Grave Destiny

by Kalayna Price

  The queen waved her hand, and long banquet tables laden with food appeared along the edge of the tree line. More cheers erupted. She made another wave, and two large bonfires appeared at opposite ends of the clearing. Blue and green fire danced a dozen feet in the air, but it didn’t melt any of the snow around it.

  I tried to scan faces, but most of the independents didn’t come close to the throne or attempt to present themselves. By and large these fae were those who avoided the courts. They might come here, enjoy Faerie on these rare nights, but they didn’t belong to Faerie the same way as the courtiers did. I spotted Caleb, one of my housemates, when he entered. He was a greenman, though he rarely released his glamour. For a long time, he’d been the only fae I’d known. Or at least that I’d known I knew. He escorted Holly, another of my housemates, on his arm. She was fully mortal, but since she was addicted to Faerie food already, the revelry was safe enough for her as long as she had a guardian to protect her and keep her out of trouble.

  Fae of all shapes and sizes poured in. Most had dropped the glamours they wrapped themselves in while in the mortal world, but a few remained tightly glamoured, or perhaps were of so little fae blood that their features were completely human. Some approached the queen’s dais, bowing deeply, though not nearly as many as I’d seen approach the Harvest King during the Fall Equinox. This time I was close enough to hear their requests.

  “I would like to move territories,” a fae said, his briar hair cut short like a twisting helmet of razor-sharp thorns around his head.

  “And do you seek to join my court or to be independent in my land?”

  “Remain independent, my lady.” His dark eyes looked up at her hopefully.

  She debated only a moment. “No. You will have to wait for the doors to shift if you wish to migrate.”

  His shoulders sagged as he trudged away. A female fae waited for him a few yards away, a pensive look on her face. When she saw his body language, she deflated as well, even her long tangle of briars seeming to wilt. I couldn’t hear what he said as he wrapped his arms around her, but she nodded sadly, wiping a tear from her cheek. I didn’t think they’d entered together, and it didn’t look like they would be leaving together either. This would be a far less merry longest night for them than it could have been. She must have been in winter’s territory. I wondered if they could approach any of the other monarchs, or if the rules of the revelry allowed them to only approach the ruling season.

  More petitioners came. Most were about land. The Winter Queen sent away all those who wanted to move into her territory as independents, but she allowed three independents to join the winter court. A few of her own people approached about marriage contracts. She granted a frost fae and a little rowen man a fifty-year contract together, but the two of her Sleagh Maith courtiers who asked for a century she granted only fifteen years. The courtier who asked for the queen’s hand was quickly turned away.

  I only half listened to these exchanges, most of my attention focused on searching the faces of the fae for Lunabella. That, and wondering if I could take my heels off without anyone noticing.

  The trickle of fae entering the clearing slowed, a last few stragglers scooting in, and then they stopped. Theoretically, if the doors were working properly, all the independents attending were inside. I hadn’t spotted Lunabella, and she should have stood out among the other independents—almost no Sleagh Maith lived outside the courts. I glanced to Falin. He met my gaze only for a moment, giving the very slightest shake of his head. So he hadn’t spotted her either. That meant one of two possibilities: Either she wasn’t planning to attend or she hadn’t become an independent when she left the summer court.

  A few last petitioners came through, including two who asked to fill the open seat on the queen’s council. The queen gave them quests to complete, which made me blink in surprise. One quest sounded far more impossible than the other, so I guessed that she favored one candidate more.

  A chime sounded through the clearing, and everyone turned their attention to the break in the tree line ringed with hawthorns. A soft glow emanated from under the icicle-strewn branches, and then a pair of fae crowned in flowers stepped into the clearing. The spring monarchs. They were followed by an entourage of fae as colorful and varied as the blossoms their season was known for. I scanned the courtiers as they approached. One brown-haired fae in a flowing pastel purple gown caught my attention and at first I thought I’d spotted Lunabella, but when the fae turned toward me, I saw that her features were much sharper than the image in the locket.

  “Hail, queen of the long slumber,” the spring monarchs said in unison as they reached the foot of the dais.

  “Hail, king and queen of awakening life,” the queen said, smiling benevolently down from her throne at the other two monarchs. “The oak is sleeping, its sap sluggish, and its boughs weighted with snow. It is not yet time for you to wake it.”

  The two monarchs inclined their flowered heads. “The time will come for the snows to melt, the sap to quicken, and life to reemerge from your frozen touch, but for now we are content to wait.”

  “Then for this night and day, join our revelry. Be welcome in our court and make merry with us as we celebrate the longest night and shortest day.”

  It was a variation on the ritual greeting I’d heard during the Fall Equinox, following almost an identical pattern with different players. Another cheer spread through the clearing as the queen finished welcoming the spring fae into winter. Fae rushed up to greet the newcomers, and the spring fae scattered, joining different groups who had already started celebrating the solstice. Some of the spring fae had brought instruments and spread out to begin playing, others joining to dance or sing. Those of us who were representing the winter court with the queen had not been released yet, and I saw a lot of anxious and envious glances from the winter handmaidens.

