The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy

by Emma L. Adams

  He arched a brow. “Because of the faeries? I’d have thought you’d dislike it for that exact reason.”

  “Nah, Ilsa and I were cast as Hermia and Helena in the school play, which meant we got to wrestle one another on the stage.” I grinned. “Lord, what fools these mortals be! I reckon the Bard must have met some of the Sidhe, personally. Titania reminds me of a certain Queen. And Oberon…”

  “Oberon was the Erlking’s name.”

  “How the bloody hell do you know that?” Even the Gatekeepers were hard-pressed to access information on the Sidhe’s real names, as I’d found out when Mum had attempted to compile the Erlking’s family tree.

  “I inferred it from when Etaina spoke of the talisman’s previous owner,” he said. “Oberon’s staff.”

  “Hmm.” My mood sobered. “The assassin wouldn’t admit Etaina was the one who sent him here.”

  Darkness flashed across his face. “We know it was her. She had two goals: remove the talisman and destroy the Seelie Queen’s accomplices.”

  “They didn’t even need to kill me.” Not with the markings she’d given them, anyway. Invocations. Since when could the gods’ language bestow powers on Sidhe? If they spoke a word aloud, its meaning became literal, but while the gods’ symbols were frequently carved into talismans and other objects of power, I hadn’t known the words themselves held hidden magic.

  I kept on eye on Darrow as we walked in case another sneaky assassin tried to take his place. My own reaction unsettled the hell out of me. If the assassin had pretended to be my sister, I’d have punched him in the nuts for it, but that the Aes Sidhe had used my attraction to Darrow against me made me furious for a whole other set of reasons. Not least of which was the fact that they knew I was attracted to him at all. Which meant Etaina must know. Like all Sidhe, little escaped her attention.

  The resonant sound of a bell echoed through the forest. “Was that the end of the challenge?”

  We only had the one token between us. We weren’t going to win this challenge—not both of us, anyway.

  The forest began to warp and spin around us, the trees merging, the giant toadstools folding back and then vanishing. I kept my eyes on Darrow to make the dizziness less intense. “What are we supposed to do? We have one token.”

  The honourable thing to do was to take the token for my own and let Darrow walk away free without the Sidhe believing him an interloper who wanted to steal their throne.

  Except if those Aes Sidhe assassins had been out to kill him—if he truly had lost his place among their Court—then if he dropped out of the race, there was nothing stopping Etaina taking him back, and not letting him go this time.

  My gut tightened. I held out the token. “Take it.”

  “I’m not from Summer,” he said. “I have more of a claim on Winter’s throne, even, because my Winter ancestor was at least from their Court.”

  “I have zero,” I reminded him. “On account of me being an annoying human who keeps messing up their plans. You need the protection of the trials, I don’t.”

  “I beg to differ,” he said. “The trials didn’t stop the enemy from coming after us. Besides, if anything, one token won’t be enough for either of us.”

  The remains of the forest vanished, leaving us on the lawn behind the palace. The other participants stood around us, some holding tokens, some not. Others, like the bodies of the two dead Sidhe—the one who’d been hidden in the bushes and the one who’d been beside the troll—lay unmoving on the grass.

  Among the living Sidhe, the Sidhe with blue-black hair and the feathered armour held the most tokens, at least four or five of them. I never did thank him for his help, though hell if I knew why he’d given it. Maybe he figured I’d owe him a favour later down the line.

  “Those of you with less than two tokens are disqualified,” Lady Aiten said. “You are to head back into the palace while I speak with the winners.”

  Disappointment spiked, swiftly followed by relief. “We’re out, then.”

  Darrow and I joined the other losers and walked back into the palace. For once, I didn’t mind the stares, because it brought a decisive end to my participation in the Erlking’s trials. I was more than happy to leave the contesting up to the Sidhe and focus on the more important matter of keeping the Court safe from its enemies.

  More importantly, no traces of the assassins had followed us back. Darrow’s secret was safe… for now.

