by Anthea Sharp
Going on sheer instinct, she concentrated with every cell in her body, opened her mouth, and sang a high, clear note. The breath spun from her, moonlit and full, holding the note, expanding it. The stones around them began to hum, strands of light waking within the dark rock. Something settled in her outstretched palms—something long and silver and ancient.
The Blade of the Elder Fey.
“No,” the queen whispered. For the first time, Jennet saw fear cross her perfect, deadly features. “Do not—”
“Too late.” Jennet pulled the blade free.
It was thin, elegant, and utterly lethal. The moment it cleared the scabbard it began to vibrate, quivering like a wild thing yearning to be unleashed. Jennet wrapped both hands around the pommel, feeling the blade shivering against her bones.
“Fair Jennet, foolish mortal.” The king’s voice was laden with sorrow. “You have spelled our doom.”
“Not yet,” the queen snapped. “Are you a lapdog, that you lie down at the merest hint of their power?” She whirled to the huntsman. “Bring the boy. Now!”
Her voice burned the air with bitter frost. The horned figure strode forward, a head taller than Zeg. He set black-clawed hands on Zeg’s shoulders and pushed him, still holding Tam’s brother, to the center stone.
“Brother, is your weapon at the ready?” the queen hissed.
The king nodded.
Jennet glanced wildly between them, the blade in her hands throbbing with power. She must strike, and now—but which one?
“Jennet,” Tam said, his voice tight. “Take her.”
“Oh no, earthly knight.”
The queen had returned to Tam’s side. She grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. In her other hand she held a wickedly sharp black dagger, curved like a thorn. Or maybe it was a thorn, from the darkest tree that ever grew.
“Fair Jennet,” the queen said, “harm me, and your champion dies.”
The king moved toward Jennet and she took a step back, raising the blade. It hummed eagerly in her hands.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“Then I shall take the boy.”
Quick as light, he snatched Tam’s little brother from Zeg’s arms. In his hand he held a long golden dagger, sharp as a needle.
“Bug!” Tam cried, anguished.
Jennet’s breath caught, jagged in her throat. Blood must be spilled to call the Elder Fey, she knew it with a certainty. But she could not attack either monarch without dire consequences.
She had only a heartbeat to act. Biting down hard on her lip, she took the sword and poised it over one arm. The blade trembled impatiently.
“Jennet, no!” Tam lunged for her, ripping free of the queen’s grasp. Her thorn grazed his neck, leaving a thin red line.
The razor-sharp edge of the Blade of the Elder Fey touched Jennet’s skin, cutting softly, tenderly, to the bone.
A second later pain shocked her senses, so fierce she fell to her knees. Her arm bled like a fountain. Tam snatched the blade from her hand, and she turned her face up to the sky—now twilight, now blazing through her tears—and screamed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
Tam whirled, the Blade of the Elder Fey shaking in his grip.
“Save her!” he cried.
He didn’t care who, only that someone had to.
Zeg had his hands up, weaving a glowing healing spell. The queen folded her arms, her gaze glittering like ice. The king held tightly to the Bug’s shoulder, and his brother whimpered in pain.
“Let him go,” Tam said.
“Our plans are in ruin,” the queen said. “Take revenge, brother, ere they arrive.”
The king raised his golden dagger. Tam leveled his blade at the king’s throat.
“Don’t,” he said.
Golden eyes, deep with centuries, regarded him. Unwavering, Tam held his gaze. Harm my brother, and I’ll kill you.
As if reading the thought, the king lifted his hand, and Tam’s brother ran to his side.
“Tam, Tam,” he said, scrubbing tears from his cheeks with a grubby hand. “I knew you’d come.”
“I’m here.”
Still pointing the blade at the king, Tam gathered his brother into a tight hug. He didn’t ever want to let go.
“Jennet?” he said.
He couldn’t bear to look, to see her lying on the grass, her heart’s blood spilled, her blue eyes staring sightless at the sky.
Zeg, face lit with green light, cast another spell. The stones surrounding them crackled and hummed, as if filled with electricity. A cold hot wind blew across the trampled grass.
