by Alex Rivers
Roan stepped into his pants, frowning. “Who is your advisor?”
I pulled on my shirt. I’d worry about the bra later. “It’s, um… It’s actually Alvin.”
Roan paused, halfway through buttoning his pants. “Alvin?”
“Yeah. You know, your relative?”
“Distant relative.”
I snatched my bra and panties from the floor. “I’m the new ruler of the Weala Broc, and I’ve chosen him,” I said simply. “I don’t tell you how to rule the House of Taranis. And you don’t need to tell me how to rule the House of Weala Broc.”
He gazed at me for a moment, then a small smile warmed his face. And through our bond, I could feel it—his pride.
That’s when the door burst open.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, and Roan lunged for his sword.
“Sorry!” Alvin said, eyes wide. “Cass… I mean Mistress of, uh… Cass!”
He was dressed in a wrinkled blue shirt and gray pants. Even though his wardrobe was now closely monitored by Idelisa, he still managed the rumpled street boy look.
He stared at the underwear in my hands, then his gaze flicked to Roan’s bare torso as understanding began to dawn.
“What, Alvin?” I asked, eager to hasten this along.
“Branwen,” he said at last. “She returned from the Seelie mission. She’s hurt.”
Branwen lay in bed in one of the guest rooms, Nerius kneeling by her side, a mixture of worry and rage contorting his features. My stomach clenched when I saw her face. There was a dark bruise on her right cheek, just above her old scar, and her nose had been brutally broken. Swelling had completely closed one of her eyes, and blood streamed from her lips.
My breath left my lungs. She looked like she’d barely survived.
I took in the rest of her—the ripped clothes, the bloodstains on her shirt. Her right hand lay twisted at an odd angle, and she cradled it carefully—just like I had when my arm had been broken.
Slowly, she turned her head, looking at us through her one good eye.
Roan, she mouthed soundlessly. I could see that blood filled her mouth, her tongue bloody and swollen.
“Move.” Idelisa’s sharp voice cut through the quiet from behind me, and I let her through. With a small satchel tucked under her arm, she knelt by Branwen. She rifled through the satchel, then took out a pair of scissors. “First, we need to take a look at that wound,” she muttered.
I stepped closer, still shocked at the sight of her.
“What happened?” Roan demanded.
She blinked and mouthed an answer. It took me a moment to understand what she was trying to say. Found it.
“Found it?” I asked.
She blinked again.
Idelisa began cutting through her shirt. “I’ll have to clean and sew this.” She pulled open the fabric, exposing a deep gash in Branwen’s side. The skin around it looked swollen and red, indicating inflammation.
“What did you find?” Roan pressed. “The armory?”
Another blink. I was pretty sure that was an affirmative sign.
“Leave her alone,” Idelisa snapped. “You can question her later.”
Branwen shook her head, and pointed at a small, leather bag in the corner of the room. The small movement caused her to flinch in pain.
Roan crossed to the bag, snatching it from the floor. He opened it, pulling out a small piece of parchment, frowning at it. “It’s a map.”
Idelisa held up a bottle of amber liquid over a cloth. She poured a few drops onto the white fabric. “This’ll hurt.” She offered the amber bottle to Branwen. “Want some?”
Branwen shook her head slightly, then winced. Idelisa shrugged, taking a sip for herself. Then she pressed the cloth against the wound. Branwen’s eyes snapped open, and she groaned. She thrashed, almost smacking Idelisa in the head, and then slumped, her eyes glazing over.
“Probably better if she’s unconscious,” Idelisa muttered. “At least she won’t suffer from the rest.” She pulled a needle from her satchel, then began threading it.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Nerius asked her.
“Trust me. I’ve helped a lot of hurt women,” she said curtly. With a furrowed brow, she leaned over Branwen. Slowly, carefully, she began to sew the wound shut.
