The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  I rounded the corner and found myself with several weapons pointed at my throat. Just like old times.

  “Hi, Lady Aiten,” I said. “Look who I found?”

  Lady Aiten, a tall Sidhe with olive skin and dark hair, stood flanked by two armoured soldiers. One, a female with fox ears and auburn hair, narrowed her eyes at me, but the wolf-faced Sidhe on Lady Aiten’s other side gasped aloud as the Erlking’s sprite flew in front of their group.

  The sprite bowed to the three Sidhe. “I have come to pass on word of the Erlking’s successor to those in charge of his estate. I came here with my Queen, and I would not see her come to harm.”

  I winced inwardly. Referring to me as his ‘Queen’ in front of the other Sidhe wouldn’t make them hate me any less.

  The Sidhe, however, didn’t seem to have heard that part. They all gaped openly at him, their features shining with wonder and hope.

  “He knows the heir,” said Lady Aiten. “Why—we must inform them at once.”

  “Not quite,” I said hastily. “That is—he mentioned the Erlking intended there to be a contest to choose a worthy heir, based on a list of those chosen by the Erlking himself.”

  Lady Aiten ignored my words. “Who is the heir?”

  “As my Queen says,” said the sprite, “the Erlking hand-picked a selection of those who he decided had the potential to be his successor. Since it has been such a long time since a new heir of Summer ascended to the throne, he believed it would be fairest if all the potential contenders were allowed to prove their worth.”

  “What manner of test would this be?” asked Lady Aiten. “Claiming a talisman?”

  Her gaze went to the staff in my hands, and the merest hint of shadows flickering around the edges.

  “No,” said the sprite, his wings beating quickly. “The Erlking believed talismans such as this one are not objective entities. They have their own agendas, and the heir needs to be chosen by Summer itself. He laid out a number of tests, but I am only allowed to speak of the details to the potential heirs.”

  “We will discuss this further,” added Lady Aiten. “Gatekeeper, you may leave.”

  She was still calling me ‘Gatekeeper’? That was reason enough to believe she wasn’t going to sentence me to death, at least.

  Swift flew to my shoulder. “I require the assistance of my Qu—”

  “Please, just call me Hazel,” I said. “I’ll be fine if you stay here. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

  “Assemble a list,” Lady Aiten ordered Swift, “and we will send out invitations to those selected by the Erlking. If they accept, the event will start tomorrow.”

  “I will.” The sprite fluttered his wings. “As the Erlking wished.”

  I turned to face Lady Aiten once again. “I know you and I don’t see eye to eye, but the Erlking’s sprite wishes to stay with my family at the moment. If you allow us to move our gate back to the ambassadors’ palace, it would enable Swift to travel back and forth without risking encountering dangers elsewhere in the Court.”

  Lady Aiten’s eyes blazed with magic. “We will consider granting your request, Gatekeeper. Leave, now.”

  2

  I woke the following morning feeling more optimistic than I had the right to, considering the Sidhe hadn’t outright said they forgave me for claiming the Erlking’s talisman. Nor talked to me at all, except to order me to leave. Still, I was lucky they hadn’t just skewered me there and then and let the consequences work themselves out.

  A pair of bright eyes blinked at me, and I jumped at the sight of the Erlking’s sprite perched on my bedside table. “Whoa. Don’t startle me like that.”

  “Apologies, my Queen.”

  I groaned. “Please, don’t call me that. If the Sidhe hear, they’ll think you’re claiming I have a higher authority than them, and they’ll punish me for it.”

  “They should not!” Swift flapped his wings in an agitated manner. “You are the Summer Gatekeeper, wielder of my master’s talisman.”

  “Then you can call me Gatekeeper if you really don’t want to call me Hazel,” I said. “Please.”

  “As you wish, Gatekeeper.” He bowed, flitting back to where I’d propped the staff against the wall.

  “You don’t fear it, do you?” I observed. “Did the talisman’s magic not affect you?”

  “My master would never have harmed me,” he said.