The standing stones erupted in purple fire.
“They come,” the king said. His voice was weary. “Sister, we shall pay a heavy price for our bargain.”
“And what of our Realm?” She advanced upon him, dark hair whipping about her face. “Would you let us die, deprived of that which sustains us? I would live, brother!”
The air around them dimmed, growing harsh in Tam’s lungs. A deep drum throbbed through the air. No, not a drum. Wingbeats. He tipped his face up to see an enormous black shape descending from the sky.
“A dragon,” the Bug whispered.
It was a fearsome, incredible sight. Behind the black dragon came brighter motes of color—sapphire, ruby, amethyst, so bright Tam had to squint.
The king and queen stood their ground as the Elder Fey approached, but the other fey folk averted their gaze and huddled into whatever small shelter they could find. Still holding tight to his brother, Tam stepped back to where Jennet lay. Her blue dress was crumpled like a torn piece of sky. The deep slash in her arm still bled sluggishly, leaving an ugly smear on the green grass. She looked at him, her face pale as starlight, and tried to smile.
“I love you, Tam,” she said.
“Shh. Save your strength.”
Tears clogged his throat. He set his hand to her cheek, willing his life, his soul into her.
It should have been him. She should have turned the blade on him, not herself. Anyone but herself. Regret burned him to the heart.
“Jen.” Her dad stumbled to her side.
“Quick,” Tam said. “The talisman—take it off and put it on Jennet.”
“I don’t think…” Mr. Carter felt about his neck and chest, but there was no silver chain, no glowing talisman at the ready to save Jennet’s life. It had been used up.
Tam blinked furiously, trying to keep his vision clear.
Hands trembling, Jennet’s dad tore a strip off his orange robes and bound the wound, then tied a tourniquet further up her arm. She winced, but didn’t say anything.
Above them, the sky was dark, bright, black and bejeweled. The dragon’s wings pummeled the air around them.
Roy staggered over, his eyes deep hollows of anxiety. Zeg came and knelt at Jennet’s head.
“I stopped the worst of the bleeding,” he said. “I’ll keep trying.”
Tam nodded, trying not to watch the orange fabric around her arm darkening with blood.
Above them, the black dragon circled ever closer, its immense bulk bathed in eerie purple light. The Dark Queen and Bright King stood their ground, wreathed in the light of icy-blue frost, of golden fire.
Tam looked at the weary team, another dart of loss spearing through him as he counted them up.
“Where’s Spark?” he asked, afraid of the answer.
Puck joined them, his expression sober. He was riding the fox.
“She is here,” the sprite said.
“Where?” Tam glanced around them. No sign of the gamer girl. “We don’t have time for your jokes, Puck.”
“Wait,” Roy said. “She’s the fox, right?”
Of course. Kitsune.
“Stuck…” Jennet’s voice was a mere whisper.
“You’re saying she’s trapped as a fox?”
Jennet blinked in affirmation.
Tam finally let go of his brother. He set the Bla
de of the Elder Fey on the bloody grass and took the fox’s head between his hands. There was no sign of humanity in those wild amber eyes.
“Spark,” he said. “Spark, you in there?”
The fox wrenched her head away with a low growl.
“Let me,” Roy said.
He scooped the animal up and Puck leaped off with a yelp. Roy cradled the fox in his arms.
“Hey, babe,” he said. “You know I always wanted to hold you like this. How about a kiss?”
He brought his face close to the fox’s and Tam sucked in a breath. Roy was going to lose his nose. The fox bared her teeth, but Roy didn’t let go.
“Just one kiss, all right?”
A flash of light, and it was Spark in his arms.
“No way,” she said. “I oughta slap you.” She made no move to leave his embrace, though.
“Good to have you back,” Roy said.
She glanced up. “Just in time for the big show.”
The black dragon had come to hover above the circle of standing stones. It fixed its golden gaze on the king and queen.
*Monarchs of the fey. You have upset the balance.*
As before, the dragon’s voice was everywhere and nowhere. It scraped the back of Tam’s ears, echoed in his head.
