Faerie Lords Boxset

by Isabella August

  “Oh, hush,” a voice said. Zoe realized belatedly that there was a woman standing next to Blackfrost, sheltered in the shadow of his power. Her long black hair stood out starkly against pale skin that glowed like moonlight. Her eyes pierced the darkness of Blackfrost, a bright and bewitching aquamarine that could only be evidence of the touch of a warlock’s pact. Her kind, relieved smile and her comfortable-looking cardigan rather undercut the look, however. She stepped aside to help with the seigneur. “I’m so glad that you’re all right, Simon,” she sighed.

  Simon shot her a smile of genuine friendship and affection. Zoe might have felt a hint of jealousy, if she hadn’t seen the gentler, less powerful crown of shadows that whispered about the woman’s head. “I’m surprised that His Lordship allowed you anywhere near this mess, Elaine,” he said.

  Elaine snorted. “Allowed,” she repeated, as though the very thought was ridiculous. She helped Simon haul Jean to an unsteady standing position. Between the two of them, they managed to bring the vampire to the liminal boundary between Blackfrost and the Briars. Zoe noted, however, that Elaine did not step over that line herself. Suspicion flitted through her aura as her eyes locked upon the Lady of Briars; as soon as Jean was handled, Elaine pulled back toward Blackfrost’s side.

  Whatever their history, however, the Lady had no attention to spare for Elaine. Her too-green eyes were focused upon Wormwood. “Thief,” she hissed. Her voice echoed in the sky above them, cutting through the thunder. “Never again shall you take what is mine!”

  Lord Wormwood considered her with a blank curiosity in his expression. The frost had climbed up his chest, painting his ragged morning coat and trapping his arms behind him. “I understand,” he said to her. “I see it clearly now. You are infected. You and the other one… you have both been poisoned by the Lower World.”

  Of the things that Wormwood might have said, that seemed to be the only one for which the Lady of Briars was unprepared. She cringed back as though he had slapped her. Gray, withered shame shot through her at the sound of her secret spoken aloud.

  “It will be the death of you,” Wormwood told her softly. His violet eyes bore into her. “You are not the first to fall into the vices of the Lower World. The corruption leads to madness of a sort far beyond even my powers.”

  The words were aimed true. Zoe saw them strike neatly. Each one caused ripples of anguish through the Lady. The Briars flinched back with her — Zoe had to stagger back to keep her feet upon them. Blackfrost staggered and reoriented himself, hurrying to stake his claim upon the portion of Delirium which the Lady had abandoned.

  The colorful, shifting crown upon Wormwood’s brow flared. “It may not be too late for you,” he said. “This poison alone, I might deign to cure.”

  There was no malice in the words — Wormwood wasn’t capable of malice. There was merely observation, and cold, empty calculation.

  Blackfrost growled in annoyance. He curled his fingers together; the ice on Wormwood’s body crawled up toward his neck. “You have it backward,” the faerie lord drawled, though Zoe could see the effort he was expending to shore up the Lady’s retreat. “I was born to both worlds. Of the two, I found Arcadia to be the infection… but I have conquered it.” He turned cold blue eyes upon the Lady. “The pure ideas of Arcadia, unsullied by emotion, are endless and perfect… and also useless. To dabble in the Lower World is to be infected by meaning. It is a priceless corruption — a madness the likes of which a creature like Wormwood cannot dream.”

  The Lady narrowed alien green eyes at him. “Do not deign to lecture me, wicked lord!” she hissed. “I am not some warlock caught under your spell! You would only be so pleased to see me wallow in the same misery in which you find yourself!”

  One of the fading stars that had hit the ground flashed anew, cutting back Blackfrost’s grasp upon the darkness. Zoe’s eyes widened. This is a shitty time for an existential crisis!

  “I do not lie,” Lord Wormwood sighed. “Look at the wages of the Lower World, Lady. They are all around you. It is that madness which led these warlocks to my realm. And to what end? Do they even know? Do you know why it is you are here, battering down my doors at the side of your greatest enemy?” He stared her down. “Let me free, and I shall help you.”

  The Lady of Briars hesitated. The Briars shrank back another few feet.

