did.”

  As he spoke, a circlet of pure shadow wove into being upon his head, as though to confirm his words.

  Lord Blackfrost, Elaine thought faintly. Liam is the new Lord Blackfrost. He has been, all along.

  After all, who would inherit the old Lord Blackfrost’s mantle, if not his own son?

  The Drowned Lord hissed in frustration. Ice crackled as black water bucked and writhed beneath it. “…as you say,” the Drowned Lord bit out reluctantly. “Then I must search elsewhere.”

  “We are not done here,” Liam told him. “You sent your warlock to search out my secrets. She attacked someone under my protection. If anyone is owed their due, it is I.”

  A single drop of black water curved down the Drowned Lord’s face, dripping from his crown of rotten seaweed. “I did not send Pallid Valentine to do anything,” he said. “She has disobeyed me, and embarked on unsanctioned errands of her own. I swear this, too, upon my own mantle.”

  “She is nevertheless your warlock, and yo
ur responsibility,” Liam said. “If you cannot keep her on a leash, her doings are on your head. Now, you have disturbed my protection a second time. I demand payment… unless you wish to settle this matter in different way entirely.”

  Silence fell between them. The tension in the air stretched.

  “…I acknowledge this debt,” the Drowned Lord rasped. “Only because I have more pressing matters to attend.”

  A sardonic smile flashed across Liam’s face. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said. It was the first time since his appearance that he’d sounded anything like himself.

  The Drowned Lord did not deign to respond. Instead, he stepped back onto the pond… and was swallowed up.

  Liam turned to look at her. His cold blue eyes were shuttered. Elaine saw no hint of emotion on his face.

  “You lied to me,” she whispered.

  “I never lied,” Liam told her. “Not once.”

  “You let me think all sorts of things!” she burst out. Elaine thought momentarily about shoving him back — but old fear flooded through her, and her hands trembled instead at her sides. She stepped back, shivering, as Blackfrost’s power subsided from her blood.

  Liam stared at her. Was that hurt in his expression? She couldn’t tell. He had such perfect mastery of his composure.

  Skeletal, icy tree branches still leaned in upon her, overhead. The chill air, the feeling of isolation, the deep dark night, all flooded her senses. And there before her was Lord Blackfrost, dragging her back into his tangled web of faerie politics once again.

  But he wasn’t just Lord Blackfrost this time. That, she thought, was the worst part by far. He was also Liam — the man she’d fallen in love with, the romantic dream she’d been searching out for five years and more.

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Elaine whispered. “I can’t… I can’t deal with this.”

  “I know,” said Liam. His voice was flat on the words. “I don’t expect you to.” He looked away from her, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Go home, El. I won’t bother you again — you have my word.” He shot her a bleak smile. “You can believe that much, at least.”

  He stepped toward her. Elaine backpedaled instinctively, in spite of herself. Another shattered memory wracked her brain.

  Thorns like wicked nails, climbing furiously along the walls of the Lifeless Garden. Red blood on the snow — hers or someone else’s? A scream of inarticulate rage—

  Liam settled his arms around her, and pressed his lips to her forehead. His warmth soaked into her, even as his power beat against her senses. Dark, hungry Blackfrost pressed against her, starved for all her heat and life. He kept it at bay… but it was still there, she knew. Waiting.

  “I’m glad I got to see you again,” he told her softly. “Even if it was selfish of me.”

  Elaine’s heart warred with itself. Her throat closed up. This is wrong, she knew. This is all wrong, I can’t let him leave—

  But he stepped back again, and she saw that awful realm reach out for him from across worlds. Blackfrost’s dark, icy fingers closed around Liam, drenching him in shadow.

  And he was gone.

  Elaine wasn’t sure quite how long she stood in front of the pond. For a while, it all felt like a surreal dream — or maybe a nightmare.

  There was no saving Liam. The awful realization bore down upon her, relentless. There was no one to save Liam from. He wasn’t trapped by some dreadful eldritch figure. He was, himself, a wicked lord of faerie. If anything, it would make more sense for her to be saving other people from him.

  But that’s exactly it, isn’t it? Elaine thought dully, as she clutched her coat around herself. Liam is scared of becoming his father. He can’t leave Blackfrost for long, now that he’s been bound to it. He is trapped, in a way.

  “I’ll still be exactly who I am,” Liam had said. “Maybe more myself. But no more free to live the life I want.”

  If she’d let him, she realized, he might have stayed forever… and wasted away in the process.

  “You can’t get involved with me without also tangling yourself up with Blackfrost,” he’d told her.

  He hadn’t told her the truth. But in many ways… he’d gone to great lengths to warn her anyway.

  Elaine closed her eyes. Everything that Liam was terrified her. But she already knew, deep down, that she couldn’t bring herself to forget him… not again.

  Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. She tugged it out, and saw Jenna’s name on the screen.

  “Hi,” Elaine said wearily, as she picked up the phone.

  “…you’re okay?” Jenna asked. Fear, anger, and worry all clashed in her tired voice at once.

