by May Dawson
“As if I need permission.” Alisa materialized behind the servant, then pushed her way in. “To see my friends in the autumn court.”
She flashed a smile his way. It was an entirely different smile than her charming ones at the table. She wore a quilted black tunic and a crown in her short hair, her hands shoved in her pockets, and she radiated fierce confidence. But then, she possessed that same fearlessness and certainty in any form she took.
“Of course,” my father stumbled. He’d been fooled, and I felt a rise of pride in Alisa. Was there nothing she couldn’t do? “What brings you here, your highness?”
“I had to speak with you,” she said. “Herrick needs your help.”
My father’s unlined face under his thick chestnut-colored hair showed no emotion, but there were the faintest signs of tension around his mouth and eyes.
“May I ask why?”
“Of course,” she said. She drew off her gloves and stuffed them into her pocket. “But allow me to begin at the beginning.”
“Please take a seat.” My father glanced at me, as if he was debating sending me out.
“He can stay,” Alisa said magnaminously.
“Are you two friends at school?” My father sat in front of the fire, his posture stiff.
Herrick had a tendency to bury people who displeased him, and the fact that Faer had come to visit certainly didn’t bode well in my father’s eyes. Or perhaps my father was simply so unimportant that Herrick didn’t need to bother with him personally. Doubtless my father was running through a thousand scenarios right now, and he hoped that Faer and I might have a relationship that helped protect him.
He poured a glass of wine and held it out. Alisa took it, her legs spread, her body somehow taking up more space. I really could believe she was someone else, and I had to look closely at her face, seeking the small details that distinguished her from her twin.
Like that ever-present spark of mischief in her gaze.
“Not exactly,” Alisa said.
My father flashed me the briefest look of disappointment, although he couldn’t summon much surprise. As even Alisa reminded me, Azrael was the charming brother.
I leaned my shoulder against the wall by the fireplace, half-hidden by the shadows and my father’s chair, and watched the firelight reflect off her face. She seemed to glow, but then, she always did.
“My father is dying,” she said bluntly. “Herrick has the wasting disease. He’s trying to prepare for a smooth transfer of power.”
“I am so sorry to hear that—”
“No, you aren’t,” Alisa interrupted. My father’s eyes widened in shock, but she continued, “Summer and Autumn have long had an uneasy alliance, and I know that you only swore allegiance to my father as High King out of desperation. To be honest, outside of Herrick’s earshot, I believe the Summer court has wronged you.”
My father hesitated.
“I don’t need you to agree,” Alisa said, holding up her hands. “I know your sons would consider rebelling when the crown leaves your head, and Herrick—well, Herrick sent me, but Herrick knows his own flame is ebbing.”
“He wants to make sure the alliance will continue,” my father offered.
“Exactly,” Alisa said. “He’s long concealed how bad things are, but you’ve met with him—perhaps you’ve noticed the signs.”
My father nodded. “The pallor. His lack of energy. His…irritable state.”
“Yes,” Alisa said, and I stared at her, wondering if she were making up this story or it were true that her father was dying. How did she feel about it? She was cool as ever, the perfect psychopath that my father would expect a prince to be. But I knew how much passion burned under that light-hearted surface, no matter how selective she was, carefully deciding who saw her true self.
“No one else knows,” Alisa cautioned him, and my father’s satisfaction was a flicker on his face. “We all know the winter court is fomenting rebellion and Turic’s allegiance in spring is… fickle at best… as is his hold on his own court.”
“Turic is always fickle,” my father agreed.
“Everything will shift when my father dies,” Alisa said. “Turic will knife anyone in the back—even his own flesh and blood—“
“Maybe especially them,” my father put in, and Alisa favored him with a smile.
She nodded. “Indeed. All he cares about is getting the Delphine to recognize him as the heir. If he swears allegiance to me, in my father’s place, then he and I both are bound by the magic. But I thought perhaps it would be best not to have his loyalty.”
My father leaned forward, his elbow on the arm of his chair. The reflection of the flames cast half his face in shadow, making him look maniacal. “Oh?”
One syllable could be so laden with ambition and darkness.
“Turic has little to offer us,” she said, “and the Autumn court has much.”
“Are you suggesting we should align…” my father trailed off.
“I know I can’t hold the High throne alone,” Alisa said. “Not without someone backing me. And I need free passage through Autumn lands to fully defeat the Winter court. And you, I believe, have always desired that same slice of Spring territory that your great-grandfather once claimed.”
My father nodded slowly.
“Swear your loyalty to me, now, and put Herrick’s mind at ease,” Alisa said. “We’ll both be bound by the magic. If I become High King when Herrick dies, I swear to do my duty as your sovereign and give that slice of spring as your reward.”
Those words were clear—unusually so for a Fae oath—and my father’s greed was written clearly across his face.
But then, Alisa would never be High King, even if she took the High throne one day. I turned to stare into the fire. What would she do once she’d tricked my father into swearing his loyalty to her?
Should I stop her?
