by C. S. Wilde
Nightblood.
So Bast wasn’t only battling his demons. He was battling his genetic code, too.
“That’s why you forced me to undress myself?” she asked. “Because deep down, you’re mad?”
“Aren’t we all? At least a little bit?” he winked at her. “Besides, ‘forcing’ is such a strong term. I didn’t force you to do anything, I simply asked politely.”
Closing one eye, she aimed at the center of his forehead. “You need to do better than that.”
“Fine! Danu in the damned prairies…” he grumbled before putting a hand on his chest and bowing his chin. “I’m sorry you were caught in the crossfire. I’d only meant to hurt Bast, not you. Then again, you were a fantastic way to achieve my goal.”
“Do you enjoy doing that?” she asked.
“What?”
“Hurting Bast.”
Maybe Mera was losing her mind, but she spotted agony and pain behind his feral golden eyes. However, it vanished as fast as it came.
“We each appease the darkness inside us in our own way,” he went on, utterly dismissing her question. “Bast gives in to his demons when he’s bringing culprits to justice. Jailing them is usually enough, but he did mass-murder all those fae from the Summer Court. That, Detective, was entirely Yattusei.”
Mera gasped. “It never went on public record. How did you know?”
“I recognized my brother’s work.” He shrugged. “Leon and Theo rise above the nightblood’s influence, Ben lets go when he’s partying, and as for me… most battles I lose. Spectacularly. But it’s a price I’m willing to pay to keep a straight head. You don’t want to see me without my wits, I assure you.” Corvus waved his hand carelessly. “In any case, I would’ve never let you show yourself to my brothers.”
“Liar.”
He raised his shoulders carelessly, then laid one arm over the couch top. “Have you heard about the mad queen?”
At first, Mera thought he was referring to her mother, but how could he have known about Queen Ariella? Her blood froze at the mere memory of that bitch, yet with a deep breath, Mera assured herself she was safe.
The queen had been dead for over a decade. She couldn’t hurt Mera.
Not anymore.
“The mad queen was our ancestor,” he added, watching her with curiosity. “And also the reason why the light courts banished nightlings to this island millennia ago.”
Ah. Different mad queen, then.
“Her reign was of ruthless bloodthirst and pain,” he continued. “Great-great-whatever-grandma became a figure so despised, that her existence was stricken from most books.” He winced as if in pain. “I hate to say this, but the light courts were the heroes back then, Detective.”
Light courts and heroes in the same sentence felt wrong.
So wrong.
“Mad queens.” Snickering, Mera shook her head. “They pop up like daisies.”
“No, they don’t.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “There have been plenty of mad kings, but only one mad queen. None topped Nissa, however. No king was so fierce, so calculating, so efficient in their cruelty.” His gaze seemed lost for a while, as if he couldn’t decide if he feared or admired his ancestor. “Nissa had a unique sort of night inside her; a night not much different than Bast’s. It turned her into a mighty conqueror. In those days, half of the continent belonged to her.”
Mera knew that nightlings had been exiled to Lunor Insul after a ruthless war with the light courts, back at the epoch of great magical realms when Tagrad didn’t exist. Back when humans occupied the bottom of the power chain. Yet, she’d had no idea why until now—the literature on the subject had been severely lacking.
She kept her gun aimed at him, refusing to lower her guard. “Are you here to give me a history lesson?”
“Not intentionally. I’m simply trying to express what a royal taken by nightblood is capable of. Members of my family aren’t born mad, but we do have to fight our tendencies. If we’re not careful, madness can grow in us slowly, undetectably, until it’s too late to get any help.”
“That sounds like a bad excuse,” Mera countered. “Shouldn’t the magic’s influence have dimmed over time? If it’s in your blood, I mean,” she asked, genuine curiosity taking over. “Unless you married each other to keep the genetic pool intact?”
Poseidon in the trenches, could Seraphina Dhay be related to her dead husband?
