Unwinnable

by May Dawson

  Unlike the beautiful fake temple, this one was blocked by a thicket of thorns. Only the very top of the roof rose above the thorns, and it looked as if half of that had caved in. Enormous torches were mounted on the rooftop, and acrid smoke drifted from them endlessly. I could taste that dank smoke in the back of my throat.

  “What happened?” I asked. “How long has the temple been abandoned?”

  She scoffed. “It wasn’t abandoned. The temple is tied to the court, and the court is missing its king. The temple began to crumple into disrepair and the thorns started growing by nightfall, the day Jorden died without an heir present. The priests and priestesses had to flee.”

  She went on, “Some of them tried to bring the treasures inside with them, but the treasures belong to the king, and the magic knows that. The treasures inside are guarded by the magic of the spring court—magic that knows no reason, that’s bounded by ancient laws that none of us control. Not even the High Delphine.”

  Well, that was a lot to take in.

  “So if I really am the heir, the temple will recognize me?” Tyson asked.

  Raura said, “I’m not really an expert. I suppose I’m third in line to the throne, since Jorden’s dead and so is my mother. But I never worried about it.”

  “Was she Jorden’s sister?” I asked.

  She nodded. “The true queen. She was killed right after Jorden died.”

  She’d said her father killed her mother. I wanted to know Raura’s story, but Tyson sighed and started toward the thicket.

  “Wait,” I said. “What happened to the temple workers who tried to take the treasures out? The ones that were guarded by magic?”

  “They died,” Raura said bluntly. “The temple has a hundred ways to kill someone they don’t want inside.”

  I started after Tyson, afraid he’d be hurt by the temple.

  But the temple’s magic seemed to be irrelevant, because try as we might, we couldn’t get through the thicket. Even our magic couldn’t singe our way inside. We prowled around, trying to find a way in.

  “Is there a way to tell it I’m here?” Tyson asked in desperation. “Some way to connect to the magic? Or maybe I’m not the heir at all.”

  The idea was almost a relief, as much as I wanted to succeed in bringing our wolves back and help the spring court.

  “It doesn’t matter that you’re the heir,” Raura said. “You haven’t been crowned. You’re still nothing but a shifter. You don’t even know that you want the throne.”

  “Enough games, Raura,” Rafe snapped.

  “You dare to say I’m playing games?” she shot back. “You’re traipsing through our kingdom, trying to steal whatever it is you’re after, not giving a damn that the spring court is dying! I’m not playing games. This is my home!”

  “Then maybe you should be the queen!” Tyson shot back.

  “I’d have to kill you and Turic,” she said, “and while it’s sometimes tempting, I don’t want to kill my way to the throne.”

  “But your father did,” I said, understanding dawning. “Your father or…your mother?”

  She looked to me, her eyes flashing, before she nodded her head sharply in acknowledgment. “Then my father killed my mother because he wanted the crown for himself.”

  “And you saw,” I said. “Or knew, somehow? And he put a spell on you so that you couldn’t tell anyone.”

  “Oh, worse than that,” Raura said, her voice very soft. “Turic has never known what I know. He doesn’t fathom why I hate him so much. I was playing in the garden with my mother and he didn’t know I was just on the other side of the garden wall. I heard them talking, and he was holding her, and then the asp—and I saw everything, but I couldn’t—”

  She shook her head at the memory, then went on. “He didn’t do this to me. No. He left her there to die alone. I went to my mother and with her dying breaths, she put this curse on me to protect me. Because I would’ve tried to get justice for her, and I was just a child, and Turic would have killed me.”

  “And I’ve been trapped in that curse for ten years until that big oaf of yours came along and accidentally un-cursed me.” She let out a shaky laugh, beginning to braid back her long, loose curls as if she needed something to do with her hands.

  I wanted to hug her, but we didn’t know each other that well yet and she might not appreciate the sentiment. Still, there was a faint tic at the corner of her mouth as if she were struggling to hold back tears, even though her eyes were dry. I couldn’t take it anymore and dropped the pitchfork on the ground to wrap my arms around her. She smiled into my shoulder as if I were ridiculous, but she hugged me back as if she needed it.