Dare I trust her more than my own father?
The memory of Zora’s tired, pale face rose in my memory.
As I hesitated, my father slid to his knees in front of Alisa in her chair. “I swear my allegiance to you as the true ruler of the four kingdoms.”
Alisa smiled, a smile so wicked and bright.
“Good,” she said, and rose to her feet. “The time will come when your loyalty will be tested, Edric. But for now, a simple test of your obedience.”
My father, still on his knees, stared up at her with a frown written across his face; he’d known there’d be some kind of devil’s bargain. It always was with Herrick and his heirs.
She held her hands out to help him up, and reluctantly, my father took her hands, climbing to his feet. He towered over her, not that it mattered. As fierce a fighter as she was, her true power was not in that slight frame of hers.
“You’ll leave Zora’s training to be a knight entirely in her brothers’ hands, and you will not guide her tutors or inflict any punishment on her,” Alisa said. “Azrael and Duncan might not exactly be something so simple as my friends, but I have come to trust their judgment. I was not pleased with what I saw of her training, and one day I might need all three of your children to be useful to me. I intend to have their loyalty—with or without magic binding them.”
He frowned, then wrenched his hands out of hers. He took a step back, slamming into the chair behind him. “You weren’t here earlier today.”
She was still watching him, with a gleam in her eyes and a faint smile on her lips.
“Faer?” he asked.
“An understandable mistake on your servant’s part,” she chided, “And on yours. You won’t punish the servant for it, given that you made the same one.”
“Alisa,” he said, his voice a whisper, and her smile widened.
He turned on me, horror written across his face. “Duncan—did you know—?”
“You swore an oath to me of obedience and loyalty,” Alisa reminded him, drawing his attention back to her. “As the true ruler of the four kingdoms. Best that news never reaches
Herrick, isn’t it?”
“Is he really—”
“Dying? Yes.” She stepped in toward him and patted his cheek with her hand, even though she had to reach up to do it. My father’s body was taut as a bow string, but he let her. “You’ll be safe under my protection as the true ruler of the four kingdoms before you know it. For now, you and I and Duncan share a secret that won’t leave this room.”
“You tricked me.”
“It is our nature,” she said, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I believe we’ve all reached an understanding.”
She bowed her head without ever looking my way. Then she was gone, slipping through the shadows.
My father turned to me. “Was she—was she—”
He abruptly broke off and fled the room.
I was left alone in front of the fire. I sipped my wine and wondered if I’d made a terrible mistake.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alisa
Present Day
I was sitting across from Raile at the table, both of us yawning as we thumbed through the books, when a knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Raile called.
A Fae with two long, wobbling antennas rising from her narrow face entered the room and bowed, although the movement was cursory. She raised one hand to tick things off on her fingers. “Word returned. Duncan is confirmed to be in: one, fine health, two, a terrible mood, and three, the dungeon at Alisa’s castle.”
“Thank you for the report,” Raile said, and then to me, added, “That’s about the best we could have hoped for.”
“We can’t leave Duncan in the dungeon.”
“Can’t we, though?” He flipped another page, then added, “He’s been very unpleasant to you.”
“He’s very unpleasant to everyone, but he doesn’t deserve to be in a dungeon.”
Raile shrugged flippantly. “Agree to disagree.”
“We have to help him,” I said firmly.
Raile finally looked up at me, exasperation written across his face. “And I’m happy to… well, not happy. But somewhat willing. To help you with a rescue attempt, once you can defeat the Shadow Man. You’re not going to rescue Duncan and get yourself killed. He wouldn’t want that either.”
His tone was so confident of himself, so bossy, that I stared at him in shock for a moment. He didn’t even seem to notice; his eyes returned to sweeping back and forth across the page, then he turned the next. “I can feel you staring at me as if you’re trying to boil me alive. I don’t think that’s a perk of your summer magic, is it?”
“Don’t boss me,” I warned him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Seems highly futile.” He glanced up and flashed me a smile across the books. “However, I do have you trapped in my underwater palace and you don’t know how to breathe underwater, so…”
He shrugged, then went back to his reading.
You don’t know how. So there was a way that I could breathe underwater. I just had to find it. I shelved that thought for now, and said, “You told me you’d tell me a story.”
He glanced up at me, then closed the book with a thump. “We’re both exhausted, aren’t we?”
“It seems like a good time for supper and a story,” I prompted. My stomach promptly growled to punctuate the thought. Apparently, it was loud enough for him to hear, from the rueful look that crossed his face.
“I’m not a very good host,” he admitted.
I stared at him in surprised disbelief; it was the first time I’d heard him sound modest about anything. “You’re not a host at all. You’re more of a kidnapper.”
“I have good intentions.”
“No one believes a kidnapper when they say that.”
He sighed. “I’ll have dinner prepared in my quarters.”
“Lovely.” I flashed him a smile, and he gave me a look that was appropriately suspicious. Right; I couldn’t be nice to Raile without raising some well-deserved suspicion.
