by Elena Lawson
His wings whipped out from his back and his eyes darkened, filling with lust. The room heated, and I knew if I touched him, it would burn—but I wouldn’t care. “Don’t ask me questions you already know the answers to.”
The sparring courtyard was twice the size of the ballroom, closed in on all sides by thick stone walls, the ground made up of soft, dark sand. It took several splashes of cool water before I was ready to leave my chambers with Kade. It was my suggestion, if only to clear my head and get out of the privacy of my chambers. I wasn’t sure if I could restrain myself.
I wanted him. And I wanted Alaric. Finn was just as beautiful as his brother, but with a quiet grace I desired too. They were mine. But was I ready to make myself theirs? The nobles would consider it improper to take more than one lover. They couldn’t all be King Consort after all. But why should I have to choose?
Della, one of the seven sisters on the isle was skilled in the art of combat and gave me a little training. Not enough to stand up against Kade, but that wasn’t why we were here. Spread evenly throughout the sandy circle were three short pedestals. Atop one sat a stone bowl, a fire burning inside. The second was filled with water. And the third held a bounty of blossoming flower buds. Hay-filled sacks in the vague shape of bodies stood in a line around the room.
This courtyard, though also used for traditional combat sparring, was made for newly Graced Fae to develop their abilities. Since I didn’t yet know what my Grace was, it seemed the logical place to start.
“Finn said it could be fire,” mused Kade, “Like me.”
“It could be. Can you show me how it works?”
Kade opened his hands, raising them from his sides so I could see, “Your Grace comes from inside you. It’s a part of you. When I first trained, only certain things would trigger it. Like if I was angry,” he said, and a ball of flame appeared in his hand, hovering just above his flesh, “Or if I was turned on,” he continued, tipping his head toward me, his other hand igniting with flame, “Now, it’s as easy as breathing, I call for it, and it comes.”
I tried to imagine a force inside me like Kade described, and tried to draw it out, but nothing happened.
“You aren’t trying hard enough,” he told me, the flames in his palms evaporating into small clouds of smoke. “Use your emotions. Think of something that makes you angry.”
Sighing, I did as instructed and thought of Edris, and of my mother, and about the Blessing Ceremony. I thought I felt something stir within me, but then I thought about the assembly I’d have to address later that afternoon, and worry won out over rage.
“Hmmm,” Kade stroked his jaw, “Maybe…” he trailed off, and then swung his arms in a wide arc around me, setting the sand at my feet ablaze. I jumped back, but tripped, my hand falling into the fire. I yelped, and then as quickly as the flames appeared, they disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Kade rushed over, cursing, and grabbed my hand to inspect my fingers. “You weren’t supposed to fall!”
The skin on my first three fingers was red, but otherwise unharmed. Kade dropped it back to my side, scrunching his face.
“What?” I asked.
He reached up and placed a hand on my neck, sending my thoughts elsewhere, “Tell me if this hurts,” he said, and I felt his hand warm on my neck, then grow hot. After a moment more it was near burning and I yanked it off.
“That’s odd,” he said while probing my neck with his now cool fingers, “If your Grace was fire, it shouldn’t have hurt you at all. But, that was enough heat to melt metal, and it only reddened your skin.”
“That’s good, right? My Grace could just be developing and that’s why it hurt.”
Fire! I was Graced with Fire. It was an honorable Grace and one the denizens of my court would approve of.
“Maybe,” Kade relented, “But maybe not. I could try something else to see if your Grace reacts...”
“Alright.”
Kade’s fingers ceased probing my already healing wound and wound themselves around my neck. He jerked me forward, crushing his mouth against mine. His other hand grasped my waist and hoisted me onto him.
I yelped in surprise before letting the sensation take over. A fire ignited up my spine, and I kissed him back greedily, the need outweighing any sane thought in my mind. He caught my lower lip between his teeth and I whimpered, my hips moving against him of their own accord. He growled in response, tensed—and then dropped me.