  “You’ve got a dangerous amount of heart for our world, Maddie,” she whispered in my ear like a warning. She was already pulling away, drawing herself back to her full height, but before she did, she whispered, “But thank you.”

  “How do we get in?” Rafe demanded, breaking into our moment. “How does the coronation work?”

  “Aren’t you still worried about the cost?” Raura baited him. “Or are you willing to let Tyson take the crown—”

  “I believe that’s my decision, given I’m the one who will be king,” Tyson said dryly.

  “I don’t care if you think you’re the king of the universe,” Rafe said. “This is still my team.”

  Our conversation devolved into an argument.

  There was a surprise, with this crew.

  I ignored the guys’ fighting—I had a lot of practice, men tend to be so dramatic—and I asked Raura. “Do you have any idea what the cost might be?”

  Her lips parted, staring at me, and I had a feeling she wanted to lie.

  “You really want Tyson to become the king,” I said slowly.

  “There’s no stepping down in our world’s monarchy,” she said. “You can’t pull a Prince Harry here. Tyson is next in line. If he dies—and only if he dies—the throne goes to Turic. And that would be a fucking disaster, not just for me, but for the whole court.”

  “So what happens if Tyson becomes king?” I asked. “Could he leave you in charge somehow?”

  Her lips twisted into a disbelieving smile. “Our world matters so little to you.”

  “Yeah, meanwhile, I’m sure you care deeply about a place that you call dirtside,” I shot back. “What’s the cost, Raura?”

  “To be crowned, he has to take the oath,” she said. “And once he takes the oath, the magic takes him over. He’ll be the king.” She held her hand out toward the temple. “He’ll have anything he wants.”

  “Where do we have to go for that? The High Delphin?”

  “He’ll need to be recognized by the people and the Delphine, yes. But it’s his magic. His crown. All he has to do is say the words.”

  “But then…” I prompted.

  “Then he’ll be tied to the land and he won’t be able to go back to your world,” she rattled off. “It’s a promise. He’ll have made a promise as part of his oath, and promises mean something different here than in your world. Here they actually mean something.”

  “Won’t be able to come back to our world until when?” I demanded.

  “Until ever!” She exploded. “He’ll live and die a Fae!”

  Tyson and Rafe had broken off their argument, and we were all staring now.

  Tyson swallowed hard. The look on Rafe’s face was livid—and protective. Jensen’s face had shuttered, so he must be feeling something he hated, but those golden eyes were bright. He’d gone into cunning mode, trying to calculate our next steps.

  “And the spring court will live,” she said. “Magic will come fully into itself again. The temple will be repaired. Turic’s vicious rule will be ended. For what that matters to you.”

  “It’s not that we don’t care about all those things,” Jensen told her. “But this is our friend.”

  “More than a friend, he’s our family,” Rafe said. “We don’t intend to leave him behind in another world. Isn’t there another way fo
r him to take the throne?”

  “He’s only half Fae,” Jensen said thoughtfully.

  “Maybe we could trick the magic,” Rafe mused.

  “Whoa,” Tyson said. “Do any of you care what I think?”

  “A little,” Rafe said.

  “We’ve got company,” Jensen warned, his head cocked.

  We all fell silent, listening, searching the trees.

  Galloping feet. Breaking branches. Horses, coming fast.

  We ran for the shelter of the trees, magic sparking at our fingertips, but we were too late.

  Chapter Fifty

  Turic rode into his view, his men fanning out behind him.

  “Oh look,” Turic said. “It’s the false heir and my traitorous daughter. How lucky that we’ve all run into each other again.”

  Ty and I exchanged a glance. How did Turic even know that Ty was the heir? I looked at Raura, but her eyes were fixed on Turic, a look of rebellious resolve written across her face.

  Arlen and Lake rode behind Turic, in his crowd of knights. They traded a long look, as if they were miserable on Turic’s side.