  Zoe glanced at Simon. He still held the seigneur, but he was watching the Lady with a strange look on his face. Worry and grief and regret chased each other within him — and yes, there was love there too. He doesn’t know what to say, Zoe realized. When you’re hurting, it’s natural to want to stop hurting.

  The Lady was a small woman, even in her full wrath. Zoe was able to step fully between her and Wormwood, blocking her view. She drew herself up, fighting back her fear in the face of the creature that owned her soul. I have no idea what to say, she realized. But clearly someone’s got to say something.

  “Maybe he really can get rid of all your feelings,” Zoe said. “But if he does, you don’t get to pick and choose. You can’t love someone and not miss them when they disappear. You miss them because you love them. You get that, right?”

  Rage sparked in the Lady. Zoe felt the prick of the Briars all around her, inside her, in response to the faerie lord’s anger. “Do not dare to lecture me, warlock. You belong to me.”

  Everything she was quavered in the face of that towering presence. Visions of Malcolm’s tortured body flashed into her mind. But Zoe swallowed down her misgivings. “I promised to be yours,” she said. “I promised to serve you the best way I know how. So I’m doing that. If what I am doesn’t serve you, then you also have the right to… you know. Get rid of me.”

  The Lady hesitated. Zoe saw the faerie lord seriously weighing the option of her death. The sight was not terribly encouraging.

  Simon was already on his feet. He may not have been able to see the Lady’s emotions the same way that Zoe did, but he clearly had no interest in gambling on what he couldn’t see. He went quickly to Zoe’s side. “That’s not an option,” he said. There was a measure of desperation in his voice. He turned to look at the Lady. “That’s not an option,” he repeated. “Let her go, if you don’t want her. She doesn’t have to serve you.”

  The Lady’s crown of briars shook, as though in a great wind. Her emerald eyes flashed. Her long, thin fingers clenched into fists. “You would leave me too,” she said. “You will leave me all alone, Simon, just like Rose. Shall I walk again in my gardens, forlorn? Shall I hold so much wasted love that my heart rots inside me?”

  “Yes!” Simon burst out. “Yes, that’s what you should do! It’s what I do!” He stalked forward to grab the Lady by the shoulders. “Flowers die all the time — are you going to raze your gardens to the ground because you might grow too attached to one of them?”

  The Lady flinched back — every inch of her curled and retreated from the unexpected flash of anger. He’s never yelled at her before, Zoe thought, wide-eyed.

  “You begged me for my help!” Simon told her. “You asked me to give up everything I was, right when I was hurting just as much as you were — and I did! I gave you that!” His jaw trembled with emotion. “I did that because I didn’t want you to hurt alone. And I have come to love you, Mother. But if you erase what you have become, then there will be nothing left for me to love.”

  The Lady… wilted. Zoe saw the fight go out of her. The acceptance in her aura was sad and despairing… but it was acceptance.

  Zoe reached out to take the faerie lord’s hand. It was small and fragile-seeming, though she knew the Lady of Briars was stronger than the greatest tree. She wasn’t sure quite what made her do it — maybe it was Simon’s obvious distress, or maybe his sympathy for the Lady had finally, fully infected her. But she squeezed the faerie lord’s hand gently.

  “Let’s go back to your gardens together,” she said. “You and me and Simon.”

  A flicker of longing went through the Lady. She turned her attention
back to Wormwood. The Lord of Delirium stood somber and silent, his empty violet eyes staring with disapproval as the Briars slithered in to reinforce Blackfrost.

  Lord Blackfrost relaxed minutely. The full darkness of his power leaned slowly upon the poisonous faerie lord before him. Wormwood’s hands had become only so much ice; his fingers began to crack and bleed a strange black tar.

  “You cannot hold my realm forever,” Wormwood said. Even the alarm in his aura at his own impending demise was hollow — a kind of show, put on because it was expected. “My mantle shall simply pass to another. Delirium will shape them in its image. Eventually, it shall be as though I never died at all.”

  “That’s true,” Blackfrost acknowledged. He smiled sharply. “But nothing lasts forever — not even victory. I’m better at accepting that than the rest of you.”

