Usurper (Chaos #4)

by Claire Farrell

  He made a sound that could have been mirth or frustration. “You will stop it before it’s too late.”

  “What can I do? I have no power.”

  He stopped and gripped my shoulders, staring into my eyes. “Power comes too easy to some. You trust overmuch in these kings, in their power. Power shifts.”

  “They’re protecting my daughter,” I said, feeling a little sick. “I have to trust in them.”

  “Do you? She’s a pawn in this world. All three kings will use her. For her heritage, for leverage.”

  “Are you telling me I should go back to the human world? They’ll only follow. They always do.”

  “That’s not my plan.” His mouth widened into a smile. “Know this. You can never trust another person to care for her as you do. I remember your devastation when you thought your child had died in the womb. You loved her dearly, and she survived. Perhaps you saved her, perhaps not, but there is no other who can protect her as you can. All you need to do is take the power for your own when you have the chance.”

  Flustered by the emotions and the memories his words provoked, I asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “Are you strong enough?” he whispered. “Can you do whatever it takes to save the child?”

  “I would do anything,” I said, caught up in a whirlwind of emotion and magic.

  He brushed his thumbs across my cheeks. “I think you believe that.” He abruptly stepped away and bowed. “I’ll leave you, my lady. Stay safe. There will be many battles before the end.” He turned and disappeared into the trees.

  I gasped and bent over at the waist, feeling an odd release, as if I had been temporarily trapped in an invisible cage. Bart was strange, but he was from somewhere afar. Who would know better than he what kind of monsters came from across the water? But I didn’t know if I could really believe that they were creatures who had risen from the dead.

  I hurried back to the castle, desperate to tell somebody what Bart had said. My first instinct was to tell Brendan, but he would be compelled to find the Darksider who had entered his grounds uninvited. Pride got in his way every time. I needed to give Bart a chance to escape, then I would be safe to talk. But I wasn’t even sure Bart had told me the truth. My only other option was Fiadh.

  Near the castle, I spotted some of Brendan’s soldiers and forced myself to walk sedately past them. They watched me with wary eyes, but nobody stopped me as I stepped inside and made my way up the stairs. The few servants I passed gave me a wide berth. By the time I reached Fiadh’s quarters, I was fit to burst. She answered the door, her blond hair loose and curling around her shoulders.

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  “Of course.” She stepped aside.

  In her living room, Conn sat on the floor with Setanta, who was lying on a blanket and staring into the fire. The boy looked better than the last time I had seen him but still depressed. He reminded me a little of Líle. Conn looked up at me and nodded.

  “Sit,” Fiadh said, shutting the door. “You looked flushed. Is something wrong?”

  “I had a visitor,” I said. “Someone I met in Sadler’s court.”

  “Who?” Conn asked. “Did he harm you?”

  “No.” I sat on the sofa. “It wasn’t like that. Do either of you know Bart? He had something wrong with his back, but he’s different now. I don’t know. He came to warn me about the ships, but he said they aren’t a living army. He claimed that Sadler made a deal with his god, and the ships are… sunken ships raised again. Something about undoing the touch of the Nether.”

  “The dead?” Conn said. “That’s not possible.”

  “For a god?” Fiadh’s face had paled. “It doesn’t matter. There are reinforcements of some kind coming this way. If it’s a deal, the only way to stop them is to break that deal.”

  “So what’s Sadler’s end of the bargain?” I asked, trying not to panic. A faery army was one thing, a reanimated dead faery army quite another. How could anyone kill what was already dead? Deorad’s face came to mind; I had once killed a dead man.

  “Something of that magnitude would require an incredibly high price,” Conn said. “And Sadler even named his court for his god. He’s building something we won’t be capable of defeating. We should leave. There’s no hope here.”

  “There’s hope,” Fiadh said fiercely.

  “And Setanta? Are you going to risk his life for that hope?” Conn demanded. “Am I to watch you both die?”