I was dizzy on my feet, lightheaded and trying to regain control of my body. The burning between my legs subsided with each short breath.
“Well,” he said between pants, smirking, his eyes glazed with a sheen of carnal desire, glowing around the edges. “That didn’t work.”
Chapter Sixteen
The assembly was mostly made up of nobles, courtesans and council members, but I found the faces of a few townsfolk among them. In the front stood Edris, looking regal in white trousers, with a deep purple tunic embroidered in gold. Near him stood Ronan, his jaw set in a grimace, and Silas, the Captain of the Horde armies.
My skin bristled at so many eyes staring up at me. Alaric was at my side on the dais in the Great Hall, hands clasped behind his back. And when I turned to look at him, he gave me an encouraging nod. I kept my eyes downcast as instructed, even though Thana styled my hair to swoop low over my forehead, concealing the ever-changing colors in shadow.
Until we knew what it meant, we had all agreed it was best to keep it hidden.
“I apologize for being absent these past days,” I began, not remembering what to say, even though Thana had drilled the words into me over and over when Kade and I returned from the sparring courtyard. “I was taking rest in my chambers but can assure all of you I am well.”
Tiernan caught my eye, standing alone in the corner of the hall, close to the dais. His gaze travelled the length of me, making my stomach tighten. Darius had designed me another gown, this one silver, fitted, with a deep ‘V’ shape cut into the front. It was beautiful, and comfortable, but also the most revealing thing I’d ever worn. Keep their attention here, he had said with a wink before I left to address the assembly, and they’ll forget why they’re even there.
It seemed, in Tiernan’s case at least, Darius’ trick had worked.
“Were you Graced?” one of the nobles near the front of the room asked outright, a few others around him whispering and nodding.
I was prepared for that question, Thana had given me the perfect response, something that would neither confirm, nor deny anything—but the words eluded me, and I froze.
“Why did the water cause you pain?” another noble shouted from somewhere else.
And yet another shouted, “Why is the emissary still among us? Send him away!”
I clenched my jaw, wanting desperately to hold on to something sturdy. “I—well, I—”
I realized then how neither of the questioners addressed me with the proper title. I bit the inside of my cheek to regain control. And I was about to command silence from the crowd when Edris stepped forward and the people hushed.
“The queen was only Graced just days ago. Surely you all remember how long it took to control your Grace?”
“If she has one,” I heard someone say, but couldn’t decipher who’d said it.
Edris stood tall, his jaw set, “Rest assured, she was Graced. Our queen simply needs time.”
Time, yes, I need time. But for now, the people had to know I was in control. That I would not go quietly. And I didn’t need to be pitied or protected by someone who would rather have the crown for himself.
“Enough,” I seethed, hands turning to claws at my sides.
Edris spun to find me glaring at him from the dais. His mouth clamped shut.
Liana…
The phantom voice sent a shiver up my spine, and I turned to see fog spill over the cauldron. Alaric stood still, cocking his head at me. I shook off the tremors. “This absurd questioning is over,” I told them all, turning back and attempting to
make eye contact with each of the Fae in attendance.
Liana… it whispered again, run my child, you are not safe within these walls.
Alaric still showed no sign he’d heard anything.
Stop it, I directed the thought at the cauldron, leave me alone.
“You heard the queen. This assembly is over,” Alaric echoed from my side, showing force with a hand curled around the hilt of his sword.
Chapter Seventeen
“What do we do?” I whined, falling backward into my bed, my hands covering my eyes, “If I can’t prove I’m Graced soon, they’ll—”
Alaric sat next to me, “You will prove it. And in the meantime, we’ll keep you safe—whatever it takes.”
The truth was, if it was only a matter of passing the crown on to someone else, I would consider it… but it was my duty to ensure the safety of my court, and to make sure the person ruling it was worthy. And once the crown was out of my hands, the nobles would want my head too. They would want to put an end to my bloodline. An ungraced queen would be too likely to produce an ungraced heir someday.