  “He did have control over its magic?” From the look of his territory, he hadn’t, unless he’d left the clearing in its rotting state to discourage anyone from trespassing and challenging him. That was actually a smart idea, and it’d worked for a few centuries, too.

  “Yes.” The sprite fluttered down over the staff’s hilt. “As do you, which proves your worthiness.”

  “I’m not its long-term owner.” No way in hell. I pushed back the covers. “Can you go outside while I get dressed, please?”

  I ran a hand through my dishevelled hair and replaced the circlet on my brow. I wore it every day out of habit, but as an exile, it seemed absurd for me to be forced to take part in every step of the process of electing a new monarch. The Sidhe shouldn’t be my responsibility. Yet I’d been focused on survival—not just my own, but my entire family’s—for so long that it made it difficult to plan for the future, and right now, I couldn’t think of anything better to do but see to it that the Sidhe didn’t screw up the process of replacing the Erlking.

  And ensure the Seelie Queen didn’t ruin everything again.

  After I’d showered and dressed, I went downstairs. The sound of chattering from the living room told me the sprite had waylaid Ilsa, and sure enough, I found my sister sprawled on the sofa with Swift perched on the arm. The half-formed family tree spread across the coffee table had become a permanent fixture here, more or less. I rolled my eyes at Ilsa’s dishevelled hair and the pile of blankets indicating she’d slept here. “Really, Ilsa? You’re still working on the family tree?”

  “It looks like the Erlking picked some of his descendants as his nominees.” Ilsa waved a long curling roll of parchment in the air.

  “Whoa, you have the list?” I took the parchment from my sister and gave it a scan, recognising some of the names. “Do the Sidhe listed here all know they might be the next monarch?”

  “Lady Aiten has informed the heirs of the impending trials,” said Swift. “They will begin as soon as dawn breaks in Faerie.”

  “And you’ll be supervising?” I handed the list back to Ilsa and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the coffee table. ‘As soon as dawn breaks’ didn’t tell me much, since the Sidhe’s magical influence over time in their realm meant they could have a month of perpetual midnight if the mood took them.

  “I will inform the heirs of the requirements of the trials, and they will swear a vow to take part if they wish,” the sprite said solemnly.

  Vows. Of course vows would be involved. “You can go and do that. You don’t have to ask my permission.”

  The sprite fluttered over the fruit bowl. “You must be present for the ceremony, Gatekeeper.”

  I sank my teeth into the apple and chewed. “Didn’t you see how the Sidhe reacted to me yesterday? I betrayed them when I claimed the Erlking’s talisman and then lied to them about it. They will never forgive me.”

  “You must be present,” he repeated. “The Erlking requested the Gatekeeper participate in the process of selecting his successor.”

  Of course he bloody well did. But he didn’t predict that I’d claim his talisman, did he?

  “Tell you what,” I said. “You wait for me there. Tell the Sidhe I’m coming, so they don’t set up an ambush, okay?”

  “I will do as you wish, Gatekeeper.” The sprite flew from the room, while I finished my apple and grabbed a slice of toast from the plate which had materialised on the coffee table.

  “I’m guessing the Erlking didn’t know you’d be in disgrace when he gave the sprite orders,” said Ilsa.

  “There were a lot of thing
s he didn’t know.” I kept my voice low in case Swift could hear me from outside the room. “He overestimated how much the other Sidhe liked me, too.”

  “You’re not wrong.” Ilsa yawned, helping herself to a piece of toast. “Dad texted you earlier, by the way.”

  I picked my phone up from the coffee table. I never bothered to take it to Faerie, for obvious reasons, and often went without a signal for days even at home.

  Dad’s message said, how’s life?

  “He doesn’t expect me to actually tell him what’s going on in Faerie, does he?” I composed a generic reply, wishing I could have a normal human’s level of blissful ignorance of the drama in the Courts.

  “Not if you don’t want to traumatise him for life.” Ilsa stood. “I’m going to shower.”