  Fiadh looked at me. “You must share this news with the kings. It may spur them into action.”

  “They can’t agree on anything long enough to act,” I said. “One wants peace; the other wants death.”

  “That’s because he’s tied to death,” Conn said. “His wife is a servant of a god. He must be, too.”

  “You think Drake serves the god of death?” I asked.

  “Why else would he want a war?” Fiadh murmured. “There’s no better way to service such a god.”

  “He wouldn’t.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “He wouldn’t kill people to make a god happy.”

  “Kings don’t kill to make a god happy. They kill to make a god an ally. His wife is death’s daughter. A child of death is only granted power by giving sacrifices. Death is the one god who never sleeps, who always fulfills his promises. Death is the only reliable god there’s ever been.”

  “Drake saved me from being sacrificed,” I said. “He doesn’t care about gods and—”

  “He cares for power, or he wouldn’t be wearing a crown.” She caught the look on my face and winced. “I’m speaking out of turn again. I’m sure you know him better than I. Let’s forget about this subject and talk of nicer things.”

  But I couldn’t imagine ever forgetting that conversation. If Drake aimed to become a son of death, then what did that make our daughter?

  ***

  A light knock on my door interrupted my brooding. When I answered and saw Grim, I breathed a sigh of relief. He was about the only person in court I felt I could really trust, but he was also the adviser to a king. That alone put us at odds.

  “Come on in,” I said. “But the meeting’s soon.”

  “I know. I wanted to escort you down.”

  I shut the door and watched him take a seat by the fire. “Where’s Realtín?”

  “Spying on the Darksiders.”

  “Grim.”

  He gave me a weak smile. “They’re our rivals, at best. We need to be sure you’re safe from them.”

  “Brendan asked you to spy on them?”

  He shook his head. “We, as in Realtín and me. We want what’s best for you. That hasn’t changed. But you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I’ve had a lot of disturbing things to think about.” I blew out a breath. “And I’m not sure who to trust.”

  He looked pained. “You no longer trust me.”

  I took a seat across from him. The light from the flames deepened the hollows in his cheeks. He might have been free, but he looked as stressed as when he had been a slave.

  I thought carefully through what I wanted to say before speaking. “There’s no trust in this realm. In castles.”

  “You went through a terrible experience,” he said. “And you blame us for it. You feel we should have rescued you.”

  “Sometimes, I feel that way. I get so angry. Nothing has been fair. But I blame myself, too. I thought about not having the baby. I seriously considered ending the pregnancy rather than facing up to the reality of the situation. And then, when I realised I could never do that, when I realised I wanted nothing more than to have that child, she was almost taken away from me. How can that not feel like some kind of punishment?”

  “She was saved,” he pointed out. “She’s healthy, even now.”

  “She is, and I know I should feel grateful, but I have this thing in my head. Since Scarlet’s birth, I’ve been imagining every single thing that could go wrong. I mean ridiculous stuff. But it’s like my brain needs to figure out ev
ery possibility just to give me a chance to protect her.”

  “That sounds very stressful, Cara. Are you sure that’s the best use of your time?”

  “It’s not a choice. It just… happens. I lie awake and think of all of these scenarios, and I’m not able to sleep until I’ve figured out solutions. It’s like a living nightmare, but it’s necessary. I have to be ready next time. I couldn’t have predicted what happened in a million years. I can’t have Scarlet in the position I was in. I can’t have her desolate and confused, without hope, thinking nobody will ever save her. I have to be able to save her. I have to know she could save herself.”

  I only realised I was crying when Grim handed me a handkerchief. That reminded me of Bart doing the same thing in the Dark Court when Sadler had hit me and drawn blood.

  “Everything’s a reminder,” I said, staring at the cloth.

  “Time will—”

  “I don’t have time.” I looked up at him. “What if what happened really was a punishment?”

  “By whom? For what?”