  Another chime sounded, and the summer court entered next. Now that I knew to look for the division in their court, it was plainly obvious. The queen stood straight and tall, her gown more elaborate than the one she’d worn earlier, but still not as frilly as the Winter Queen’s. The courtiers who walked behind her held themselves stiffly, their clothing fine but conservative. The Summer King entered beside his queen, but there was more space between them than had been between the spring monarchs. The king had a much finer vest, complete with gold piping and embroidery, but he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. The fae on his side of the procession were lined up less orderly and their clothing choices were both more varied and often more risqué.

  They repeated a very similar greeting ritual as spring had, only they spoke of long summer days. I scanned the courtiers during the exchange. I knew I was unlikely to find Lunabella among them, as it had been only hours since we’d been told she left the court, but I couldn’t help looking. Then the greeting was over and fall entered. Lunabella was not among their courtiers either. That left only two courts—besides the high court, who I’d been told never attended—and we knew she wasn’t in shadow or Dugan would have recognized her name.

  As if summoned by my thoughts, the shadow court emerged from the hawthorns. The king was a dark and deadly figure in oiled black armor as he stalked toward the dais, not even leaving tracks in the snow as he passed over it. Dugan was an equally dangerous-looking figure two steps behind him. They both wore long cloaks that whipped behind them unnaturally, spreading shadows. The longest night might have belonged to winter and her solstice, but the darkness of the night liked the shadow court. I could feel that in the magic buzzing in the air.

  I was so busy watching the king and prince that at first I didn’t notice the rest of the court. Or really, notice how little of a rest of a court there was. Perhaps many members of the court had decided not to attend the revelry, but I was reminded of what Stiofan had said about fae leaving the shadow court. Less than two hundred shadow courtiers made up the procession, and only one aside from the king
and prince was Sleagh Maith. She had hair as dark as Dugan’s, and narrowed dark eyes that scanned over the clearing. She, I noted, hadn’t been required to hide her weapons. Multiple daggers as well as a sword were strapped to her, and judging by the stiffness of her dark gown, I suspected it was some sort of oiled leather armor. Like her royals, she wore the blood on her hands unobscured.

  The rest of the court were largely what I often heard the nobles refer to as the more monstrous fae. Goblins, harpies, and lamias were the more humanoid of the fae I could name. Many more I had no single word to describe. The Shadow King had once ruled the realm of dreams, and many of his people looked like they might have been born among nightmares. But while many weren’t particularly humanoid, many of his people were hauntingly fascinating. A sphinx looked around regally as she walked up the path, and a creature who seemed to be made of nothing but shadow and glowing moonlight floated along as if carried by an unfelt breeze. Near the end of the procession, a giant wyrm emerged from the hawthorns, though only magic could explain how the enormous creature had fit under the overhanging branches. Its gleaming red scales looked like each carried a small flame inside, and perhaps they did as the snow melted all around it as it slithered after the Shadow King.

  As the king and prince approached the dais, Dugan met my eyes. He placed one clenched fist over his heart and inclined his head ever so slightly toward me. It was a subtle show of affection, or perhaps simply an acknowledgment of the betrothal I had not agreed to. Either way, it was unwelcome, and I frowned at him. Behind me, I could feel a glare searing into my back. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see that Falin had seen the exchange.

  It was the queen. The air around me dropped several degrees, and I cringed.

  “Hail, queen of the long slumber,” the Shadow King said, his deep voice booming through the clearing.

  The queen regarded him a long moment, looking out over his procession, which, while small in number, still took up a considerable space because of the larger fae attending. The moment dragged on, and tension rippled through the clearing. Dancers slowed, musicians played more quietly, and revelers of all kinds turned to watch a greeting that should have just been a formality.

  Shadow and light were not seasonal courts. They did not contend for spots on the wheel of the year or have ritual sayings about the oak. Typically both were welcomed without preamble.

  “Hail, King of Shadows and Secrets,” the queen finally said. “And if you bring goodwill to my court, be welcomed to our celebration of this longest night and shortest day. But if you bring ill will, begone and do not darken our doorstep.”

  The clearing fell silent.

  No fae moved as all eyes turned to the Winter Queen and Shadow King. This was not a ritualistic greeting. It was not part of the ceremony to start the solstice.

  Several of the shadow fae bristled, taking the queen’s words as insult. The wyrm’s large eyes narrowed, its serpentine head swinging around to examine the much smaller humanoid fae in the clearing. I hoped it didn’t eat fae.

  The king seemed too stunned to speak for a moment, but he recovered quickly. Smiling broadly, he said, “Then we will be welcomed!”

  No cheer went up this time, but some of the tension broke. My lungs gave an ache in protest, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. I let it out in a rush as the shadow fae left the procession to join the revelry. Unlike the other courts, though, who had scattered and quickly intermixed with the fae already gathered, the shadow fae largely stayed to themselves, remaining on the outskirts of any group they joined.

