The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  Mum stood in the corner, wearing an expression that suggested anyone who tried to speak to her would find themselves with a knife at their throat. Yeah, she and Darrow really would get along. Not that I’d seen him so far. Coral and the other half-faeries surrounded the estate ready to intercept Lord Daival and his allies, but my former mentor hadn’t showed his face yet.

  Too restless to keep still, I walked around the main room, weaving between the fountains and tables and statuary. I paced until my feet ached and the knives strapped to my thighs, arms and chest chafed against my skin. Nobody asked me to dance—they could sense the iron even if they couldn’t see it—which was fine by me.

  The sky darkened overhead, though it should still be daytime here if you followed Earth logic. In Faerie, a day could last forever or a second depending on what the Sidhe wanted.

  I rounded a corner and spotted Darrow making his way towards me, sidestepping two goat-footed satyrs and a giggling nymph.

  “What is this?” He indicated the room at large, from the finely-dressed courtiers to the barrels of wine.

  “A party,” I told him. “Didn’t we talk about it earlier?”

  “I didn’t know you planned to do this today,” he said. “With so little time to prepare for an attack.”

  “For whom?” I asked. “It had to be today, because Lord Daival said he’d kill one heir per day.” At his suspicious stare, my heart sank. Had he figured out Lord Daival’s threat had been about more than taunting me, and that there was something he wanted from me in exchange for sparing the heir’s life?”

  “Has it occurred to you that this threat of his might have been intended to deflect attention from his larger goal to break the Seelie Queen out of jail?” said Darrow. “He might be planning to take advantage of everyone’s attention being here.”

  Oh, no. He’s just being a dick instead.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that. That’s why there’s extra security there. Lord Raivan saw to it.” What was his problem? “Did you just come here to criticise all my ideas? If you wanted to help carry in the wine barrels, you could have just asked Lord Niall. I’m not in charge, as far as any of the Sidhe know. I’m the woman behind the scenes, that’s all.”

  “You certainly work fast.” He gave the room another scan, his gaze picking out the guards stationed beside each door and window. “Or Lord Niall does. Lord Raivan, too. What made you decide to pick him as a confidant?”

  “He doesn’t ask questions.” Why, did it bother him that I hadn’t chosen him instead? He was acting bloody weird. I gave him a surreptitious look and spotted a wine glass in his hand, while his eyes seemed to shimmer brighter than usual. “Are you drunk?”

  He couldn’t have got smashed in such a short space of time, surely, unless he was more of a lightweight than I was.

  “Does it matter?” His voice didn't slur, but it was hard to tell with half-faeries.

  “Damn,” I said. “You beat me to it. What brought this on?”

  “Whoever said there had to be a reason?” His gaze flicked around the room as though unwilling to focus on my face. “You didn’t tell them they might be attacked?”

  “Can you imagine the ruckus if I had?” I stepped out of range as one of the Sidhe fell headfirst into the water fountain, splashing everyone in the vicinity with glittering foam. “Trust me, if Lord Daival shows his face, he’ll be surrounded in seconds. I’ve got it covered.”

  “I suppose you have.” His finger brushed my chest, and I stiffened, confused, until I realised he was moving one of my knife sheaths out of view. Not feeling me up. Behave, Hazel. “You might want to hide the iron. Do you usually keep your weapons in such prominent places?”

  “Prominent?” I arched a brow.

  His finger left a trail of heat across my collarbone, sending warmth pooling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m saying you’re wearing so many iron knives that if you try seducing another Sidhe, you might knock them unconscious.”

  I stifled a laugh. No wonder he’d resisted my attempts to get him drunk if one glass had such a strong effect on him.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “I’ll let any Sidhe I seduce know you’re so concerned for his safety.”

  “Who?” The word came out so fast that my brows shot up. Was he jealous? Of a hypothetical Sidhe who didn’t actually exist? I had no plans to seduce anyone—including Darrow, for that matter—but damn if this wasn’t an entertaining conversation on multiple levels. Had I finally caused him to crack, or was there some other reason he’d dipped into the elf wine as soon as he’d walked in here?