  “I’m going to purgatory.” I finished my toast and swiped the remains of Ilsa’s, then consulted the sprite’s list of the next potential rulers of Summer. Lady Aiten wasn’t on the list, and nor was Lord Raivan. Nor, to my relief, was Lord Niall. I’d probably met most of the contenders at some point or other, but I was in no way qualified to help judge who would succeed the Erlking.

  In fairness, the Erlking himself hadn’t done much actual ruling. That had been up to his council—and at one point, the Seelie Queen—while he’d hidden away in his clearing, pretending to be on his deathbed.

  As I walked out the front door, I nearly collided with Swift coming the other way. “Gatekeeper, you must come! There’s trouble!”

  Oh, boy. I gripped the staff and walked towards the gate, wrenching it open to the sound of guttural screaming. Beside the gate lay the entrance to the ambassadors’ palace—the Sidhe had at least moved it as I’d requested—and dark shapes flitted behind the hedges surrounding the palace. Sluagh.

  Partly spirit and partly corporeal, sluagh could give even the Sidhe a run for their money, but my talisman made their shadowy forms look dim and wispy. As I walked between the twin leafy plants flanking the entrance, shadows extended from the staff’s base, eagerly seeking their prey.

  The air rippled overhead as a sluagh descended on me, morphing into a humanoid creature wearing a tattered cloak. Tendrils of shadow lashed out from my hands, and the sluagh evaporated into grey mist.

  A second sluagh blasted me with icy energy from behind. The attack bounced off my magic-proofed shield, and I spun on the spot, talisman in hand. Shadows curled around the sluagh’s insubstantial form, eating away at the remnants of magic holding it together.

  As the last sluagh evaporated into wisps, the Sidhe watched me from inside the entrance hall, their expressions varying from hostility to anger. The talisman hummed in my hand as though sensing their fear and revelling in it, but I’d quietened the Devourer’s voice when I’d mastered the talisman’s magic for my own and I wasn’t about to get swept up in its lingering satisfaction at making the almighty Sidhe fear a pitiful human. It was the talisman they feared, not me, and for good reason.

  The Devourer might be gone along with its Ancient brethren, but the conscious remains of its magic sought only to unleash as much destruction as possible. Let’s just say we were motivationally at odds, to say the least, but we were also stuck with one another. Damn if that didn’t sum up my relationship with Faerie as a whole.

  “The sluagh are dead,” said Lady Aiten, striding into view. A glittering blade hung from her hand, while she wore armoured clothing like mine, as though she was going into the trials as a participant, not a spectator.

  “Where did they come from?” I asked. “Did someone try to sabotage the trials before they even started?”

  Lady Aiten’s gaze panned across the entrance hall, from its flower-encrusted ceiling to the intricate tapestries hanging from the walls. “Someone opened a doorway into the Vale here in the palace.”

  “Don’t look at me. I was at home.” I took in her suspicious expression, the way her gaze darted to the talisman in my hand. “Oh no, I am not doing this again.”

  What would it take for the Sidhe to believe I had no intention of using the talisman against them? My gaze caught on the Erlking’s sprite, who flew into the centre of the hall.

  “It is I who brought the Gatekeeper here,” Swift said. “She knew nothing of the attack until I told her. It is the truth. I swear it on my master’s name.”

  “The sluagh were sent to intercept the Erlking’s potential successors,” said a Sidhe male with warm brown skin and a waterfall of gleaming dark hair. “This is the Seelie Queen’s work.”

  “Exactly.” I nodded to Lady Aiten. “She was counting on nobody knowing who the heir is, and these trials have the potential to seriously mess up her plans to take the Erlking’s throne.”

  If she knew the testing would begin today, either she’d been in the Court herself or a spy had taken the news to her hideout in the Vale. Neither of those things boded well for the safe ascension of a new monarch.

  Lady Aiten’s mouth thinned. “We will proceed with the preparations for the arrival of the contestants. Gatekeeper, kindly stand beside the doors and keep watch for any more intruders.”

  I’m a security guard now? It beat being accused of crimes and thrown out of the Court, and besides, if the Seelie Queen showed her face, it’d be my pleasure to kick her headfirst out of the palace.