  9

  Darrow and I walked through the entrance hall of the palace, leaving the rest of the Sidhe to celebrate their victory alone.

  “What’re you going to do?” He held the front doors open to let me pass through.

  “Now?” I said. “I planned to go home, clean up, and build an effigy of that face-stealing dickhead to set on fire. If my sister’s there, I’ll ask her about those symbols, too.”

  “You’re planning to tell your family about the assassins?” he asked.

  “Of course I am,” I said. “I told them pretty much everything else. They already know Etaina has my name on her hit list.”

  His eyes widened. “You told your whole family about my Court?”

  “Uh… yes?” I frowned. “Even if I hadn’t, they’d want to know if assassins are after me. Especially as my enemies make an annoying habit of targeting them, too. Look at Lord Daival and the Seelie Queen.”

  Had he really assumed I wouldn’t confide in the people I was closest to? I supposed he wouldn’t, not if he didn’t have anyone with whom he shared everything. He hadn’t grown up close to anyone. Except…

  The image of the girl I’d seen in his memories came to mind. Reyna. He’d loved her, I was sure, and my heart ached not with jealousy but with sadness. Despite my exhaustion and emotional upheaval, I didn’t want to leave him alone in Faerie. If he was attacked by assassins, he wouldn’t be able to dispose of their bodies without my talisman, which would expose his Court to Summer and leave him to deal with the fallout.

  At least that’s what I told myself when I said, “Come back with me and I’ll introduce you to my family.”

  “I’ve met your family,” he said.

  And… he still wasn’t getting it. “The Aes Sidhe assassins targeted you as well as me. The Seelie Queen might want revenge on you for interfering in her plans. The Lynn house isn’t theoretically safer than the palace, but I’d rest easier knowing they weren’t trying to slit your throat in your sleep.”

  “You think me so easily overcome?” he said. “You’re forgetting Etaina taught me the same tricks as her elite assassins. I know how they operate.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said. “But I don’t like knowing you could turn into one of those freakish assassins at any given time. Can you teach me to tell the difference? Another glamour lesson, just for old time’s sake?”

  His mouth lifted at the corner as the implication seemed to finally sink in. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Mine, too. Just as long as Mum doesn’t ambush us in the garden and spring the sex talk on us.

  I found myself watching Darrow’s movements closely as we walked to the gates to the Lynn house. As much as I’d have taken any excuse to get him out of the Court, the end of the test didn’t mean Etaina’s assassins would give up, and for all I knew, they were lurking elsewhere in Faerie. Yet from the way they’d acted in the test, they hadn’t wanted to rig the results. Their orders were clear: kill me and take the talisman.

  I opened the gate and led Darrow into the grounds to the Lynn house, some of the tension easing out of me at the sight of the familiar bright lawns and ivy-cloaked house. It was daytime here, though later than ideal, and the sun had begun its descent over the trees beyond the gate.

  “Do you want to start the lesson right away?” asked Darrow.

  “Better see who’s in first.” A hammering noise from the shed answered that question. “Mum’s gonna be in there for a while, but I’ll check if Ilsa’s around. She’s still working on that damned family tree. Hell if I know why. She alrea
dy has a full-time job and a PhD application to contend with, but she’s always been the overachiever of the family.”

  I led the way to the back door and unlocked it. “You’ve already seen my house… in the dark, anyway. The night we met.”

  “I remember.” He entered the kitchen behind me, eyeing the shiny appliances. “This is all created by the Summer Court’s magic?”

  “You’ve got it. No idea what used to be here before Faerie’s magic created the house. I’ve never asked.” I walked through the kitchen and out into the hall, peering through the open door into the living room. Nobody was in there, but the remnants of the Erlking’s family tree lay strewn around the tables.

  Darrow, however, was more interested in the portraits in the hall. His gaze paused at the crayoned drawing Ilsa had pinned to the blank stretch of wall at the end. “Is that supposed to be you? Riding… a unicorn?”

  “My sister drew it when we were kids,” I said. “My actual portrait is meant to hang there after I retire as Gatekeeper, assuming I live that long.”