“I have another bit of bad news.”
I groaned, “What now?”
Alaric pressed a small rolled scroll into the palm of my hand, “We caught the emissary trying to send this scroll by falcon. It holds the royal seal of the Day Court.”
Shooting up, I beheld the scroll. The wax seal was green, and showed a tree, its roots long and interwoven, but instead of leaves and branches, this tree held the sun atop its trunk. A letter meant for the queen. The seal hadn’t yet been broken—and couldn’t be. Neither Tiernan, nor the Queen of the Day Court would take to kindly to knowing their private correspondence was tampered with.
“What do you suppose it says?”
Alaric threw his hands up, “Your guess is as good as mine. But it can’t be good. Either it’s an account of what happened at your Blessing Ceremony, or it’s an account of the dissent among your people. Those are the types of things he would report on.”
“Or it’s both.” I mused, wanting to toss the scroll into the fireplace across the room. “Suriel cannot know my court is in turmoil. We still can’t be certain they’re to blame for the assassination of Enya—or the attempt on my life, but if they are…” I trailed off.
“Then now would be the perfect time to strike,” Alaric finished for me.
He stood, pacing the room, “I’ll need more sentries,” he said, head bent in concentration. “The three of us—it isn’t enough to protect you. And Silas is growing impatient, with three more nobles gone missing, he wonders why I haven’t brought the councils selected sentries for your approval.”
“And why haven’t you?”
“Because I don’t trust the council.”
“Nor do I,” I exhaled, dragging myself back into a seated position, “Turn them down,” I told him, “It will take time for them to select new candidates, and while they’re busy doing that, hire sentries of your own, ones you can trust. We can call them… temporary fill-ins—to placate the council for now.”
Alaric nodded, “Alright.”
“And select someone to guard Tiernan as well.”
“Tiernan?” he asked, brow furrowed.
I swallowed, “Yes, Tiernan. The Day Court emissary.”
Until he leaves, he isn’t safe here either.
Alaric stopped pacing, glaring down at me, “I suppose he can’t leave—knowing all he does. We can’t allow him to share that information with Suriel.”
That was not the reason I thought to keep him guarded, more so worried about his safety. There was something about him I couldn’t put my finger on. A likeness, perhaps? He seemed to understand me—my motives in inviting him. And to share my feelings about the tension between our two courts, and how unfounded it was. I wanted him safe, nothing more. And I wouldn’t hold him back if he requested to leave. But Alaric didn’t need to know that.
Wait, what was that he’d said? About more missing nobles. “Wait, did you say more nobles have disappeared?”
He nodded, running a fisted hand through his dark hair, “It seems so. Three more that we know of, including Silas’ own sister.”
“Any idea where they could have gone?”
“Not yet, but Silas has sent scouts to search for them as far north as the edge of the Wastes. I’m sure they’ll find them.” But he didn’t look so certain—he appeared worried and avoided looking me in the eyes.
“Now, about that letter…” he said, sitting back down next to me, his leg brushing against mine, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “What would you like me to do?”
“Nothing. I’ll keep it—for now.”
And I would keep it… until I could speak to Tiernan myself and decipher its contents.
I knew Alaric would never allow such a thing, but Kade, my devious and daring Kade, just might help me.
With Alaric eager to find trustworthy sentries to add to the Royal Guard, I didn’t have to wait long for Kade to relieve him. The Draconian warrior looked opposing in the otherwise delicately decorated parlour. He was a mass of muscle covered in black leathers, his wings tucked tightly into his back.
“Spit it out,” he said, moving one of this game pieces into a slot on the board that would only lead to his downfall. “I know you want to ask me something, you’ve been biting your lips for the past hour.”
I set my game piece into position to destroy the one he moved a moment ago, eliciting a groan from his lips, “I need you to do something for me.”