  I took up my position by the oak doors and peered outside. Judging by the grey light seeping across the lawn, the promised dawn had arrived, though it was anyone’s guess as to whether a night had preceded it. Within a few minutes, the doors opened, and a group of half-Sidhe entered. Among them, I caught sight of a familiar figure wearing a mottled cape around her shoulders.

  “Coral?” I said. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Looks like someone’s in need of a bodyguard again.” She eyed the talisman. “Though you weren’t doing a terrible job on your own.”

  “I didn’t volunteer for security duty, but here I am.” I rolled my eyes in Lady Aiten’s general direction. “Have you heard—”

  “There’s going to be a trial for the Erlking’s successor?” she said. “Of course I have. The Sidhe sent out invitations to every corner of the Court in search of the chosen few, then asked for volunteers to guard the palace.”

  “No wonder the Seelie Queen found out so fast.” I watched the half-Sidhe disperse throughout the room. “I was beginning to worry we had a spy in here again.”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out.” She took up a position on the other side of the oak doors. “Things are quiet on Half-Blood Territory. It’s always more exciting when you’re around.”

  “Probably because trouble tends to stalk my every move.”

  Coral had moved to live on Half-Blood Territory when I’d been booted out of Summer. The borderlands, which had previously been split between warring monarchs who distanced themselves from the main Courts, had faced some major changes during the months I’d been waiting to start my Gatekeeper’s trials, and were now one of the few places half-faeries could freely live without the Sidhe breathing down their necks. This very palace was supposed to be another such location, but it seemed the Sidhe had opted to borrow it for their trials.

  Swift flew over to me, his wings beating. “We must be careful. The Vale folk are cunning, and the sluagh will be the least of the intrusions we might expect.”

  “I figured,” I said. “Ah—this is Coral, the heir to the Sea Court. Coral, this is Swift, the Erlking’s sprite.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, so that’s how all this started. I was picturing the Sidhe finding a random document of the Erlking’s buried somewhere in his territory.”

  “Not quite,” I said. “Swift is the only person who had access to the list of nominees. Though it sounds like the whole Court knows now, and probably Winter, too.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Coral. “It’s hard to keep this type of thing quiet.”

  “Gatekeeper.” Lady Aiten strode over to me. “Come this way.”

  With an apologetic look at Coral, I walked with Lady
Aiten to an alcove between two carved statues of a unicorn and a gryphon. Lord Raivan waited there, an antlered hat atop his silvery blond hair. Like Lady Aiten, he wore a green armoured outfit edged in gold, as though he’d come to declare war, not witness the choosing of the next monarch.

  “Gatekeeper,” he said, his lip curling on the word as though pronouncing the name of an unpleasant creature.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Lady Aiten’s gaze lingered on the staff resting on the ground at my feet. “It is my expectation that the Seelie Queen will attempt to undermine the trials again, and she will not be deterred by any weapon that we possess.”

  “So you want me to use the talisman to make sure nobody interferes with the trials,” I concluded. “Really?”

  “It is… unfortunate.” Lady Aiten wore an expression as though she was sucking on a lemon. “The Erlking’s talisman is better equipped to deal with the Vale’s threats than most, and if the trials are to proceed without further interference, we will need it.”

  Damn. They wanted me to use the talisman? They must be desperate. Lord Raivan didn’t look too thrilled at the prospect, but then again, he never did.

  “I will,” I said, “if you reinstate my position as Gatekeeper and swear that neither I nor any of my family members will be punished as a result of me wielding the talisman. I told the truth when I said I didn’t want to claim it, but you must know the cost of giving up one’s magic.”

  The green glow in her eyes brightened, a reminder of the restrained danger hidden behind her polite words. “Until the trials are finished and a new monarch is chosen, you may continue to wield the talisman in defence of our Court. Afterwards, you will surrender it to the Sidhe of Summer. Those are my terms, and you will agree to them if you wish for us to honour our word.”