  His cold blue eyes shot through with black. His hungry realm snapped out at Wormwood, devouring at the other faerie lord. The tarry black cracks in Wormwood’s hands splintered and grew, spidering their way up toward his neck… until the ice overtook him entirely, and the rest of him shattered to the ground.

  Upon the frigid soil of Blackfrost was left an unpleasant oily stain and a wildly shifting crown of many colors.

  Chapter 18

  The Lady’s gardens were utterly quiet.

  There were no whispers in the trees, no wind in the flowers. There was instead a somber kind of silence, as though the realm itself were mourning.

  Simon and the Lady walked ahead, arm in arm. They shared a tired, severe sort of finality between them. The toy-like sun in the sky cast a rosy glow over everything in sight as it sank beneath the horizon. Zoe hung back behind them, Jean leaning heavily upon her shoulder. The weight of the moment was such that even the seigneur had recognized it, and kept his silence.

  They eventually paused before a large oak tree, threaded over with rose vines. Zoe didn’t have to look very closely to recognize the emotion sunk into those flowers.

  Simon disengaged himself from the faerie lord and stepped forward. From one pocket, he pulled a long, silver chain — a simple golden ring dangled at the end. As he draped the chain over one of the branches of the tree, Zoe saw a longstanding weight lift away from his aura. It might have been her imagination, but she thought that the black threads of grief in the Lady’s aura might have lifted some as well.

  “Should I feel better?” the Lady of Briars murmured. It seemed like a genuine question. “I have my answer. The witch is dead.”

  “I’m not sure,” Simon admitted softly. He stepped back again, and embraced the Lady for a moment. “Perhaps I’ll know tomorrow.”

  The faerie lord nodded slowly. The reassuring glow of Simon’s aura infected her, salving the injuries that still remained. She sighed, and the sun disappeared abruptly, replaced by a dark night sky and a sliver of moonlight.

  Simon knelt down and settled his back against the tree, the Lady leaned against his shoulder. He smiled at Zoe, and beckoned her over.

  For just a moment, she drank in the sight of him, the feel of him: white-blond hair, gentle green eyes, and all the warmth of a fire in the hearth. It was hard to distinguish his scent from the Briars that surrounded him, but that seemed appropriate somehow. The realm itself had bent around him, displaying its pleasure at his presence in a hundred little ways.

  You belong here, Zoe thought. And I belong wherever you are.

  She moved forward, first settling Jean to sit, and then wearily tucking herself beneath Simon’s arm. A sigh of relief escaped her, and she closed her eyes, soaking in his presence. Simon pressed his lips softly to the top of her hair, with a surge of love so unmistakable and sweet that it nearly brought her to tears.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

  “Please,” Zoe muttered back. “That’s my line.”

  Simon squeezed her shoulders, leaning his cheek against her hair. Zoe savored the feeling. Simon’s peace and relief spread through the Briars themselves, reflected back in the blossoming of night flowers and a gentle, heady breeze. Zoe had begun to suspect that it wasn’t entirely due to the Lady’s emotions and desires. Can a whole faerie realm fall in love? she wondered.

  I don’t think he’s even noticed. He doesn’t know how much everything wants him here — how much the whole world longs for him to stay.

  Nearby, Jean had closed his eyes, forcing himself to rest. There was still a sense of instability to his normally restrained aura — enough so that Zoe couldn’t bring herself to ignore the tension. She turned to press her lips to Simon’s jaw, and then forced herself to sit upright. “Lady,” she said. “I don’t want to forget. I owe the seigneur of Montreal his promised price.”

  The Lady of Briars considered this, from her placid place next to Simon. Her willow-reed hair shivered — an envelope unfolded from it like a blossom. The faerie lord plucked it free and passed it delicately over into Zoe’s hands.

  “I am also pleased,” the Lady said. “You showed great daring, lord of vampires. Have your due, and be my guest until my warlocks depart.”

  Jean took the envelope from Zoe with a slow nod. He tucked it into his pocket, next to the other one. A sickly violet reminiscent of Wormwood’s eyes still lingered within him, but he shoved it aside. Zoe saw him gather himself to speak. When he did, his silver eyes fixed on her. “You were not wrong, mademoiselle,” he told her. His voice rasped somewhat on the words. “I have perhaps grown too fond of using others, of late. There are still some things which I might do with my own hands.”