  Music and the general sound of frivolity began again, slowly, but it had not yet reached the level at which it had been before shadow’s arrival when the chime sounded, announcing the final court. I turned to the hawthorns, anxious for this last greeting to be over so I could leave my spot beside the damn dais. I’d been too shocked by the queen’s words to think about scanning the crowd for anyone who looked too pleased by the apparent animosity between winter and shadow. I hoped Falin had been more observant. Maybe it had even been planned, as both regents knew we suspected they were being played against each other. But it hadn’t felt staged.

  I fidgeted, waiting as the soft glow formed between the hawthorns. It grew brighter than it had with any of the other courts, and the Queen of Light stepped into the clearing. My breath caught in my throat once again. Not from fear this time, but from wonder.

  I’d seen the Queen of Light once before, but I’d forgotten how unearthly beautiful she was. Earlier today I would have said the Summer Queen was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, but the Queen of Light made the other seem only a pale reflection of beauty. It was no particular feature; in fact, as I studied her face, I realized that she looked very similar to the Winter Queen. They were sisters, so perhaps that wasn’t surprising, but I hadn’t realized how much of a resemblance they shared. They had the same sharp cheekbones, the same rosebud lips and icy blue eyes. The Winter Queen was dark where her sister was fair, but otherwise, they were nearly identical. Except for the aura surrounding the Queen of Light.

  All Sleagh Maith glowed slightly, but the Queen of Light was positively radiant. It lit everything around her, making the night softer, brighter, and I felt an unintentional smile spread across my face. The glow gave her an unreal quality, like something fleeting that needed to be treasured. Glamour? Or just the natural condition of her court? The ethereal light was surely where the breathtaking beauty originated. Which meant it wasn’t real. And yet I couldn’t seem to look away from her.

  “Hail, Sister, Queen of the Long Slumber.” Her voice was musical, and just quiet enough that I felt myself straining to hear her, hoping she’s speak again.

  “Hail, Queen of Light and Daydreams,” the Winter Queen said, and the most genuine smile I’d ever seen on her spread over her face. “Well met and be welcomed, Sister.”

  A cheer roared through the clearing, fae rushing forward to greet the shimmering court of light. I realized I’d been so caught up in studying the queen, I’d never glanced at her courtiers. She had more Sleagh Maith—and more courtiers in general—than any other court present tonight. The glowing throng was huge and already breaking apart to join the festivities. But there, near the back of the gentry, I spotted Lunabella.

  Chapter 13

  “Let all make merry on this longest night,” the Winter Queen said from her throne behind me.

  I hoped that meant I was dismissed to join the revelry because I was already moving, trying to keep sight of Lunabella. Most of the light court had the same ethereal glow as their queen, though to a much milder degree, but Lunabella glowed with little more than the typical Sleagh Maith of any court. I guessed she hadn’t been in the court long enough for the magic to change her. She wasn’t the only one. The light court was the largest attending court, but its numbers seemed bloated with members who didn’t glow like the rest. Had they all defected? How long did it take for Faerie to begin changing courtiers after they changed courts?

  As if to make up for her lack of light court ambiance, Lunabella wore a gown of cheery yellow, trimmed with gold. A pair of yellow gloves with gold embellishments complemented the dress perfectly. Could she be hiding blood on her hands? Not that it was an immediate sign of guilt to have blood on your hands. Hell, I did. I’d earned mine in self-defense. Some earned theirs in duels. Some courts, like the shadow court, refused to hide their blood, while others passed all the blood to one member, like the winter court. And then they ostracized him. Of course, it was also possible the gloves were a fashion choice. Many of those in formal attire wore gloves.

  Lunabella scanned the crowds of fae. She might have been searching for friends as her head turned first one way and then another, but to me she looked nervous. Guilty conscience, maybe? She finally took off alone, seemingly wandering.

  I followed, keeping enough distance that I hoped I wasn’t obvious. A group of summer nobles ca
lled her name, waving and motioning her over. She’d scanned that area of the clearing a moment ago, her gaze sliding right over the small group, so I didn’t think they were who she was looking for, but she smiled and sauntered over to chat.

  I glanced around. A musician was playing a few yards from where she was now talking animatedly with the group of summer nobles. I made my way toward the crowd gathering around him, thrilled to discover there were chairs. I sank gratefully into one that provided a clear line of sight of Lunabella where she chatted in front of a banquet table.

  The chair put me very close to a group of dancers frolicking in a small space clearly meant for such frivolity. This particular singer’s voice was far stronger than his lute, giving his song a bardic feel. The gathered fae clapped in time to the music, and I lifted my hands, trying to keep the beat while watching Lunabella from the corner of my eye. Fae shouted the words in the chorus along with the singer, raising mugs and goblets into the air. Even if I’d been trying to follow what the song was about, I wouldn’t have been able to as it was in that strange musical language so many of the fae spoke. I didn’t understand a word. Not that I was actually listening. Even as Lunabella laughed at something one of her companions said, she glanced around, alert for something or someone. If she was involved with Stiofan’s murder, she hadn’t done it alone. I could only hope she’d lead me to her accomplices, and I doubted these nobles fit that bill. She was too distracted as she spoke to them, too anxious to find someone else.