“And what’s that?”
“I need you to take me to see Tiernan.”
He lost his focus on the game, raising a quizzical gaze to meet mine, “What for?”
I pressed my lips shut.
Kade made a noncommittal sound and leaned back onto the settee, “If you won’t tell me, that means Alaric won’t like it. And if Alaric doesn’t like it, then I’ll be on the hook for it when whatever it is blows up in your face.”
“It’s important,” I told him, and waited for him to reconsider, his lips pursed and muscles flexing.
Finally, he cocked his head to the side, regarding me with eyes aglow, “What do I get out of it?”
I opened my hands, “Whatever you want.”
Kade growled, “I’d be careful what you offer me, Liana,” he said, eyeing my curves, making my skin tingle and prickle with heat. “But I accept, and you can replay me later.”
“You are wicked,” I jested.
“The wickedest,” he said, coy, “But you like it, don’t you?”
Chapter Eighteen
“Your Majesty,” Tiernan exclaimed, opening the door to his chamber in nothing but a thin cotton undershirt and trousers unbuttoned at the top and hanging low, very low.
He pulled up his trousers and buttoned them, so they remained securely above his hips. “Hello,” I said, “Sorry to intrude, I was hoping you had a moment to speak with me.”
Tiernan brushed the blond hair from his face, looking so much less put together than I’d ever seen him. “Now?”
“Yes, now. May I come in?”
He straightened his cotton undershirt, blushing as he noticed it was all he was wearing. I could see each of the muscles of his abdomen through it, even in their latent forms. Tiernan waved an arm inside the room, “My chambers are you chambers, majesty.”
Kade moved to follow me inside, but I stopped him with a look. “I’m in no danger here. You can wait outside.” He muttered something about Alaric ripping him to pieces, but did as I asked, stationing himself outside the door as I closed it.
The emissary rushed to clear a chair of papers and remove a half-empty crystal decanter from the table. He pulled the chair out for me, and I sat, folding my hands in front of me, the scroll clasped between my fingers.
Tiernan slumped into a chair opposite me, eyes fixed on the scroll, “I was wondering why he came back so quickly,” he said gesturing to the falcon sitting on its perch by the window. It was a magnificent b
ird, with small black eyes and russet brown feathers. It watched me, tilting its head as though saying hello.
I twirled the school between my fingers, then tossed it into Tiernan’s lap. He lifted it, bewildered to find the seal still intact.
“I didn’t know my sentries had intercepted it,” I told him, “And as you can see, I didn’t read its contents.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged, “I’d rather it if you told me what it says.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, “And you would trust me to speak the truth?”
“Should I not?”
“No, you shouldn’t,” he told me, eyes darkening, “But not because it says what you think it does—but rather because you shouldn’t trust anyone at court.”
Without another word, he broke the seal, and rose to place the scroll into my hand, his fingers brushing the soft skin of my wrist. “Read it.”
He wasn’t lying, it didn’t say what I thought it would. Written in a fine script was his account of my Ceremony—and it wasn’t true.
It said I was Graced with fire, and the denizens of my court welcomed him and held their queen in high esteem. It also said he had been invited to stay and thought it would be a dishonor to refuse the offer.
“But this isn’t true,” I said, incredulous, “Why not tell her the truth? That my court is falling to ruin, and there has been no proof I was Graced at all? Is that not your duty?”
He considered my statement, taking the small piece of parchment from my hands, “Perhaps. But it would do no good for her to know that—and I would like to see you keep your throne.”
He poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter, looking at me in askance before he filled the second. I nodded. “But why? Why are you helping me?”
“The truth?”
“Yes, the truth.”
He handed me the glass, and swirled the contents of his own, staring down into the rich crimson liquid as though it held all the answers, “Because I think you are a good person. And because I’d like to stay and learn more about your customs—I find the Night Court fascinating.”