“We had no choice!” The queen stared up, defiant. “Our Realm was shut off from the mortal world. We were dying, dying, while you slept, uncaring.”
*You have no right to meddle between the worlds.*
The sapphire dragon came to hover beside the black, tipping its head as if in speech. Tam felt a buzzing in the back of his skull. Slowly, the black dragon blinked. Its long tongue flicked out, forked like a snake’s, and touched the tip of one of the standing stones.
Purple light hissed and flared.
“You cannot consign our Realm to oblivion,” the king said.
*For your actions, we should. Yet there is truth in what you say. Your Realm is indeed weakened.*
“Then let us re-open a gate to the mortal world.” The Dark Queen’s dress swirled about her like smoke. She pointed to where Tam and the rest of the team huddled. “Look—the sacrifice still awaits.”
The black dragon turned its eerie, alien gaze upon the humans, and Tam held his breath.
*Enough blood has been shed.*
Tam got to his feet, struggling against the gritty air, and looked up at the dragon.
“Jennet is badly wounded,” he said, his voice catching. “Please heal her. I beg you.”
The leader of the Elder Fey regarded him, unblinking. Galaxies swirled in the depths of its eyes. At last it spoke.
*Take the Blade and lay it upon her wound.*
Tam lifted the thin silver blade. It woke in his hand, humming high and clear. Kneeling, he carefully tilted the flat of the blade toward Jennet’s arm. Her dad stripped the bloodied orange cloth away. Deep red gaped, and at the bottom Tam glimpsed the white of bone. He forced his hands steady and pressed the blade against that terrible gash.
“It’s working,” Roy said.
Beneath the blade, Jennet’s muscles were knitting together. Her skin closed, leaving a silver scar bisecting her forearm, and he pulled the blade away.
*Sheathe it, ere it hungers for blood again.*
Already, Tam felt the blade stirring. He glanced around for the silver scabbard. It lay where Jennet had discarded it, beside the flat stone in the center of the ring. Right between the king and queen.
*Quickly*
“Do it,” Jennet said, her voice weak. A hint of color was returning to her face. “That thing is deadly.”
“We got your back,” Roy said, rising and giving Spark a hand up.
Tam walked toward the slab of stone, air scraping his lungs. The Dark Queen watched him approach, her eyes pools of midnight.
“Tamlin,” she said, her voice full of mystery and promises. “There is still time. Become my Knight. It is not the first time a mortal has chosen to serve me.”
She beckoned, and Thomas stepped from the shadows, his guitar slung across his back.
Tam heard Jennet’s dad gasp.
“Bard Thomas, tell our bold knight what he will gain when he joins the Dark Court.”
“My lady.” Thomas sketched her a bow, then turned to Tam. “You will never return to the mortal world again—but the mysteries of the Realm will lie at your feet.”
“No,” Tam said.
It wasn’t a choice he was even interested in. He darted forward, snatched the scabbard, and in one smooth move slid the Blade of the Elder Fey home.
The queen set her hand to his cheek. The tips of her nails pricked his skin. “I will haunt your dreams forever, Bold Tamlin.”
He met her perilous, lovely gaze, and the words dried in his mouth.
Then he felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Jennet, her pale hair tangled, a smear of blood on her chin. She had never looked more beautiful.
“You may haunt his dreams,” she said, “but I’ll be the one living in them.”
The queen’s eyes narrowed, and she lifted her black thorn.
“Enough.” The king set a restraining hand on his sister’s arm. “We must each bear a loss this day.”
He looked at Jennet, the echo of the queen’s want clear in his fathomless gaze.
Tam stepped back, bringing Jennet with him. He lifted the sheathed blade.
“I could draw this again,” he said, meaning it. “I bet it would like the taste of faerie blood.”
*Cease.*
Quick as a bolt of azure lightning, the sapphire dragon plunged down and seized the scabbard from Tam’s hand.
*The Blade is no longer needed. Balance is restored.*
“Actually,” Roy said, blinking up at the huge black shape, “I think the mortal world still has a problem.”
