by K. M. Shea
Linus laughed. “No, no. But if Lady Chrysanthe joined your personal guard, Lady Demetria might kick the bucket out of shock, and I’ve never liked that old hag.” He scooped up another shovelful of glass and trotted to a different nearly-full trash bin. “Speaking of romantic endeavors, where is your consort while you’re toiling away?”
“He’s around,” I said. “Chase told me he asked him to patrol. Chase was half afraid someone might try to attack us while we’re here. I saw him earlier—he was watching Lady Korrina and Lord Gaios who were scouting out the hallways on the second floor.”
While I’d told Skye to make a formal announcement that we were going to begin some cleaning efforts in the Night Realm, I hadn’t expected anyone besides my servants to show up for the first work day.
To my surprise, a number of common fae—including all the members of the Courtly Night Acting Troupe—and even a few nobles came and really went for it with the cleanup efforts.
“I suppose it’s not a bad thing to have an ex-assassin skulking around the palace since it’s public knowledge you’re here.” Linus’s mask of good humor cracked, showing the glower underneath, but he shrugged and righted his expression almost immediately.
“You don’t like him?”
“I’d have no personal quarrel with him—if he wasn’t married to you,” Linus said. “How much longer, do you think, until Indigo finishes making refreshments?” It was a very obvious change in topics, but I wasn’t psyched with the idea of chatting to Linus about my relationship with Rigel, so I very gratefully accepted the switch.
“Probably in half an hour? She said she was going to make tea and enough scones and finger sandwiches for a Hobbit teatime,” I said. “She’ll let Chase know when she’s done. He’ll send the night mares over to the mansion to pick her up and bring her back here.”
A familiar rumble crashed through the castle, and my heart dropped to my toes.
No.
I tossed my broom aside and sprinted to the corner where my staff leaned against the wall. I swiped it up, then jumped through one of the empty windows and almost skidded out when I hit the patio.
I stared across the dead gardens and the shadowy realm—which was dimly lit by the silvery moon.
In the far distance I could see the ward that guarded our small realm, protecting it from the toxic miasma that had covered the fae realm since the elves had died out.
The ward was a beautiful pale yellow color that reminded me of a full moon…and it was flickering.
“The ward is failing!” I shouted.
The night mares screamed, and one of them—Solstice—appeared at the base of the patio stairs.
I rushed down the stairs as the fae around me started to panic, and I heard shouts of alarm from inside the castle.
I ignored the noise—I had to get to the ward as fast as possible and try to supplement it with my own power.
Solstice had thankfully maneuvered himself to the stairs as close as possible, making it easier to get on him—which was a bigger deal than it sounds like because he was the largest of my night mares.
I squirmed my way onto his back and arranged my staff the same way I had when chasing after Amaranth’s kidnappers—with the metal moon pressed against his neck and the staff crossing over his back in front of me so I could balance it on his flank.
Once I threaded my hands in his mane, I hunkered down. “Go! Let’s go!”
Solstice was off like a shot, barreling through the darkness of the Night Realm.
I hope he has better night vision than I do.
I already wasn’t thrilled about riding without a helmet or saddle, but doing that while essentially blind?
I hate this place!
I heard other hoofbeats and snorts. Peering through the night, I could see Twilight, Blue Moon, and Eclipse had joined us. Their pale yellow eyes made them easy to spot in the shadows of the realm.
I thought I heard the mournful call of Kevin or Steve behind us, and an angry scream from Whiskers or Muffin, but the glooms and shades didn’t stand a chance catching up with us when the night mares were booking it like this.
The wind whipped through my hair, and twigs and branches snagged on my clothes as Solstice galloped through the realm.
Clutching my staff and clinging to Solstice, I watched the sputtering barrier grow closer and closer.
Please hold on—just long enough for us to get there. This time I have my staff—I can hold the line!
Solstice bolted through a thicket of skeletal trees, and when we popped out on the other side the ward was so close we almost slammed into it.
Solstice whipped around, his hooves digging trenches in the ground, and barely avoided the magical barrier.
I slipped off his back as the other night mares joined us. Eclipse reared at the barrier and screamed at it, while Blue Moon snorted and pawed the ground and Twilight squealed.
Huge runes constructed the frame of the barrier, and pale magic stretched from symbol to symbol, forming a wall that should have been solid. But through the flickering magic, I could see the utter ruin on the other side of the barrier, where the ground was blackened, and not even dead grass remained.
The Night Realm was in pretty rough shape, but at least there still was some plant and animal life. On the other side of the barrier? There was only death.
Whether the magic was starting to fail because so many years had passed as the toxic waste on the other side wore away at it, or because magic was dying off, the wards weakened and needed to be supplemented to keep the toxic forces on the other side from getting in.
I hadn’t yet been able to stand my ground when the wards failed. Last time they’d weakened we’d lost acres of land.
But not this time. Now I have my staff, and I can channel my magic way faster. I’m going to stop it!