  “By some pissed-off deity. Because I didn’t believe, because I thought about giving up my chance at motherhood, because… I don’t know. Everything that’s happened to us since the first night has been somebody else’s plan. You realise that, don’t you? Somebody else has always been pulling the strings.”

  “We ultimately have to choose,” he said. “We don’t get pushed and pulled our entire lives. We must make our own choices or nothing ever changes. And why would a god want to punish you?”

  “Just a human, right?”

  “And I’m just a brownie, Realtín is just a sprite, and Anya is just a pixie. When has that ever been of consequence? Cara, I don’t think you realise what the rumours about you say.”

  “I keep hearing about rumours.” I raised my hands in exasperation. “What do they say? That I’m the whore queen? That’s what Sadler called me, and maybe he was right. I’ve thrown myself at both Drake and Brendan, knowing full well that neither of them really want me. I need my daughter to feel loved, Grim. I need her to know she has to love herself.”

  Grim’s breath hitched. For a moment, I thought he was intoxicated on my emotions, but then I saw the glassiness in his eyes as tears formed.

  “Grim?”

  “I wish I could help you realise how loved you are. Your problem is not what others think of you but how you see yourself. You earned the respect of many Darksiders while you were Sadler’s captive. Word came to us that you stood up to him, that you were benevolent and patient, that you behaved like a queen from the old stories, back when royals didn’t need to be hard and cruel to survive. Sadler made himself look ever more the monster next to you. He’s lost a large number of followers because of his actions. And all it took was a human’s spirit to show him up.”

  “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong about me. I watched a servant die,” I whispered. “And I didn’t help him. I heard a woman… heard her being hurt by Sadler, and I was just grateful it wasn’t me.”

  “You did all you could. I know you. And these rumours are not a bad thing. It’s how we remember our heroes, Cara. Do you think any past king could return and take his place as if no time had passed? Our tales made sure that Brendan would be accepted again, and if the stories immortalise you, then you rise above the pack, make it harder to target you. You’re known for your kindness, and the stories of your deeds could positively influence the realm.”

  “But I’m not good or kind, Grim. I just wanted to survive, and I did whatever I thought it took. I killed Deorad to stop Drake’s vendetta, and now Sadler’s using countless others instead. My bad choices affected everyone. I’ve made their lives worse just by existing.”

  “This isn’t like you.” Worry lines creased his eyes. “This isn’t you.”

  “This is exactly like me. When Scarlet’s around, I’m strong, I swear, but when it’s just me, I can’t… I can’t do this without falling apart. Being back here has just made me see how weak I really am.”

  He slipped off his seat and came close to pat my hands. “You’re the same person whether the child is with you or not. You just see yourself differently when you’re alone.”

  “When she was growing inside me, I felt like I wasn’t alone at all, like she was beside me, and I fell in love with her just for that. When she was born, I didn’t want to let her out of my arms. Things have been a little tense between Anya and me. We both love Scarlet so much that we kind of fight over her.” I snorted. “It sounds ridiculous, but I get jealous. I have to work, so Anya sees her more, but my daughter just makes me so happy that I can’t help being greedy.”

  “Cara, don’t do this,” he said sternly.

  I blinked in surprise. “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t do that child the disservice of placing your happiness on her shoulders. That’s too heavy a burden. You must learn to be happy on your own. You can’t depend on a child to make you so.”

  “What the hell, Grim?” I sniffed loudly. “You sound like Dr. Phil or something.”

  He frowned in confusion.

  I laughed. “Never mind. I do trust you. I can’t talk to anyone else like this.”

  “Tell me something,” he said. “When you went back to the human realm, where did you go?”

  “To my grandparents. The night Brendan arrived, my mother had been for dinner. She met Scarlet for the first time.”

  “How was that?”

  “Weird. Awkward. I let slip that I knew about my dad not being my real dad.”

  “Did you want to see him?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t even know how to start down that road. I get that the things he did were partially influenced by the fae, but the fae exaggerate everything. They can’t create something that never existed in a person’s soul.”