  He frowned. “What are you grinning at?”

  “You.” I took his wrist. “What’re you doing, drowning your sorrows?”

  Might his encounter with the memory-eater be preying on his mind? It was as good a guess as any.

  He loosened his arm from mine. “Not in a literal sense, I take it.”

  “Figure of speech,” I said. “And for me, it’s more like drowning my minor annoyances. Lady Aiten is the most ungrateful Sidhe I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot.”

  I picked up a wine glass of my own from a passing hobgoblin, sniffed it for poison, and took a sip. One glass would be fine, but any more than that and I risked compromising my fighting skills.

  “I didn't know you came close to death at Lord Daival’s hands,” he said. “If I'd known he was capable of that, I would have come with you.”

  There was something odd in his tone. Worry? “You mean if you’d known he’d kick my arse? What makes you think you could have done any better?”

  Even Darrow would have had his work cut out fighting against those thorns. I didn’t know whether to feel insulted that he thought himself more capable of beating Lord Daival than I was or flattered that he’d been worried for me. He wasn’t at all acting like the closed-off Darrow I knew.

  “You chose to confide your plans in Lord Raivan,” he went on. “Lord Raivan is known to be lazy and cowardly.”

  I tipped back my glass, the sweet taste of wine filling my mouth. “He’s the head of ambassadors between humans and Sidhe, and he knows Lord Niall personally. If you’re offended that I didn’t ask you instead, you’re better at standing in the corner glaring at people than organising parties.”

  The words came out harsher than I intended, tinged with disbelief that my near-death had apparently bothered him so much that he’d got himself inebriated in the same place where we’d ended up… closer than intended, last time. Thank the gods the spelled forest lay on the opposite side of the room.

  A moment passed. “You want me to leave?”

  “No.” Wait, I did, didn’t I? Was the magic from that grove drifting over here, or was it the elf wine? “That’s not what I meant. I spoke without thinking.”

  Not for the first time. In ordinary circumstances, this would be the last place I’d want rational thoughts to intervene, but not with Lord Daival somewhere out there, prepared to walk right into our trap.

  “I thought so,” he said. “You tend to do that when you’re uncomfortable.”

  “Not uncomfortable. Confused.” Okay, this was getting too weird. “Darrow, you’re working for another Court. My Court is in the middle of a crisis, and the talisman you’re looking for isn’t here. You’re wasting your time.”

  “The talisman isn’t the reason I’m here,” he said. “The Summer Court’s situation has the potential to affect far more than your own Court, and while the Aes Sidhe might not be part of the Seelie Court any longer, we are still Summer fae.”

  “Then why does Etaina not come in person to offer her help?” He wasn’t working behind her back, was he? Surely not, after his honest statement that he believed Etaina was undoubtedly the best person to take care of the Erlking’s talisman. His motives might be incomprehensible to me, but he was as consistent as it was possible for one of the notoriously mercurial fae to be.

  “Because she wishes to retain our secrecy.” He didn’t quite meet my eyes. “Our survival de
pends on it.”

  Really? Because from what I’ve seen, Etaina is more than a match for most other Sidhe. That glamour of hers…

  “Interesting,” I said. “Why, then, does she still want the Summer Court to think of your people as extinct when most of us weren’t even born when you split from Summer?”

  And why did I keep needling him? Was it because I wanted to keep digging myself into a hole, or was I searching, against all the odds, for proof that he wasn’t Etaina’s lackey after all? That he’d had a change of heart?

  “She’s never told me,” he said, “but I broke your trust when I took you with me to my Court, and I’m sorry for that.”

  “I imagine your vow gave you no choice.”

  “No…” His gaze turned downwards, as if ashamed. “I did have a choice. I wasn’t ordered to bring you to her.”

  No, you were ordered to find the talisman. Too bad the two are one and the same. “Not being bound by a vow doesn’t mean you had a choice in the matter. Is she going to come after my family?”

  His mouth parted. “She said that?”