  “What do you want?” Raura demanded.

  “I want to end this farce,” Turic said. “This boy is not the heir. He doesn’t even want to be here. He just wants to steal from us.”

  He seemed to be speaking to his men more than anyone else.

  And if Tyson died here, in the Fae world, the magic would know. The lineage would pass to the next in line. I sidled toward Tyson, angling my body between him and Turic.

  Tyson rested his hands lightly on my shoulders. I felt his breath against my hair when he whispered, “I still don’t need you to save me, Maddie.”

  “Bullshit,” I whispered. “You and I are here to save each other, Ty.”

  “What if he is the heir?” Arlen asked, his expression haughty as he looked over our little band with his glittering eyes. “Magic has dealt even stranger hands before.”

  “I really don’t like him,” Ty muttered.

  “No one does,” Raura answered.

  But I liked Turic a whole lot less.

  “Seize them,” Turic said. “Especially my rebellious whore of a daughter.”

  No matter how cold Arlen’s face, something flickered in his eyes at those words. I wasn’t sure that Raura was correct in thinking he saw nothing when he looked at her. Maybe he was just adept at the ruse.

  Lake and Arlen made no move toward us as the other knights swept toward us, half on horseback and half jumping off and moving swiftly on foot.

  “I see some old friends,” Ty muttered.

  The memory of the guard who’d beaten Rafe came to mind. I saw one with bright blue hair, a wicked smile across his face as he made eye contact with me, and I remembered the moment he’d turned to me from where he bent over Rafe’s body, his knee covered in Rafe’s blood.

  I headed toward him, my magic sparking across my fingers. He held his hand out, magic blazing across his palm, his sword gripped in his other hand.

  He threw his magic at my face, trying to distract me as he moved in with the sword, but I ducked under his magic, slide-tackling his legs. He slammed forward into the ground, his magic flaring then sparking out completely.

  He rolled to one side, trying to get his sword arm free, but I pinned his wrist and sword with my body, rolling over close to him. He grabbed my face, his fingers digging into my skull painfully. Two of his fingers pressed so close under my eyes, sliding up toward the sockets, that the pain jolted through my skull. It was almost enough to send me into panic.

  But the memory of the way he’d hurt Rafe…

  I elbowed him hard, managing to slide my elbow through his defenses. His fingertips crept over my eye socket and sharp fingernails dug in.

  I gritted my teeth and slammed my elbow into his face this time, felt soft cartilage and then the crunch of bone. He tried to dig his hand in harder, but he hadn’t been able to resist wrenching back. I used the space to turn my head to one side. Suddenly my face was free and I could breathe without panic.

  The two of us were on the ground, close as a lover’s kiss, horses riding around us. I could see his horrified, bloodied face up close and personal. Tension rippled through his muscles as he reached for what must be another weapon concealed on his body.

  I got there first. My hand wrapped around the hilt, his fingers overlapping mine, and the two of us struggled with the knife between us. I was in more danger than he was now, since he wore chain mail and I didn’t; he’d have an easier time finding a vital target to strike.

  Ah, fuck the knife fight. I slammed my forehead into his already broken nose, and he let out a gurgle of a scream. He fell back as I wrenched the knife free, and I flipped it around and drove the knife into his throat.

  He reached for me as I rolled to my feet with a shaking hand. I already gripped his sword’s hilt in my hand, drawing it with me as I rose. The look on his face was shocked above that bloody throat. He was already close to the end, and he hadn’t expected some little shifter girl from dirtside to kill him.

  “Don’t ever make the mistake of trying to hurt what’s mine,” I warned him. I would fight just as hard for these men as they would for me.

  I looked across the field where my men were battling the Fae, searching for Tyson. I’d fallen into the fight nearest Turic, and Arlen and Lake waited with him. At first, I thought the two knights were guarding Turic.

  “Well?” Turic demanded of Arlen and Lake. “Are you loyal to the crown or not?”

  “Always to the crown,” Arlen said flatly. “But Raura is part of our same house of knights. According to the law, we don’t have to fight against our own.”