Brutal. I glanced at Roan, who was still staring at the parchment. When I crossed to him, he angled the paper so I could see the map: a hand-drawn, haphazard image of a large-walled structure. One point, marked by an X, had a few fae runes scrawled by its side. I knew these ones. Armory, glamoured.
“We’ll have to wait until she wakes up,” said Roan. “This doesn’t help us without knowing where the X is. Cleopolis is enormous. It could be anywhere.”
I stared intently at the page, the curved line ringing a note of familiarity. “This isn’t in Cleopolis.” My heart beat wildly. “I’ve been here before. I’ve pored over a map of this place for hours.”
“You’ve been here?”
“This is the Tower of London.”
Chapter 26
Excitement crackled in the air. We stood on a dimly-lit street called Minories—not far from the Tower of London. Yellow street lights illuminated the street around us, the darkened buildings, and the old pub behind. Drustan—the fae of darkness—would soon enshroud the area around us with shadows. But for now, I could look out onto our small horde of Unseelie warriors. Roan stood by my side, dressed in his battle gear. Nerius, Elrine, and her husband Judoc stood just behind us, weapons glinting. Lord Balor was visibly shaking with battle fury, and I didn’t want to get anywhere near him, feeling unsure that he could control himself.
Surrounding all of us were the Unseelie’s best warriors, recruited from the five allied courts. All of us were here for one purpose: to get Lord Balor’s armory back.
My fingertips skimmed over the stilettos in my belt, anticipation buzzing through my body. For the first time in a while, I felt in control.
Ever since the Seelie attack, we’d felt helpless, scrambling for allies while the vast Seelie army loomed on the horizon, intent on our deaths. Seelie attacks had all been swift and lethal, while we’d been fumbling in the dark. Now, for the first time, the light shone on us—thanks to Branwen. Now we were the ones going on the offensive.
But we had to act fast.
Two possibilities could frustrate our plans if we didn’t get into the Tower quickly. First, the Seelie might know that Branwen had escaped with her map. And even if they didn’t, there was a good chance that Siofra was watching through a mirror, spying on our discovery. Both of these possibilities could give them the chance to move their armory, or bolster their defenses. If they hadn’t yet marshaled their warriors, we might be facing no more than a few dozen soldiers. An even match.
Roan touched my back. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked.
He knew I was dreading what was about to happen next: the darkness.
Drustan’s shadows were the only way to keep Siofra’s prying eyes off of us, a perfect shield from her reflections. But in the darkness, my memories would haunt me—the ones of my prison cell and the rat bones, the starvation and loneliness so visceral they’d cut through me like a knife.
Roan whispered, “You can stay at my manor.”
I clenched my jaw. I was an Unseelie leader now, the Mistress of Dread, and I needed to face my fears. “No, Roan. I’m ready.”
We both glanced at Drustan, and the sound of wings began to beat from the shadows around us.
One moment. His voice rang in our skulls, an unsettling echo in our minds.
For a second, it seemed as if nothing was happening, but then the street lights began to dim. Above us, the stars faded, their sparkles gone. The pub behind us darkened, the buildings clouding over with shadows until they disappeared. My heart began to race. We could see each other, just barely, but our little warrior horde appeared to exist in a void.
My pulse was racing out of control. Trapped. The darkness was overwhelming, n
udging at my sanity. My breath was leaving my lungs. What if there was nothing beyond the blackness? What if I drifted into the shadows, trapped forever in eternal isolation?
I felt a reassuring touch on the small of my back. Roan’s emerald eyes shone in the dark.
“I am here,” he said. “I’m with you.”
I let out a shuddering breath. Just looking at him calmed me, and I remembered that I could always feel his presence through our bond. “Okay,” I said, loosing a breath. “Let’s go.”
We moved through the streets, Drustan guiding us. At two a.m. in the city, there was hardly anyone around.
As we walked, Drustan’s voice echoed in our minds, guiding us across the road to the Tower, and down a sloping hill.
At last, he spoke in our minds. We are here.
I looked around, trying to orient myself, but I couldn’t see more than twenty feet in the darkness. I could see grass and a stone wall, and that was about it.