  A frustrated noise escaped. “How much glamour did she hit you with? Don’t tell me you’re so far under her influence you can’t see the truth. Even I can see it, and I’m human.”

  “I would prefer not to discuss that in the presence of others,” he said, the words measured. “But let me assure you I am here because I wish to be and not because I was ordered to do so, and I will ensure that nobody brings harm to your family.”

  “I take it your vow to her doesn’t stop you from forming friendships with other Court members?” I said. “I’m assuming not, considering what nearly happened by the forest last time.”

  Almost involuntarily, my gaze darted towards the curtain of vines concealing the entrance to the spelled grove. His did, too, as though remembering the last time the faeries’ magic had slid out and drawn us to one another like two opposing forces colliding.

  “You told me you enjoyed it.”

  “Uh-huh.” My heartbeat kicked into gear. “I never said otherwise. That’s not the same as trusting your leader not to order you to slit my throat on a whim.”

  His breath rushed in sharply. “She would never order me to harm you, and if she did, I would refuse to do so.”

  My feet teetered at the edge of a cliff. “Would you, though?”

  Even if he turns on her, we’ll know how it’ll turn out when he finds out what you did with the talisman.

  Go away, I told the mental voice. It was really starting to tick me off. Darrow’s behaviour had knocked me off-kilter, made me doubt myself where I’d have otherwise ploughed on without a second’s thought. Because he did have feelings for me. and the warmth I felt when he held my gaze made it hard to look away.

  An inexplicable smile stirred on his face. “Is there any way to be certain with one of the fae? You aren’t like other humans. You know the risks of associating with one of us, and there are no guarantees. Even your own freedom hangs by a tenuous thread.”

  “I should be offended on behalf of my species,” I said. “Yes. I know the risks. That’s why this isn’t going to go anywhere, Darrow. There’s nothing between us.”

  “Are you sure?” His hand slid down my face to my chin, and my pulse fluttered, my body stirring to life. Not from the forest’s magic, but the tingle of his skin against mine, awakening my senses and making me acutely aware that my knives were stashed in really inconvenient places.

  Darrow brought his mouth down on mine. His scent of oak and ash wrapped around me, while my arms encircled his shoulders. He tasted of elf wine, like me, and his intoxicated state sent my blood roaring in response.

  My freedom hangs by a thread, does it?

  I kissed him recklessly, driven by a need that refused to be sated and a wild urge to quell the string of questions drifting through my mind.

  Would you kill me if you knew I claimed the talisman?

  Is it bad that I want to screw you anyway?

  The sound of someone calling my name cut through my dazed state. I dropped my hand and looked around for Lord Daival, but instead, Lady Aiten marched towards us. Bright green magic shone from her eyes, a sure sign she was pissed as hell at me.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she said.

  “Of what?” I stepped back from Darrow. “Lord Niall doesn’t need to ask your permission before hosting a revel. Talk to him, not me.”

  “Do you think I’m unaware this is your handiwork, Gatekeeper?”

  “It’s all the same to me, to be honest.” My annoyance spiked, not least because of the timing of her interruption. “I’m here to catch Lord Daival. If this doesn’t work, then feel free to chastise me, but not before.”

  “That’s not what it looks like to me.” Her gaze went to Darrow. “You look like you have other things on your mind.”

  “I can multitask.” Maybe I should dive into the fountain to cool down. Or just throw Lady Aiten in there. “As I said, talk to—”

  The sound of sobbing drifted over from the back of the hall, and Lady Aiten’s gaze fell on a couple of young women sitting by the tangled tree roots. One of them bent her head, a wine glass dangling from her hand and spilling crimson droplets onto her cape. Coral. Willow had an arm around her, murmuring condolences, and Coral’s head pillowed on the other half-Sidhe’s chest.

  Lady Aiten made to walk towards them, but I stepped in her way. “What are you doing?”

  “Willow is my daughter.” Disapproval laced her tone. She and Willow looked alike enough that I’d suspected they must be related, but clearly, she hadn’t known who her daughter had been spending her time with.

  “Look, Coral’s brother is going to be executed tomorrow,” I reminded her. “Maybe leave her alone?”

