by Alex Rivers
Roan’s amber gaze cleared, returning to mossy green, and he unclenched his fingers from the sheets. “You’re free to leave whenever you want.”
I felt an unexpected hollowness at his words. Why didn’t I feel free? “I think you need me here.”
“We do need you. But you’re free to go.”
Until I could sort out the dark smoke clouding my mind, we’d do better to put any more soulmate discussions on hold.
I pulled down the nightgown over my hips. “What’s our plan, anyway? What are we going to do about the Seelie?”
Roan rose from the bed and it sprang up again. He crossed to a large bookcase and pulled a tome from the shelves. He returned to the bed, flipping through the yellowed pages until he got to a map. I leaned closer, peering over his shoulder at an image of hilly terrain, a wide river crossing it from south to north. He pointed at a square marked in the center of the map, on the river. “The fortress stands here, over the river Cingeto. If the Seelie want to cross with a large host, they’ll have to cross here through the fortress, or travel north for weeks, and cross in a marshy area, where they’d lose many men to the deadly swamps.”
“What about the south?” I pointed at the map.
He shook his head. “Hawkwood Forest is the realm of the Elder Fae. The Seelie would never manage to cross it with a large host; the Elder Fae would decimate them. No. Cingeto’s Fortress is the only way.”
I stared at it. “How well fortified is it?”
“Very. It’s an Unseelie fort, and Ogmios made sure it is prepared for almost anything. For all his faults, he never underestimated the Seelie.”
“So we have time.”
He shook his head. “Not as long as you’d hope. I doubt we have more than a week or two. Unfortunately, the Unseelie courts are at each other’s throats instead of unifying. Rebellions, mutinies, fae trying to fill the vacuum of power. General Borvo, who leads the majority of the Unseelie army, will probably take orders from a council, a republic. We need leadership, and we need an alliance. I must unite the six courts.”
I arched an eyebrow. “How do you plan to do that, exactly?”
He smiled faintly. “By threatening and making deals and begging and arguing until my voice runs out. With you by my side, if you’ll stay.”
I bit my lip. “By your side?”
“You are the Mistress of Dread. You overthrew King Ogmios. You also happen to be one of his children. For the fae, you aren’t Cassandra Liddell. You are Cassandra of…” He glanced away from me, his body tensing “Of the house that you belong to.”
“You can’t even say the name. You really hate the court that much?”
His eyes darkened. “They slaughtered my entire family. My entire court. At one point, I wanted to slay every fae of the Weala Broc court.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again. “I do hope you’ve changed your mind.”
“A fae can’t kill his mate. You’re safe.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That’s the only reason I’m safe from you? Some kind of official fae rules about not killing mates?”
His features softened. “No, of course not. You’re different. You’re Cassandra. Anyway, my point is, you have a legitimate claim to the throne of the terror leeches.”
“You really have a way with words.” I frowned. “Hang on. I thought we were establishing a republic? Why are we still talking about thrones? A republic means we get rid of a hereditary system of government. You have to depose the monarchs, then vote for your leaders. You need to look up the French Revolution.”
Roan looked affronted. “That’s not a fae republic. That’s a human republic.”
“So how does a fae republic work, exactly?”
“Each court has a hereditary ruler. Like you, among the terror leeches.” He cleared his throat. “The terror fae. Or me with the Court of Lust. But we only intervene in times of crisis. Unseelie nobles elect a consul to oversee each court, and they make the primary governmental decisions in conjunction with the other consuls, appointing senators and whatnot.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s not really a republic in the strictest sense—”
“It’s a fae republic,” he repeated. “Do you honestly think I’d manage to convince the kings and queens of these courts to join in a republic that would result in their deaths? In any case, you’re in the position to inherit the throne of terror.”
“Me, on the throne of terror? You must be joking.”
“Joking? As my soulmate, you should probably know something.” He closed the book. “I have absolutely no sense of humor.”
Chapter 4
I walked through the mansion’s east wing, my heels clacking over the floor. The smell of smoke still hung on the air.
The night before, Roan had stayed at my bedside until I’d started to drift off. He’d soothed my mind with stories of his childhood—when he and his sister had woven crowns of honeysuckle and cowslip, when they’d pretended to be kings and queens on rocky woodland thrones.
I’d fallen asleep with images in my mind of two golden-haired fae children, plucking flowers by a river bank. In my dreams, I’d been with them, dipping my hands in the cool river water and feeling it rush over my fingers, listening to their laughter fill the air.
Now, afternoon light slanted into the hallway, and I traced my finger over Roan’s smoke-stained walls. I’d spent the morning watching Roan glamour the mansion. With his powers, he could hide it from the rest of the world again—a stunning feat of magic. The outside of the mansion had appeared to turn from a towering Tudor palace into unassuming brick walls.
Apparently, his magical glamouring powers weren’t just for changing hair colors.
At the window, I paused to look out over the courtyard. Here, on the mansion’s interior, I could see the real Tudor palace. The Seelie had destroyed one of the wings in the attack, but the other three stood proudly. London’s dreary rain had helped dampen the flames, pouring through the charred holes in the ceiling.