“We did it in the beginning; brothers marrying sisters and all that.” Corvus’ lips curled in disgust. “However, we soon realized nightblood doesn’t work that way. It’s more like a virus that’s contracted when we put a nightling in a female’s belly. Usually, the mother doesn’t catch it, but it’s not unheard of. We suspect that’s why Mom…” He trailed off.
So, if Mera ever had babies with Bast, she could… why the hell was she thinking about this?
“It’s convenient that you decided to drop by when your brother isn’t here,” she noted.
“If he were here, we would’ve gotten into a fight, as we always do. Hardly productive, isn’t it?”
He did have a point.
“We both know you didn’t come here to apologize.” She wiggled her gun at him. “Also, you were perfectly aware of what you were doing to me back at the palace, which means you’re not mad, just an asshole. So, be done with it.”
“I see why Bast likes you.” Grinning, he licked his lips. For a split second, Mera found in his expression that hint of madness he’d mentioned, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “I’m here to give you what humans call a ‘heads-up’. I believe Bast is right. Nightblood might have cursed one of my brothers, thus driving him to kill Father.”
“One of your brothers? Don’t forget you’re our number one suspect.”
He shrugged, his fingers tapping on the sofa’s padding.
Mera rubbed the bridge of her nose, hating that she couldn’t decipher his true intentions. “You and Bast are eager to pit the murder against one of your own. Why?”
Hunching over his knees, Corvus gave her a sad smirk. “We fear what nightblood can do, and rightly so.”
“Your fear is clouding your judgement,” she pointed out to him. Baffling, really, that they couldn’t see that for themselves. “Besides, the Night King’s death rings like retribution, not madness.”
Oh, fuck. That’s why Corvus told her the story of the mad queen.
That sneaky bastard!
If one of his brothers had murdered their father—which wasn’t written in stone yet, at least to Mera—they could plead insanity. He was covering his family’s ass!
“You asshole,” Mera muttered. “By the way, did Karthana leave you already?” That just to spite him. Just for fun.
Who said someone needed nightblood to be wicked?
His eyes shone with delight mixed with a certain sense of pride. “She hasn’t, but Karthy understands the hardships of nightblood, so she will forgive me eventually. My intentions were noble, Detective.”
“They usually are. That’s the thing about intentions.” Against her better judgement, Mera placed her gun back in its holster. She might be losing it, lowering her guard in front of a proven psycho, but it felt like the right thing to do. “You, on the other hand, are anything but noble.”
“True.” He stood and headed for the door. “Do tell Bast I believe he’s right, and that we should work together to solve our… common issue.”
A laugh burst from her lips. “Pigs will fly before he agrees to that.”
Corvus frowned as if she’d meant that literally. “It could be arranged.”
Damn faeries.
“You killed Stella’s mother to spare Bast, didn’t you?” Mera asked as he turned the handle.
He gaped at her, shock clear in his pretty features. “I’m surprised my brother shared that episode with you. He must trust you a great deal, Detective. But I wouldn’t say I⸺”
“If you hadn’t killed her, she would have taken Stella away, and that wo
uld have destroyed Bast. It doesn’t excuse what you did, though, and I wish I could bring you to justice,” she said point-blank. Yet, the case was cold, and Corvus didn’t seem inclined to admit to murder in front of a jury.
“I assumed detectives had exceptional people-reading skills.” He chortled with contempt. “Yours are terrible.”
Maybe.
Maybe not.
“If what you said is true,” she went on, “then you and Bast are battling the same demons. Thing is, he has a way better moral filter than you do.” Mera studied him intently; the bewildered stare in his feline eyes, his flared nostrils, his pursed lips. “I wonder if you’re jealous of that, or if you want to protect it, somehow. Maybe deep down, in your own twisted way, you care about those you love.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, anger swirling in his yellow irises. “Make no mistake, Detective. I hate my brother, and hurting him is my favorite past time.”