  “According to the law,” Turic spat. “You can decide right now where your loyalty lies, boy. And if I were you, I would think about the consequences of those loyalties.”

  “Also,” Turic added, as if it were an afterthought, “she shot you.”

  “Well, I don’t claim to like her much,” Arlen said. “I just don’t like you.”

  I felt a spark of relief on Raura’s behalf. She’d have felt betrayed if those men had chosen to fight on Turic’s side.

  A Fae on his horse rode at me then, swinging his axe through the air to cleave my head from my neck. I raised my hand, and my shield shimmered golden around me at the last second, just as he swung the axe. The axe bounced off my shield, knocking him backward too, and he dug his feet into the stirrups, trying to keep his seat.

  I muttered a word in Latin and slashed my hand out, cutting his stirrups with my spell. He tumbled backward off his horse, and I headed toward him still gripping that long Fae sword.

  Another Fae rode at me, trying to save his friend, and I threw up my shield around us both. It was just me and the Fae.

  He slashed out at my legs with a hidden dagger, and I jumped over the flash of the blade, landing lightly beside him.

  When I looked up, my sword bloodied, things were going rapidly to shit.

  Tyson was locked into a fight with two Fae who fought with magic, their red and gold and blue magic swirling together as they blocked and parried each other. All around me, my men battled furiously with the Fae, who outnumbered us.

  Raura struggled against the guards gripping her. “You finally get the chance to kill me, Father,” she said.

  “That’s ridiculous, Raura,” he chided. “I would never kill my own daughter. Punish you for your willful little rebellion, yes—but I’d never kill my heir.”

  “Now they, on the other hand,” he said slowly, and branches from the forest flashed out and captured Arlen and Lake, dragging them against opposing tree trunks and pinning them there.

  Raura let out a cry. I looked to Tyson, my mind racing. Could he do that himself? If he were the king?

  He looked back at me with a wide-eyed expression. He didn’t know either.

  “Choose, Raura,” Turic said, his voice calm. “Which of them dies today? The one who hates you but stood up for you today, or the o
ne who thinks he loves you but has been silent as a coward?”

  Lake started to say something, and a branch slithered around his neck, choking him, until the words died on his lips.

  “Choose,” Turic warned, “or they’ll both die.”

  There was a creak, a groan, as the branches tightened against the trunks. Arlen let out a growl of pain. Lake’s eyes were shut tight with pain, his face pale.

  Raura’s eyes flooded with tears. Her lips parted.

  “I am the heir,” Tyson called out.

  “No,” Turic said, his voice warning. The trees seemed to shake like a breeze had come up, but there was no wind. “Stop talking, or I’ll kill—”

  “I am the ruler of spring,” Tyson rushed through the words, and the wind picked up. “I am tied to this land. I give myself freely to stand with my people, now and forever.”

  There was a rumble of thunder through the air and then rain began to fall, and the parched land began to change as the charred wood and ground melted into something fresh and green again.

  “Release them,” Tyson ordered Turic.

  “Do it yourself if you can,” Turic snarled.

  Tyson reached out his hands, and the trees obeyed.

  Lake and Arlen fell to the ground on their knees, both of them struggling to breathe. Raura ran to them.

  “You might be the heir,” Turic said. “But that means nothing if you’re dead and the throne passes to me. All I needed was to know you truly are the heir. Now the magic will know when you die.”

  He rode hard toward Tyson, already drawing his axe.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “Ty!” I shouted, and he turned to me, just as I launched the sword through the air toward him.

  He caught it one-handed, his grip sure and his expression resolved as Turic rode down on him.

  Tyson raised his arm and a golden shield with it as Turic swung the axe toward him.

  Then green and gold magic seemed to wash over Tyson, forming a shield. More of that magic twined around Turic, yanking him off the horse. Turic slammed into the ground, and green, growing things began to erupt from the broken, parched ground. The greenery covered Turic, the ground seeming to soften underfoot, as if it would drag him down.