Through the cloud of darkness, I could see small dots appearing above me. Stars. Now that we’d arrived, Drustan was pulling the darkness away. Shapes began to materialize in the murk—white stone walls, a towering gatehouse that gleamed in the moonlight.
Now, all we had to do was get inside a thousand-year-old fortress.
Drustan’s darkness formed a sort of pulsing wall around us—a bit looser now, but still shielding us from curious passersby who might be looking our way. Last time I was here, I’d had to break in alone with nothing but a rope to climb the wall. This time, we’d come a little better prepared.
We stood at the base of the gatehouse. Among the Unseelie warriors were two winged banshees. They stepped away from the gatehouse, then spread their black wings, their eyes gleaming like moonlight. As they flapped their wings, powerful gusts of wind blew, raising dust and debris. With ropes coiled around their shoulders, they took flight, soaring over the turrets.
After a few seconds, the ropes uncoiled down the walls. Roan grabbed one of them, and I stepped forward to grab the second. Two more ropes unfurled, two more fae stepping forward to climb.
A few feet up, my arm muscles were burning with fatigue. Though my bones had healed after Elrine’s memorable wedding, my arm still occasionally throbbed, and the sudden effort took its toll. Every time I forced my left arm upward, it felt like someone was stabbing it with a hot poker.
I gritted my teeth, pushing on. Coiled between my legs, the rope shifted and tugged as some of the Unseelie climbed up after me. In the quiet night, I could clearly hear the heavy breathing of the other climbers around me. At last, I reached the top. Roan had reached the parapet before me, and he leaned over the edge to help me up. Gratefully, I grasped his hand, and he hoisted me over.
I shifted out of the way of the oncoming troops, hunching over on my knees to catch my breath. As the others reached the top of the tower, I could hear them whispering around me.
After a few minutes, a dozen of us had reached the top. When I peered over the edge, I saw eight more climbing the ropes, the others waiting on the cobbles.
“Let’s move,” Roan said in a low voice.
Clustering in one place was a bad idea, even with Drustan’s shadows. In addition to the Seelie guards, human security patrolled the tower of London, protecting the famous crown jewels in the Jewel House. The last thing I wanted was a human-fae battle.
Two ropes already waited for us on the other side of the wall. According to Branwen’s map, the armory lay between the inner and outer walls of the compound. No more walls to climb for now.
I hoisted myself over the edge, then let myself slide down the rope slowly, gloves protecting my palms from rope burn. When my feet touched the ground, I glanced up at the Seelie warriors following behind us. We certainly looked like a formidable force, but we didn’t yet know what we were up against.
Drustan had begun to lift his shadows—just a little so we could see where we were headed. Still, combined with our shield and the darkness of night, the murk was still disorienting.
I crept along the wall, trying to drown out the part of my brain suggesting this was all a huge mistake. It was just that—when I thought about it—something didn’t seem quite right. The location marked on Branwen’s map seemed strange, almost random—just a spot near the north-west corner. What if I had been wrong about the Tower? What if the map indicated some other keep, similar to the Tower of London, but in the fae realm?
From my side, Roan touched my arm, then pointed into the darkness. At first, I couldn’t see what he was pointing at. But moving slowly, I could see a light shifting strangely, something that flickered in and out of view. The illusion slowly disappeared as my eyes got accustomed to it, and I saw them. Four Seelie warriors, slouching by an arched doorway in the wall. According to the map, the armory lay just beyond that door.
The guards had been glamoured, but if I shifted my head at just the right angle and squinted my eyes, I could see them. They stood rigidly in front of the door, gripping spears. Apparently, enough shadows covered us that they hadn’t noticed us at all.
“Only four?” I asked Roan in a whisper.
“There must be more. Maybe waiting to switch shifts.”