  Zoe frowned. There was that thoughtful, calculating cloak to the seigneur again… but it was inward-focused, fixed upon himself. She caught a glimpse of deep pride within him. He had the drive to be better, to do better — not out of any sense of altruism, but because he refused to settle for less.

  “All right,” she sighed. “I guess I’d be kind of sad if you died, too. Happy?”

  A smirk tugged at the side of his mouth. “Your graciousness knows no bounds, mademoiselle,” he acknowledged.

  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’m willing to jump into whatever underhanded shit you’ve got brewing in the city. I’ve got my limits.” She shifted into a seated position, struggling with the bad taste of the words on her tongue. “If you want help the next time you’ve got someone to protect… I might consider it. If you ask. But that kind of alliance will cost you.”

  Simon shot her a concerned look, but she shook her head at him. Jean was right too. People went out of their way to watch my back when I needed it. Not everyone gets that lucky. I can do more than hide now.

  Jean raised one black eyebrow. He hadn’t expected the offer. “And what cost would you ask of me?”

  Zoe set her jaw. “You said you weren’t interested in hurting Jaz. I want to know that for sure.” She met his eyes directly. “You make an oath to me before we leave, on your blood — vampires can do that, right? Swear that you’ll never do anything to consciously hurt Jasmine Basak.”

  Jean mused this over. Before he could respond, however, Simon interjected: “Might I suggest instead… monseigneur shall consider Detective Basak’s well-being to be just as important as his own. There are fewer ways for him to wiggle free of such an oath.”

  A flare of irritation went through Jean’s aura, and Zoe smiled. “That one,” she said. “Thanks, Simon.”

  Jean’s expression remained neutral, but she saw him weighing the options. “That is an oath of substance,” he said. “It will tie me to see more personally to the detective’s safety.”

  “Detective Basak matters,” Zoe reminded the seigneur. “You said that, not me. And I’m not asking you to do anything I wouldn’t do myself. The next vampire that bothers Jaz is going to find me really uncomfortable to deal with, if she doesn’t handle it herself first.”

  Jean thought on that, long and silent. That pride balanced on a razor’s edge… but Zoe watched as his gambler’s nature shoved it over. He smiled faintly. “I will take you
r oath,” he said. “For the space of a year and a day. But you will swear in return to publicly display your friendship to me for the same period. Should the arrangement prove mutually beneficial, perhaps we shall extend it further.”

  Zoe frowned. A public alliance was potentially dangerous… but it was hardly the worst thing that the seigneur could have asked for. “I’m not swearing to you on my true name,” she said guardedly.

  “There is hardly a need,” Jean said. He looked past her, toward the Lady. “You will swear instead on the Briars, before your patron… if she is so amenable.”

  The Lady considered this coolly. Her emerald eyes flashed. “As you wish, vampire lord,” she said. “As you have shown courage and cunning in my presence, I shall grant this request.”

  Zoe shivered. As far as oaths went, it was hard to find a more deadly proposition. But she steeled her spine and nodded. She offered out a hand to the seigneur. “I swear before the Lady, on the Briars themselves,” she said.

  Jean sealed her hand in his. “I swear to hold Jasmine Basak’s well-being to be every bit as important as my own, for the space of a year and a day — on my blood and on my power.”

  Zoe watched the seigneur’s red hunger curl about the words, sinking into them with finality.

  Jean released her hand. A soft laugh escaped him; that violet twist shuddered through his aura, and he shivered, forcing it down again. “A friendship then, mon amie,” he said.

  Zoe pressed her lips together. “That was crazy what you did, by the way,” she told him. “Kind of literally. I’ll see what I can do to repair the fallout before you leave, but you’re gonna want to take it easy for a bit.”

  Jean waved her concern away. “I have no interest in easy,” he said. But he inclined his head in acknowledgement. “That said, I will of course accept whatever help you are able to provide.”

  Zoe settled herself back into Simon’s side. He sighed, and held her close. In the glow of his aura, she felt the tension and terror of the last few days finally fade away.