  “And there’s your mother,” he noted, his gaze skimming along the line of portraits. “Does every family member have their own portrait?”

  “Nah, just the Summer Gatekeepers,” I said. “We’re the only ones who get fancy portraits. Tradition. And the lack of wall space.”

  Darrow studied the end portrait, a man with dark hair and brown eyes. “Who is he?”

  “Thomas Lynn.” I peeled off the fake moustache Morgan had stuck on his face. “The man who started this madness.”

  “He doesn’t look much like you,” he observed.

  I shrugged. “He vanished after his twin daughters were taken into Faerie, so nobody has an accurate picture of him. Even his grave’s empty. I’d offer to take you to see it, but the sun’s going down. We should get on with our lesson, unless you’d prefer it to take place in the dark.”

  “No…” His gaze travelled over Thomas Lynn’s portrait, a frown puckering his brow. “No, we’ll do it now.”

  I went out via the front door, circling the house to find a clear spot on the lawn, and stood facing him. His aquamarine eyes shimmered with magic, and shame tightened my chest for falling for that clone’s absurd trick. I jerked my gaze away. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “How do you want to do this?” he asked. “Do you want me to use glamour and ask you to pick out which is the real me?”

  I drew in a breath. “Okay. I’ll turn my back. I won’t cheat.”

  Two more Darrows appeared, each identical to him. My gaze panned from one to another, looking for clues to tell them apart, but only keeping the one on the left in the corner of my eye allowed me to remember it was really him.

  “Can you make them talk?” I asked.

  “Yes,” the three Darrows chorused.

  “And hold a conversation?” I laid the staff down, wanting to do this without the talisman’s magic interfering.

  “To an extent,” said the Darrow on the left.

  “But it requires concentration,” added the middle one.

  “And if the caster becomes distracted, they lose their grip,” the third put in.

  “So it is like necromancy,” I observed. “Except instead of piloting dead bodies, you’re controlling pieces of yourself.”

  “Not exactly,” said the left Darrow. “I’m not tied to the clones, but they’re tied to me.”

  “We’re independent of one another,” added the middle guy. “We can walk around and do whatever we like.”

  “But if we’re killed, we disappear,” the third finished. “The real person doesn’t, for obvious reasons.”

  “If I use iron, you disappear, too,” I said. “I guess that’s one way of handling it. If I’m not in the trials, it shouldn’t matter if I’m carrying an iron knife or not.”

  “No, it shouldn’t, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t use iron on me,” said the real Darrow.

  “Don’t worry.” A mischievous smile tugged my mouth. “I like you in one piece. Even if your clones do look freakishly alike. I’m gonna turn around. When I do, feel free to rearrange your clones or otherwise try to confuse me. Then I’ll see if I can tell the difference.”

  I rotated on the spot, counted down from twenty, then turned around again. No fewer than seven Darrows fanned out across the lawn, all identical down to the last detail. Silver hair, aquamarine eyes, angular features. Even the smears of blood on their clothing matched. It was uncanny.

  “Where’d you learn how to do this?” I scrutinised the first Darrow, who didn’t move. “Did you spend hours in front of the mirror learning to create a double of yourself?”

  “No,” said the first Darrow.

  “I practised on animals at first,” added the second.

  “Uh-huh.” Attempting to tell one Darrow from another based on physical appearance alone was an impossibility, and while I might joke about using iron, the last thing I wanted was to cause pain to the real Darrow. “Like the squirrel you vanished during our first glamour lesson.”

  “And the horse,” said the third Darrow. “I didn’t see a horse until I was sixteen.”

  “Right, you didn’t set foot aboveground until the meadow.”

  A sharp exhale from my right drew my attention to the fifth Darrow along. “What meadow?”

  “Aha.” I pointed. “That’s the real you.”

  He frowned. “What do you know about the meadow?”

  “Nothing.” I wished I hadn’t brought it up—but apparently, the trick to finding the real Darrow was to bring up random childhood memories. “I saw it in one of the memory-eater’s tricks. I gathered it was your first time leaving the realm of the Aes Sidhe.”