  “Yeah,” Elaine said. “And… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used my magic on you like that.”

  The other side of the line stayed silent for a long moment. Finally, Jenna spoke. “Are you a warlock, Lainey?” she asked.

  “No,” Elaine said. “It’s complicated. Blackfrost owes me a debt.” She paused. “I thought tonight would have used up more than it did. But I’ve still got plenty left to waste.” Elaine brooded. “Everything is very different than I thought it was,” she said. “And I… I have to go to Blackfrost, I think. There’s just no way around it.”

  “What?” Jenna demanded. “Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself caught all over again, Lainey!”

  Elaine swallowed hard. “I might,” she admitted. “But I have to do this. I’m sorry, Jenna.” She closed her eyes. “If… if I don’t come back. You have a key. I’ll leave the shop to you.”

  “Lainey—”

  “I’m really proud of you,” Elaine told her. “I just want you to know that.”

  She ended the call, and turned off her phone.

  Chapter 10

  Getting into Arcadia was relatively simple. The Hidden Path wasn’t really all that well-hidden, especially to those who knew how to look for it. Any strange forest — any dark side street or obscure shopfront — could lead to a connected realm, with only the slightest magical exertion. In fact, the Hidden Path often opened on its own — sometimes predictably, and sometimes without warning. A particular doorway might walk you into Eventide every time the new moon came around; a mushroom ring with a connection to the Black Forest might unexpectedly grow overnight, and then wither away just as quickly. These unexpected twists were the reason that so many mortals unintentionally found their way to Arcadia, even without prompting.

  Sometimes, Elaine thought that the Hidden Path wanted people to use it — that it was hungry for mortals and stranger beings alike. No, she thought… the problem wasn’t getting into Arcadia. It was getting out again.

  This thought weighed heavily on her mind as Elaine considered the paved path in front of her.

  The entry walk to the Allan Gardens was connected to Arcadia, if you knew how to make it work. In fact, it was one of the most reliable Paths of which she knew. Elaine had never heard of it opening on its own before, but she knew that only a tiny touch of her magic would be required to make the Path bloom. It always led into the Hedge. Most creatures would consider the Hedge to be a winding and dangerous path to travel, given the ease with which one could get lost in its maze… but for a green witch like Elaine, the Hedge was positively friendly. And, most importantly, the Hedge had no master. It neither wanted nor needed a faerie lord, and as far as anyone could tell, it had never had one.

  Elaine opened her Witchsight before she could think better of it. The wild, radiant energies of the Hedge leaked out into view instantly, only faintly muffled by the mundane snow in front of her. Elaine reached out toward the Hedge with her power, feeding it just a hint of her magic. The Arcadian realm stretched and uncurled like a flower coming into bloom, peeling back the cold, dark veil of reality. Bright green sprouts slipped between the stones in front of her, as though spring had come all at once. The Hedge called to her eagerly, beckoning her toward it. Daylight filtered out, casting sharp shadows upon the stones in front of her.


  Elaine stepped onto the Hidden Path, her stomach roiling. The world sharpened and brightened, and reality retreated entirely. Lazy sunlight bore down on her from above, warming her instantly beneath the heavy coat she wore; tall green hedges spiraled up above her to impossible heights, closing in from every side.

  She turned one last time to regard the dull, snowy path she’d just left. It seemed miles away now. She reached out with her magic to seal the way again, just in case. The last thing she needed was to discover some mortal had accidentally followed her into Arcadia.

  The hedges slowly knitted themselves closed over the sight of the Allan Garden walk. They did so somewhat more sullenly than they’d opened up to her, only further confirming Elaine’s suspicions that Arcadia was a realm greedy for visitors. Still, it took only one more nudge before the Hedges finished closing. They already had her, after all.

  Elaine shoved the thought forcibly aside, and refocused on the present. The Hedges before her twisted and turned like a labyrinth, cruel and cunning. To anyone else, they might well have been a labyrinth… but Elaine was a Taurus, and green things knew her well.

  Elaine kept her Witchsight open, though it pained her somewhat just to take in the sheer brightness of Arcadia. She fed more of her magic into the vines around her. “Tell me where the cold is,” she whispered to them. “Which way do your leaves wilt?”

  The Hedges shivered, though there was no wind to move them. Elaine let her mind tangle with them as though they were a part of her. She became aware of a hundred things, all at once: the dark hollows only a few turns away from her that housed an impossibly large and dangerous viper; the field of poisonous flowers that would put her instantly and forever to sleep if she continued straight; the still, deep waters behind her that would eventually deepen and dive into the Deeps proper, leaving the Hedge behind entirely.

  Somewhere far away, though, she felt the edges of hungry frost, eating away at the Hedge. Though the Hedge was technically endless, it still resented the way that Blackfrost crept in upon it, withering the life there and stealing pieces of it for itself. Other domains sometimes encroached upon the Hedge, quietly annexing pieces of it — the Briars were particularly guilty on this count — but none were so blatantly offensive about it as Blackfrost was.