  “My daughter should not associate with another Court’s heir,” she said. “It’s unbecoming of a Summer high-born.”

  “She’s half-blood, right? That means she’s not a full Court member.” Come to think of it, her existence meant Lady Aiten had once had an affair with a human.

  “She swore to uphold our family’s honour,” she insisted.

  “Lady Aiten, might I remind you we’re trying to catch a criminal here?” I said through clenched teeth. “You were just lecturing me for getting distracted. Talk to Willow later, if you must, but we have more important things to—”

  The sound of a harp’s strings cut through the surrounding clamour: the signal I’d agreed on with the half-faeries to indicate Lord Daival had been spotted.

  He’s here.

  I turned my back on Lady Aiten and whipped the knife from my cleavage, heading for the source of the noise. Darrow shouted my name, but I kept my attention on the crowd gathering in front of the doors.

  “Move aside!” I shouted to the Sidhe. “Cover all the exits. Do not let any of them escape.”

  Pandemonium broke out in a flurry of bloodthirsty cries and weapons being drawn. Clumsy troll feet kicked over tables, sluaghs drifted over the vats of elf wine, and all manner of Vale beasts fell on the guards’ blades. From the sound of swords clashing outside, my half-Sidhe guards had been ready. Told you we were prepared, Lady Aiten.

  Lord Raivan led a group of Sidhe on the attack, his hat lopsided and his hair in disarray. Together, they brought an armoured troll crashing down into the dirt with well-timed strikes to its bulky legs, avoiding the iron chains that dangled from its bloody wrists.

  I stabbed a sluagh with my knife, and the beast evaporated into thin air the instant the iron made contact. “Some of them might be illusions!” I shouted in warning, but the Sidhe didn’t give any indication they’d heard me. The ruckus near the door continued, but whirling swords and rampaging Vale beasts blocked my view.

  Losing patience, I leapt onto a table and ran through the middle of the hall. My feet kicked at fancy dishes, upended plates, and slipped in spilt drinks. With a flying leap, I landed in a mass of tangled bushes. An ogre lifted its head to intercept me, but I skewered it through
the neck with a single thrust. Kicking the ogre’s body aside, I made for the mass of bodies near the door, and the silver-haired figure pinned beneath the blade of another Sidhe.

  Lord Daival.

  I raised my knife, and saw a group of Sidhe circling Lord Daival. He raised his hands in defence, and the flinch in his movement made me pause. “Wait—he doesn’t have thorns. It’s not him. Stop!”

  The Sidhe didn’t hear me. A blade opened his throat, the illusion unravelling at the seams and falling to the ground in a shower of crimson blood.

  “Murder!” someone shouted. “Lord Garin is dead!”

  The Sidhe who’d killed the false Lord Daival backed away from the corpse, revealing the sightless eyes of the Sidhe I recognised as the wolf shifter who’d declared himself the Erlking’s heir.

  “He killed Lord Garin!” Accusing fingers pointed at the male Sidhe, who had a curtain of ink-black hair and furred ears.

  The Sidhe shook his head violently. “I thought he was with the enemy. By my family’s blood, I swear he looked like Lord Daival when I stabbed him.”

  My stomach lurched. Had the enemy projected illusions so the Sidhe would stab their own people? Was Lord Garin the heir all along? Perhaps Lord Daival had heard talk of his declaration and had targeted him for that reason, but either way, he’d kept his word to kill one Sidhe per day without even showing his face.

  More than one, in fact. I spotted several other bloodied bodies scattered throughout Lord Niall’s house, surrounded by stunned guests and the bodies of fallen ogres, trolls and other beasts.

  “Did anyone see the real Lord Daival?” I walked over to the half-faeries. “Who gave the signal?”

  Nobody answered. My gaze sought out Mum, whose blade dripped with troll blood, and I ran to her side. “The gate—”

  “Safe,” she said. “He’s not there. Ilsa told me.”

  Then where is he? Who among the shell-shocked Sidhe was the heir to the Erlking’s throne?