“Yeah, he hates you too.” She let out a weary sigh. “Yet, you keep trying to reach out to him for all the wrong reasons, and perhaps, the only right one.” She let the words linger in the air, the way the first winter snow fell to land.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“You’re a sarking fool.” Corvus pulled the door open so harshly, he nearly snapped the hinges out of place. “If Bast refuses my offer, I’ll still find the culprit before you do. Thing is, I’ll help him escape.”
“If he’s related to you, right?” she corrected. “Don’t worry. Whatever you do, your insanity plea will never stick. Besides, you’re still our main suspect.”
“I suppose there’s that as well.” Corvus gave her a sideways grin filled with bitterness. “Perhaps I am the murderer, Detective, and you just let me walk away.”
Chapter 15
Bast stood in the living room, his body a statue as he watched the night outside through the window.
Gentle faerie lights outlined his form, and a few even ventured inside the space, drenching the living room in a silver twilight. Mera couldn’t help but feel like she was immersed in a dreamscape.
Sitting on the sofa, she stated the obvious. “You’re angry.”
“No,” he countered without turning to her, his tone eerily controlled. “I’m perfectly fine.”
Yeah, right.
She might never understand the complexity of her partner’s layers, but of this she was certain: Bast was furious, and not because his visit to Charles Grey had been a total waste of time.
Corvus. It was always about Corvus.
Mera got up from the sofa and went to him, pulling Bast slightly back so he would face her. Her partner kept his arms crossed, his anger awfully contained. His eyes, though… they were freezing cold.
Nightblood, the thought came to mind.
Yattusei.
Mera placed her palm on his chest, ignoring the grim sensation that nestled in her gut. “Your brother didn’t hurt me.”
“He could have.”
“Then I would have defended myself.”
“Like you defended yourself at the palace?” he snapped back without a hint of emotion, his tone a sharp blade that cut her to pieces.
“I was caught off guard, you baku. Your endless fighting with Corvus was driving me insane.” Mera rubbed her forehead. Getting into an argument with him was counterproductive, even if she reeeeally wanted to. “Bast, you’re a great faerie and an amazing detective, but until you face the truth about your brother, you’ll never move on from this mess.”
Raising one dark eyebrow at her, he leaned his head slightly forward. “Tell me this truth I’m failing to see, then.”
With a deep breath, she gathered all her courage. “You and Corvus might be more similar than you’ll ever admit.”
The way he glared at her, with pain and fury mixed together… it broke her heart, but Mera wouldn’t apologize for speaking the truth.
“I’ll ignore what you just said.” Spinning on his heels, Bast ran a hand through his hair. “You were in grave danger, Mera. How can’t you see that?”
“You mean because of Corvus or the nightblood?”
“Both!”
She shrugged. “Blood is blood in the dance of the macabre.”
“It’s not that. Get this in your head: you can’t trust him.”
“I can’t trust you either.” Hurt invaded his face, so she quickly added, “When it comes to your brothers, that is.”
Bast scowled at her, but Mera found a hint of agreement in his face. As if he saw her point, though he’d never admit to it. Either that, or Corvus was right—her people-reading skills sucked.
“What are you trying to imply?” he challenged.
Fuck, he was forcing her to say it.
“This whole situation is extremely personal for you.” Mera’s throat squeezed itself, but she couldn’t back down now. “Let me take the reins on this case, partner.”
He stared at her with undecipherable blue eyes, that nonchalant frost back on his perfect face. “You think you know me so well, Detective.”
She laid a hand on his shoulder, physically trying to reach for Bast because her words clearly couldn’t. “It’s difficult keeping a clear head when there’s bad blood in the family. I learned this from experience.”
He stepped closer, his presence looming over her, and if Mera didn’t know better, she would have been afraid.
No, terrified.