Shivering, I touched the warped windowpane, studying the smoldering wing, the lumps of sodden ash and blackened wood. What sort of memories had Roan formed in that wing?
I liked hearing about his past, liked seeing the warmth in his eyes when he spoke about his sister and their adventures. His whole face seemed to change when he talked about it, like I was seeing a new Roan.
If Roan ever needed me to soothe his mind with stories about my past, what would I tell him?
I couldn’t remember life very well before Siofra murdered my parents. I think I’d suppressed it. The memory of their murder had cast a dark pall over everything that had come before.
Maybe the best time in my life had been college, when I’d lived with Scarlett. I’d always been prepared for class days in advance, homework completed ahead of time, notes typed and organized and saved in their appropriate folders…
No. Folder organization wasn’t going to soothe anyone to sleep.
What else? I thought of my early morning strolls to the coffee shop, where I’d picked up muffins and an Earl Grey tea before heading to my abnormal psych class. And I’d had fun, too. I’d been Scarlett’s invisible wing-man on dates, on call if things got weird. She’d used these ridiculous codes to communicate mid-date. “Can you turn off the iron?” meant “I need you to rescue me now,” and “I think I left the burner on” meant “I might be bringing him home, so put on some pants.”
There were the autumn walks as the leaves changed, hot chocolate warming our hands, and the bottles of wine we drank over comedy movies.
Just thinking about those old days in Massachusetts made me feel desperate to go back.
I wasn’t sure what those memories would do for Roan, but right now, they were stilling the dark voices in my head. Those memories could help me forget the dark hole where Ogmios had kept me.
I shivered, staring out the window. I had to face the facts. Here, among the dark, sludgy ash, was my reality.
I was over three thousand mi
les from home, living among the fae. Cassandra Liddell, the perpetually prepared, had ended up stuck on the precipice of a brutal and unpredictable civil war.
To the Unseelie, I was the Mistress of Dread, heir to the throne, killer of kings. But to myself, I was still Cassandra Liddell, and I wasn’t entirely convinced I could survive in this world.
I straightened, my resolve strengthening. Maybe it was time I started dealing with my own fear. I turned, heading back to my bedroom.
As I walked, I mentally prepared myself. And yet, when I turned the doorknob to my room, my knees were already shaking.
I locked the door behind me. The click of the lock was enough to set my teeth on edge, to make my muscles tense. Trapped.
Slowly, I surveyed the room. It was still okay in here. The setting sun streamed through the window, and a cold breeze chilled the air. Swallowing hard, I crossed to the window, then slammed it shut.
My pulse was racing already. But I still had to deal with the light. I untied the heavy velvet curtains, then pulled them closed. Darkness enveloped the room, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
My breath shallowed. I’m back in the cell. Back under Abellio’s control.
Chills of fear ran up my spine as I turned my back to the window. My breath left my lungs as I began to count the seconds.
One.
I’d returned to the darkness, to the dungeons of the keep. Alone.
Two.
Only the rats remained. First friends, then sustenance. I could feel their fur on my lips.
Three.
I can’t stand. The ceiling’s too low.
Four.
No colors. No light. The air still, no wind. Only the voices in my mind.
Five.
Nothing at all.
Six.
My heart hammering, I whirled and ripped the curtains open. Then I heaved open the window, letting in the fresh air. Light bathed the room, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
I stared down at my fingers, making sure they were clean. No rat blood.
That was what two months in Ogmios’ dungeons had done to me. Mistress of Dread, heir to the throne, killer of kings… afraid of the dark.
A banging on the door had me jumping out of my skin, and I was pretty sure my heart stopped for a minute.
Before I could catch my breath, the door was already splintering as a powerful fist hammered against it again. Roan’s voice boomed from the other side. “Cassandra!”
I rushed across the room, unlocking the door. “It’s okay, Roan!”
I yanked open the door to find Roan standing on the other side, his eyes wild with primal panic. He’d unveiled completely, his ears now pointed, canines bared. “I felt your fear all the way from Elrine’s room. What’s happening? Was someone trying to hurt you?”
Elrine’s room. Of course. Maybe I was his soulmate, but he always seemed to end up back with her.
I shook my head and tried to steady my nerves. “Just a little exposure therapy.”
His brow wrinkled. “What?”
“I’ll be doing it every day. You don’t need to barge in here when you feel my fear. I need to make myself get used to the dark again, and the only way to do it is to face my fears.”
Understanding dawned in his golden eyes, but his fists remained tightly clenched. He’d come ready to tear out the throat of anyone threatening me, only to find that his enemy was darkness itself. Without anyone to eviscerate, the bloodlust hadn’t quite left him. “You don’t want me to barge in?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m going to be doing this every day and night. You’ll feel my fear, but I’ll be fine. I’ll call you if I need you.” I placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heart thudding hard against his ribs. “I’m okay. You can go back to Elrine’s room.”
He covered my hand in his. “I’ll stay here with you when you do your… therapy.”
“That’s not how it works.” I pulled my hand away from him. “Really. You can go.” I failed to keep the sharpness out of my voice.
“You’re angry.”
I crossed my arms. “What were you doing in Elrine’s room?”