“We have to take them silent—”
Before I could finish my sentence, several crossbows twanged from behind me. Two of the guards collapsed instantly. The third was turning around, confused, when Nerius appeared behind him, slitting his throat with one vicious movement. The fourth guard had just opened his mouth when Balor’s large sword hacked into his neck. A spray of blood, a head rolling to the ground, a headless body collapsing like a rag doll.
I let out a long breath. Okay then.
Roan quirked one eyebrow, and we approached an ancient oak door inset into the wall.
Nerius moved up beside us, turning the old doorknob. “Locked.”
A lithe, lilac-haired fae from the House of Ernmas pushed ahead of us. “I’ll have the door open in a flash.” She moved with a catlike grace to the door, pulling out a thin metal lockpick.
The Unseelie were clustering around me. “Spread out,” I said. “Keep watch for any guards that come our way.”
At my word, they moved into the shadows, hardly making a sound. I watched them as they disappeared into the darkness, pride filling me. These guys were good. We had chosen well.
The Mirth fae was still fiddling with the lock. “This one is tricky. It might take a bit of convincing.”
I hugged myself against the cold, growing increasingly apprehensive the longer it took. Instead of thinking about the guards that could descend at any moment, I tried to imagine what lay beyond the door. Magical blades leaning against the walls, maybe some enchanted armor. If half of what I’d heard about the Balor armory was true, the weapons beyond this door would be priceless.
In fact…
I leaned in to Roan, whispering, “Why hide the weapons here? Why wouldn’t they be using them?”
“The Seelie have always treated our magic with loathing,” Roan said. “They probably don’t use them to avoid contamination.”
I frowned. It seemed strange. Were the Seelie that disgusted by the Unseelie that they would forgo such a strategic advantage? I shook my head. I still had a lot to learn about fae culture.
I felt Roan tense by my side. “Guards! Human!”
I held my breath, moving against the wall. I couldn’t see him yet, but I heard the sound of footsteps. Next to me, one of the warriors lifted his crossbow, aiming carefully.
I hadn’t come here wanting to kill humans, and yet, we didn’t have much of a choice. If he called the other guards, the resulting carnage would be catastrophic.
“Wait!” I hissed as the guard came into view and I spotted his gray beard. He had a machine gun slung over his shoulder.
From my side, the warrior lowered the crossbow, just a fraction.
“I know him,” I said in wonder, and before anyone could stop me, I stepped forward.
The guard’s eyes widened as they fell
on me. “Goddess,” he breathed, and fell to his knees, his hands dropping from his gun. It was the guard who’d helped me free the ravens, months before.
Chapter 27
On his knees, he stared at the ground. “Oh, divine goddess of horror, you bless me with your presence once more.”
“Sure!” I said brightly. “Just stand up. Everything will be fine.”
He rose, trembling. “I have done my best to do as you bid me all those months ago, oh glorious one, when we met by the ravens.”
“That’s awesome.”
“I have adhered to the commandment be nice to people every day. I have also done my best to not be a jerk, great goddess, but sometimes, when driving—”
“I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”
“I will strive to be better.”
“That’s all I can ask, really. Look, friend, you don’t happen to have a key to that door, do you?”
“What door, oh wonderful one?”
Of course, it was glamoured, and he couldn’t see it. “Never mind.”
“Is it a test? Are you talking about a door to my soul?”
I sighed, and said nothing.
The man’s radio crackled alive. “Carter, any sign of that disturbance?”
I realized that someone must have seen or heard one of us, and sent him to investigate. “Tell him there’s nothing here.”
Carter answered his radio. “Uh… no. Nothing here.”
“Is everything all right? You sound… strange.”
“I’m fine. Just feeling blessed.”
“Carter, are you high?” the voice on the radio asked.
I rolled my eyes, as Carter assured the man he was talking to that he was sober, and everything was as good as could be. Finally, with the man on the other side reassured, the radio went silent.
He looked at me apologetically. “Everyone is on edge, my goddess. We’ve been told to patrol this area. The past two nights, with the extra guards and the new ammunition, it’s just been—”
My heart sped up. “What new ammunition?”