While he was gone, speaking with whatever googly-eyed servant he’d found in the hall, I moved quickly to the books and began to search the titles. There had to be one about the kind of sea magic that would give me gills.
I imagined myself with gills fluttering from my sides, and shuddered. Temporary gills. That part was important.
I found a book about protocol among Four Kingdoms royalty and plucked it from the shelf, although it was hard for me to believe Azrael had left any incredibly-boring stone unturned in our tutoring session. Then a bit further along, I found one on sea court magic. I flipped it open quickly, searching down the table of contents for breathing spells. The Sea court had brought mortals down here before as servants in darker times; surely there was a way.
He’d said as much; hell, maybe I’d been down here with him before, and maybe I’d been able to breathe underwater then.
The thought bothered me, honestly. I tried to imagine it, to grasp a memory that seemed to float just out of reach, but all I kept remembering was the ghost’s grinning face in front of me, the children throwing themselves at him, the water filling my lungs as I struggled…
I shook it off. The memory was in the past, and I didn’t have to live in it. I could breathe and let it slip away.
The door swung open. My heart beat a little faster as Raile walked in, but I pulled another book at random from the shelf to sandwich my magic book, and carried the armful toward him. If I explained what I was doing to him, I’d look suspicious, so I ignored the way he eyeballed me, as if he expected me to be up to some mischief.
“I’m exhausted,” I said, plunking the whole set down on the table. “But I don’t want to leave Duncan alone.”
“Such loyalty,” he said.
“He’ll do anything for me except say nice things,” I said, but that made me think of the way he’d said I was always the smartest person in the room, and that made me smile to myself.
Duncan was a miserable lump, but he was a good friend, too. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be my friend yet, but sooner or later, I was sure I’d win him over. He’d loved me once.
Raile was watching me hard, as if he’d seen me smile, and some emotion flared in those sea-colored eyes.
The light from above had gone dark; it was night time somewhere above the sea. But there were railings that wrapped around the overhang for all the floors of the library above, and they were wrapped with glowing luminescent coral. It was so beautiful it took my breath away—in a far more pleasant way than my memories of slamming my palms against the windows of that car.
“Dinner,” he said, and offered me his arm.
“We’re not at court anymore.”
“We’re at court. My court,” he corrected. “I thought we could have dinner privately tonight but tomorrow, when you’re more rested… if we haven’t found a sure way to beat the Shadow Man yet… I’d like you to meet my court.”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” I said, and meant it; I should have thought about the Sea court being just as important to Raile as my court was to me or the Autumn court was to Azrael and Duncan. “I hope we’ll be gone, but… sure.”
Raile brought me into his quarters, where floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on the sea world spread outside. It was so gorgeous I couldn’t tear my eyes away, so I didn’t look at him as he went to the table and began to rattle around the dishes, removing covers and eying the food as if he was making sure it was good enough.
“I thought you could breathe underwater,” I said.
“Either way. Not all Sea fae can breathe air, but I’m....” he smiled at me as if he found the words ridiculous, “Special.”
“Mm. Is that what your parents told you?”
His lips turned up at one corner. “No, that’s definitely not what they told me. Are you going to come eat before dinner turns cold?”
I joined him at the table and slid into the seat opposite him. The table was set with summer roses and crowded with a lavish number of dishes. The scent was heavenly, and I quickly
dug into the meal.
“Tell me about your family,” I suggested. “You know all about mine. A festival of dysfunction.”
He smiled slightly. “Yes, I’m familiar with the phenomenon. You asked for a story about the rifts and how I came to control them so easily?”
“You’re changing the subject,” I said, “but I’ll allow it.”
“Generous of you. Well, the rifts open under the waves too. We get all kinds of fun sea monsters swimming into my territory.” He considered for a second, then added, “I’m not anti-sea monster.”
“Somehow I didn’t think you would be.”
“But these are not native Fae sea monsters. They eat my sea monsters. They eat mermaids.” He chewed a bite of food thoughtfully, then added, “Not that I entirely mind about the mermaids.”
“What is it with you and the mermaids?”
“You’ll understand when you meet them.”
“Will I have to breathe underwater to meet them?”
“Not with my magic,” he promised, and I made sure not to show my disappointment.
“Do you have human servants?”
His brows widened. “No, I do not have human servants. Do you take me for a monster?”
Before I could offer any thoughts, he added, “Don’t answer that.”
“I just wondered. So how did you become such an expert at opening portals? I would think you’d spend most of your time closing them.”
“I have to get the sea monsters back through them,” he said. “So I’ve become quite adept at opening them.”
He made it sound as if it were just a matter of practice. He must have an awful lot of power to open portals as easily as he had on that ship.
“Why not just kill them?”
He tilted a brow at me. “You and I have very different life philosophies.”
“Yeah, I think that’s probably safe to say.” I thought for a second, then asked, “Could I borrow some clothes?” I plucked the front of my shirt. “This outfit has been through a bit. Dungeons and horseback riding and plunging into the undersea, etcetera.”