Dipping his head, he leaned into her ear. “I’m sure you do, akritana. After all, something horrible must’ve happened to force you into the continent, where your kind is killed on the spot if they survive passing through the protection zone. Which they never do. Tell me, how did you do it? What’s so special about you, Mera Maurea, if that’s your real name?”
An ice dagger to the heart had to feel better than that. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she refused to let them out.
His reaction proved her point, though.
“Bast, you’re too close to this,” she repeated quietly, sniffing back her unshed tears. “It’s stirring something inside you. Push me away all you want, but you’re still my partner, and I will look after you.”
Blinking, Bast shook his head and stepped back, his eyes wide with shock. “Kitten, I’m sorry. I…”
Her palm lifted, stopping him. “I don’t care. We’re here to do our job, so keep that damn darkness, nightblood, or whatever it is, in check. I’m going to my room.”
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, slamming Mera against his chest. Bast cupped her cheeks before she could pull away, and then she didn’t want to leave him anymore.
Poseidon in the trenches, his lips were incredibly close. If she stood on the tips of her toes…
“I’m sorry.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m so very sorry. And you’re right, I can’t see this case clearly. I’m fucking grateful I have you by my side, kitten, you have to believe me.”
They stood like that for a while, in silence. Just the two of them, until Mera took a deep breath and gently put her hands atop his wrists. “My last name used to be Wavestorm.”
His jaw dropped. “As in from the royal line?”
She nodded.
“Who could’ve guessed it?” He brushed her bottom lip gently with his thumb, his focus razor-sharp upon her mouth. “We’re both stray royals.”
Mera never thought of it that way, but yeah. They were.
“I’ll try to keep my temper under control, partner.” He kissed the top of her head, then let her go.
‘What?’ her siren whined. ‘Come back!’
Not the time, Mera told that horny bastard, even if she also ached for his touch. Not a good idea, either.
“Let’s get some rest.” Turning around, Bast went to his room. “We have a big day tomorrow.”
It started with a crown and it belonged to her mommy.
Mera observed the piece, which rested atop Queen Ariella’s head. The crown had a gentle glow to it, like that of the moon reflecting on
the ocean’s surface during perfectly clear nights.
“Watch it all you want, merling,” the queen said without glancing down at Mera, her russet curls floating lazily around her. “It will never be yours.”
Mera frowned. She didn’t want that silly crown. Sure, it was pretty, but it seemed heavy and spiky.
‘That’s not Mother’s crown,’ a distant voice reminded her. ‘It used to be filled with beads and adornments, but it was never thorn-shaped.’
Where had Mera seen that crown, then?
Watching her tiny, chubby hands, she giggled. She didn’t know why, she just did. Mera turned to Mommy, who towered over her, and hoped she would also laugh, but Mommy never did.
Ever.
Mother. Mera had to call her Mother. The queen got upset when she called her Mommy.
They were floating atop the sandy ocean floor, amongst a crowd of waterbreakers who stared ahead. Mera could barely see what was happening because her arms and legs weren’t strong enough to propel her up for long, and she hadn’t mastered waterbreaking like the older kids yet.
Turning to her Mommy, Mera noticed she looked annoyed.
No, she looked angry.
A freezing cold tip-toed down Mera’s spine. Nothing good happened when Mommy was angry.
“Here you go, little one.” Uncle Barrimond grabbed Mera from behind, and lifted her so she could watch.
Ahead, under an arch of colorful corals, a priest floated behind two waterbreakers.
The first was Professor Currenter. He looked dapper in his white bodysuit and golden corals. His faded-yellow hair was held in the usual tight bun behind his head.
Mister Maelstrom, one of the staff from school, dressed the same way—only his corals were silver. Taking the professor’s hand, he smiled sweetly.
Mera clapped her little palms in excitement, which was pointless, but it’d come more out of instinct than anything else. Professor Currenter clapped when he was happy, and he’d shown her how to do it. He claimed it was a remnant of his time on the surface, back when waterbreakers had their own place on land—he called it a ‘borough’.