“We had something important to discuss. Tomorrow we need to negotiate with the Court of Mirth. Her court. I am trying to convince her to try a tactic she does not favor.”
My shoulders tensed. One of these days I was going to make him tell me everything about him and Elrine.
Roan scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “When you sleep tonight, I’ll be in the room next door.”
“Perfect. You wouldn’t want to stay in here anyway. I keep the windows open to…” Not feel trapped. “…Let in the winter air, and I sleep with a lantern burning next to my bed.”
He nodded, his face serious. “If you need me, knock on the wall.”
I thought of what it would feel like to sleep with Roan curled protectively around me in my bed, his body warming mine through the night.
Roan seemed reluctant to leave, and he leaned against the door frame. “I didn’t see you at lunch.”
So that’s why my stomach felt terrible. “I forgot. I’ll grab something on the way out.”
Concern furrowed his brow. “You won’t be joining us for dinner? I’ve hired a new cook. He will be making chicken and ale broth and strawberry pudding.” He cocked his head. “If you eat more, you will feel better.”
My mouth watered at the thought of rich, fae food. “Please put some aside for me. I’ll grab it when I get back. I have work to do in the City.”
“What work?”
“If we’re going to defeat the Seelie, I need my powers back.” I bit my lip, not entirely sure how to explain it. “I can still feel some remnants of the Stone, of the dread powers, even if I can’t harness them. I’m heading to Cannon Street to see what I can feel there, to the place where the stone used to be. I have a feeling it might take a while.”
He nodded. “Your food will be waiting for you when you return.”
I stood on Cannon Street, directly outside the spot where the London Stone had once rested.
I rubbed a hand over my stomach, still hungry. Before leaving the mansion, I’d grabbed a hasty sandwich, but it wasn’t quite doing the trick. If it hadn’t been for the impending threat of a Seelie attack, I’d be in Roan’s dining room right now, working my way through a rich stew.
The setting sun shone off the smudged glass, the metal grate. The closer I’d gotten to this spot, the stronger the tug had been. A residual store of terror magic? And yet it didn’t feel quite the same. The power seemed to move in elusive waves that I couldn’t quite grasp, couldn’t pull into me.
When I’d bonded with the London Stone, it had been like a spirit invading my body, lingering in my skull. This felt more like watery ghosts skittering over my skin, something I couldn’t hang on to.
I closed my eyes, feeling the tendrils of darkness wash over me, never quite flowing inside.
I began walking along the pavement—heading east, the feeling grew weaker, the tug pulling me back. And yet—this wasn’t quite it. Further west, and the tug got weaker again, slipping off my body.
Damn it.
I was beginning to suspect I’d just been feeling the remnants of the Stone’s power. Just an afterglow.
Disappointment welled in my chest. Lost. I’ve lost the power. And the Seelie are coming for us.
And what did we have in our arsenal? Literally, no weapons; those had been stolen. And no dread power, either. All we had was the flimsy, tenuous hope of an alliance with the other Unseelie. Tomorrow, Roan and I would try to persuade the other courts to join forces with us, but none of us could predict what they would say.
With a heavy heart, I stared into a darkened window, letting my mind click with the glass surface. As I stepped into it, the cool reflection washed over my skin.
Chapter 5
As I followed Roan through Hyde Park, I tried not to think about my missing dread powers. We had an immediate goal, and that goal was to form an Unseelie allia
nce.
And if nothing else, at least my belly was full today.
That morning, Roan’s new chef had made us a strange fae breakfast with sweet bread soaked in wine. Apparently, wine for breakfast was normal in the fae realm, and it had given me a gentle buzz. Probably for the best, given that I was about to enter one of the strongholds of the Court of Mirth. I didn’t need my anxieties curling around the whole place, drawing attention to me.
Roan turned to look at me as we walked over the sun-dappled grass. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone quiet.”
“I’m trying not to think about my missing powers.”
“I see.”
“I went to the site of the Stone yesterday, but there was nothing there. Nothing I could use.”
The daylight glinted in his eyes. “I thought your goal was not to think about it.”
“The Seelie are coming for us, and we have nothing.”
“You’re strong, Cassandra. You’ll get your power back.”
I swallowed hard, smoothing my already-smooth dress. Branwen had selected it—a semi-sheer rosy gown that reached the mossy floor. Slits rose up the sides, exposing my legs when I walked, and Roan seemed to struggle to tear his eyes away from the deep V of my neckline. Fae fashion had changed abruptly once the king died. Weeks ago, only fae harlots and anti-government conspirators would have shown this much leg.
At last, we reached what appeared to be an oak tree. It wasn’t, of course, just an oak. I followed Roan through the glamoured trunk into a new park—a fae park. Here, flowering laburnum trees curved above us, their cultivated branches forming an archway of golden flowers that dangled into the air.
Chinks of sunlight streamed through the golden flowers, the rays bringing them to life so they seemed to glow within. The light streamed over Roan, gilding his powerful body. He seemed to belong here in the Court of Mirth. Somewhere above the canopy of boughs, a bird chirped, and another answered. I’d been expecting some sort of palace or mansion, but the path seemed to be leading us only deeper into the woods.