“It’s true, sir.” Jennet’s dad cleared his throat and bowed to the dragon. “The faeries have found a way to infiltrate the human world, using a game interface I helped develop. If the human world is to remain safe, that connection needs to be severed.”
He shot a look at Thomas, questions burning in his eyes. The Bard shook his head imperceptibly. The time for answers would come—but not now.
“We must have access to the mortal plane,” the Dark Queen said, her voice sharp. “Else, I implore you to rip a hole in the fabric of our Realm. I prefer a quick death over a slow decay.”
*Indeed?*
The black dragon closed its eyes. A plume of purplish smoke wafted from its nostrils. When it opened its eyes again and gazed down upon the humans, a shiver scraped Tam’s neck. The dragon’s gaze pinned them like the light of an impossible, foreign sun.
*There have oft been those among mortals who have visited the Realm and safely returned. Keepers of knowledge. Bards and mystics who guard the border between your world and the Realm. It is time to anoint a new guard.*
The queen shook her head, her hair like midnight silk. “You cannot—”
*Dark Lady, if you wish your Realm to survive, you will bide. No gate will be opened to the mortal world. Yet it is understood you must have sustenance. This crossing point the mortals have spoken of shall remain open, for a select few. Agree to it, or see your world wither.*
The Bright King nodded his regal head. “You have my agreement.”
Displeasure rolled off the queen in icy waves. The king gripped her arm, and at last she spoke, the words falling from her mouth like bitter stones.
“Very well. It will be as you say.”
The leader of the Elder Fey nodded its massive head, and Tam felt a ripple of deep magic run through the Realm.
*Mortals.* The black dragon’s attention returned to them, burning the air. *You are the new Feyguard. Do you agree to protect the boundary between your world and this one, and aid those who stray too far into the Realm?*
“How?” Spark whispered.
“Through the game,” Jennet said. “I think.”
“What is it saying?” Roy asked. “The Elder Fey wa
nt to turn us into some kind of otherworldly border patrol?”
Bard Thomas nodded. “It makes an elegant resolution. The fey folk may interact with the human world, but not unchecked. I believe mortals need magic, as much as the fey folk need mortals.” His wise, weary gaze swept over the beta team. “You are privileged with knowledge given to very few. I can think of no better guardians for the human world.”
Tam didn’t like the solution, but what Thomas said made sense. And he’d realized a while back there was no stopping VirtuMax from releasing Feyland. If the game wasn’t totally safe for people to play, at least it wouldn’t be an open invitation to the fey folk to run wild in the human world.
He hated to admit it, but deep down he didn’t want the Realm of Faerie to wither away. No matter what damage the Dark Queen had done to his life. He flicked his gaze to her impossible beauty, then away before he could get snared in the midnight tangle of her hair.
“Tam?” Jennet said. “What do you think?”
He gathered his attention back to his bedraggled companions. They were looking at him as if he had all the answers. Funny thing was, he almost did.
He addressed the lightless form of the black dragon. “How do we make sure the faeries don’t grab every mortal who plays the game, use their strength, and then we all end up back here with this same scenario?”
*Most mortals will be unaware of the Realm’s existence.*
“How do you know?”
*Do you question the wisdom of the Elder Fey?* The leader let out a sudden, searing breath.
Tam staggered back but didn’t take his gaze from the dragon’s hovering form. “It’s my world we’re talking about. We need some guarantees here.”
*Few are those susceptible to fey magic. Your world will be safe.*
“But—”
“Cease,” Thomas said, stepping forward. “The Elder Fey cannot lie. Nor do they twist the truth, as the fey folk do. Believe them when they say the human world will be safe.”
“Just not those unlucky souls who get sucked into the Realm.”
Jennet touched his elbow. “Remember those old tales. Not everyone who stumbled into a faerie ring or danced under a full moon entered the Realm.”
“Aye,” Thomas said. “The Elder Fey will close the direct path from the game to the Realm. Now, only a handful of people who play Feyland will find themselves in the Realm of Faerie. Your task will be to watch over them. There will not be many.”