  “Yes, it was.” His voice was quiet, his eyes layered with emotion, which made it easy to identify him as the real Darrow.

  “You saw some of my past, too, didn’t you?” I asked. “Which memories?”

  “The day you woke as Gatekeeper,” he said. “A lot of memories of you getting into fights at school, arguing with your siblings, conjuring up an illusion of a vehicle…”

  “Which vanished when I tried to drive it,” I added.

  “I know it did.” His mouth twitched. “I don’t recall seeing a single memory where you remotely acted as you were supposed to.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so surprised.” Closing the inches between us, I rested my hands on his shoulders, tilting my head to meet his eyes. “I reckon I have more incriminating things in my history than you do. You didn’t see the strip poker incident, did you?”

  A spark grew in his eyes. “I take it you were the one stripping?”

  “I lost a bet with a goblin.” I let my hands fan through the silky strands of his hair and forgot about the clones surrounding him. I only had eyes for the real deal; the grim set of his mouth and the stormy currents in his eyes, both of which I wanted to kiss away, to draw him into me until he forgot all about the chains that bound both of us.

  My lips touched his, then I kissed him harder, winding my hands into his hair. His hands came around my waist, pulling me tight against him. My skin burned white-hot under his touch, and I moaned against his mouth. Lifting me off my feet, he laid me down on the lawn without breaking off the kiss. Grass tickled my bare skin, and his gleaming eyes made the stars in the darkening sky look dim. My core tightened with need as he lay astride me, his legs on either side of my body.

  Breathing heavily, I became aware of the silence hovering over the lawn. The noise of Mum hammering on the target had ceased.

  “What is it?” he said, noting my pause.

  “I think,” I said, “my mother has realised we’re here and is waiting to ambush me with another lecture.”

  He pushed to his knees. “Another lecture?”

  I lifted my head. “About the Gatekeeper’s curse and why dating faeries is a big no-no.”

  “I don’t believe you ever explained,” he said. “Why does the curse forbid you from romantically associating with the fae? I assume it isn�
�t because we’re mercurial and untrustworthy.”

  Ah, crap. I pulled my body into a sitting position. “It’s the Courts’ age-old rivalry again. Essentially, they don’t want a half-faerie Gatekeeper because it’d upset the power balance between Summer and Winter. Somehow that morphed into a rule telling Gatekeepers not to get romantically involved with the Sidhe, as if that’s somehow going to stop us from fornicating with them. It’s not a literal part of the vow, and they don’t care what we do when we’re not in the Courts, besides.”

  Darrow climbed to his feet. “A half-faerie Gatekeeper? Will one of your children be the next Gatekeeper?”

  “That’s how the curse works,” I said. “It picks someone from each generation. Might be my siblings’ kids, might be mine. Holly has it even worse than I do, because she’s an only child and there aren’t any surviving Winter Lynns aside from her.”

  He looked stricken. “So if you have children at any point—”

  “I already told you nobody volunteered for this,” I interjected. “I meant what I said—I’m intending to break the curse as soon as there’s a new monarch on the throne and the Sidhe stop trying to kill me and each other.”

  “And if not?” His voice was clipped, tense. “What would happen if the curse found no target?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The curse wasn’t supposed to end up like this. It’s only because Thomas Lynn was mortal and the Sidhe didn’t take that into account when they cast their spell. Once the curse was enacted on him, that was it. There’s always a Gatekeeper. But it doesn’t change anything between us.”

  His jaw clenched and unclenched. “Hazel, I can’t take the risk of starting a relationship with you for a multitude of reasons. This curse of yours is only the latest of them.”

  My heart sank in my chest. “You mean because Etaina wants me dead. You do realise that if it turns out she does know you’ve defected, we’ll both be in equal danger from her assassins, right?”

  “That doesn’t make it worth the risk,” he said. “That curse of yours is the most complex I’ve seen. There’s no telling what it might do if we become closer than we already are.”