  “We may never know. You’ll see another relative today. The leanan sídhe will be at this meeting. I thought I should warn you.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Bekind’s my ancestor, not Nella,” I said. “Did you know?”

  “Brendan told me of his suspicions. Do you trust Bekind?”

  I sighed. “I trust her with Scarlet’s life. And a part of me feels like there are no more secrets. But with Bekind, you never really know. I’ll never truly trust her, but I kind of love her sometimes.”

  His eyebrows rose. “That’s new.”

  “It’s been a while since we last spoke, Grim. A lot has changed. She kept an eye on the fae around us, and I felt safer with her there.”

  A bell sounded from out in the hallway.

  “That must be the summons for the meeting,” Grim said. “Are you ready?”

  “No. I have to tell you something because I need your advice.”

  “What is it?”

  I knelt on the floor in front of him and lowered my voice. “Two things, actually. A Darksider who helped me escape came to warn me that Sadler’s reinforcements are the dead risen again. And Fiadh told me that Drake’s war will feed the god of death with sacrifices. Tell me what to do with this information.”

  He frowned. “A god who undoes death would be an enemy of Sorcha’s god. I thought you said ships were coming across the water.”

  “I did, but I was told that these are sunken ships or reanimated dead, or something to do with the Nether. My visitor also said it’s not the first time something like this has been attempted, so maybe we can find out how it was stopped before.”

  “You must inform the others of this,” he said. “While not impossible, this is something that hasn’t happened in modern history. We’ll need the lore masters to look into this to see if it could really be true.”

  “And what about Drake? Would he start a war just to gain a little power from some god?”

  Grim hesitated. “Cara, I want to tell you not to worry, but I don’t know Drake as I once did. He has distanced himself, made choices from afar that seem nothing like him. I just don’t know what Drake’s capable of anymore.”

  My heart wr
enched because, of everyone, I could believe Grim. And if he doubted Drake, then I probably should, too. But that didn’t feel any better than hating him.

  Chapter Eight

  I felt sick as I sat next to Grim at the meeting. Two dozen fae were already at the table. A couple of them openly glared at me. I pushed aside the cup of wine a servant placed in front of me. I needed a clear head.

  Donella entered the room with Sorcha. All heads turned to watch them sashay over to their seats. The massive skirt of Donella’s burgundy ball gown almost knocked over a passing servant, but she acted as though he didn’t exist. Sorcha looked uncomfortable, but then I realised that it was because Donella was stealing all the attention. Donella greeted certain faeries with a smile, while completely ignoring others. She marked out her own hierarchy, and they all let her do it.

  She stopped when she came to me and choked out a laugh as she waved a hand toward my black shirt. “Is it in mourning or merely too stupid to hide its loyalties?”

  I stared back at her in silence, trying to work out how on earth I could be even distantly related to such a creature.

  She sneered. “It looks at me as if we’re on the same level.”

  “Oh, we’re not on the same level,” I said, turning away. “You’re not even a queen.”

  Sorcha gave a little gasp that sounded suspiciously like a smothered laugh, then she ushered Donella to their chairs at the opposite end of the table.

  “You don’t need any more enemies,” Grim murmured.

  I grinned at him, feeling a little more like myself.

  The group rose to their feet as Brendan and Drake entered the room. The two seemed to be in a deep discussion about something. I started to stand, too, but Grim pinched the back of my hand.

  “If being a queen is your ace, then don’t spoil it by standing for a king or two.”

  I looked at him and saw humour darkening his eyes. “You’re a bad influence on me, brownie.”

  “It’s always been the other way around.”

  Brendan and Drake moved to the head of the table. They both stood behind their seats.

  Brendan put his hands on the back of his chair. “We’ll get right to this.” His smile was wide, but his tone was laden with uneasiness. “Moments ago, news arrived of an attack within the borders of the Green Court. The Darksiders overwhelmed a small force of soldiers and cut through a village of innocents before retreating.”