I slammed my staff into the ground and slapped my free hand onto the yellow barrier—which was warm and pulsed under my fingertips.
Magic poured through the staff and around me, and I channeled it into the barrier. What started as a splash of my purple magic on the yellow ward quickly became a flood.
I poured my magic so quickly into the sputtering runes I could see it gush down the length of the ward like river rapids.
Yes! I can do this! I can finally protect this place!
I breathed deeply and pushed more magic into the ward. The wall was now mostly purple as far as I could see…and I felt the barrier start to rumble under my palm.
“No, no, no! You can’t fail—how can you fail? Isn’t this enough?”
My staff filtered so much magic, it was turned hot. I pressed my body into the barrier, trying to feed it with even greater efficiency.
As the barrier rumbled against me, flickering despite my purple magic stretching out around the dome the ward made, my skin prickled from the contact.
I can’t charge the runes any faster than this. It’s physically impossible!
An arm sliced through my vision, and I screamed in shock.
Chapter Seventeen
Leila
It took me a few seconds to realize I recognized the arm—or rather I recognized the black sleeve and the bracer that covered the arm—and I peered up at Rigel’s face.
Gray magic spiraled out from his palm, and his dagger—one of the hidden ones from his bracers—glowed as he channeled magic through it.
Relief that I had help, that I wasn’t in this alone, coursed through my body. I dragged more magic from my staff, and poured more and more into the failing barrier.
How can it need so much? Is the barrier holding on by a thread?
My teeth rattled in my head as the ward pulsed, and my purple magic mixed with Rigel’s gray magic.
Come on! Work—please! We can’t lose any more ground!
The night mares screamed, the magic was turning my senses numb, and the barrier started flickering.
Rigel stepped away from the barrier and grabbed my wrist, dragging me after him.
; “No, we have to stop it!” I shouted.
“We can’t,” Rigel grimly said.
The wall started collapsing inward, and I cried as if my heart was being torn in two.
I failed again! How much land will we lose because of me?
Rigel dragged me through the trees as the ground trembled and the wall shrank, giving up precious feet to the toxic air on the other side.
The runes ground to a halt about halfway through the thicket of trees and glowed once again, reviving the barrier.
Waves of my purple magic still pulsed up and down the ward, and I was relieved the barrier hadn’t shrunk as much as it had the previous time.
But we still lost land—something we can’t afford.
My legs shook, and I abruptly sat down as I stared at the barrier, my failure eating away my gut.
Even with my staff—and after months of additional practice—I’d failed.
Is it me? Is it because I’m half fae that I’m not complete enough to hold it together?
Tears spilled from my eyes, tracing scorching paths down my cheeks, but I could only stare at the wall in a numb mixture of hopelessness and despair.
This is the one thing that matters most—to keep the realm functioning for my Court. They need to visit the Night Court to recharge their magic. But if I can’t hold on to the land…
My breath rattled, and I held in a sob.
Rigel finally released my wrist so I wasn’t holding it above my head, and I was dimly aware when Muffin and Whiskers arrived—they twined around me, purring deeply and pressing close.
Even as I threw my arms around Muffin’s neck, I felt like a poor imitation of a queen.
A real monarch would be able to protect their people.
But I had failed. Again.
Why? Why can’t I fix this? What is wrong with me? I could destroy my own Court if I don’t figure this out!
I blinked the tears away when I heard Skye shout. “Leila?”
“Here,” I croaked.
I made myself stand up, but I couldn’t even look at Rigel or any of the night mares.
Rigel didn’t say anything. He sheathed his dagger and stepped back into the shadows.
I ran my fingers through Muffin’s greasy fur as I tried to figure out how I was going to tell Skye—who had stood beside me since my second day as queen—that I’d failed the Court, and her.
I didn’t think my misery could get any worse that day.
How naïve.
In an attempt to do something useful instead of just mope for the rest of the day—which was what I was likely going to do otherwise—I finally went through some of the books Skye had gathered in my study for me—the ones I’d asked her to gather about past monarchs and anything that might talk about the magic that made our realm work.
I dragged a stack of the books out to the stables for a more comfortable reading experience. Yes, I made sure I only took copies, I didn’t want Skye guzzling a bottle of antacids, after all.
I dragged one of the shades’ many beds in front of Fax’s and Eclipse’s stalls.
Barbra, Larry, and Bob piled around me. Even though it was still icy cold, I was quite warm in the heated barn with the warm shades curled around me.
I absently petted Bob as I turned a page in my book.
Most of them were about specific fae monarchs, which meant I had to go through them individually because apparently, although the fae were willing to make picture books about manners and Court life, no one had thought to write a handy guide to monarchs and their magic.
I did find a tiny book in the stack that talked about half fae. It was about the size of my hand and laughably thin, and whoever wrote it was full of fae superiority to the point that everything they wrote came off really condescending and was pretty much useless.
“…inferior blood lines of any half fae greatly reduces their potential power base, due to the dilution of fae blood. They are significantly less skilled in magic, often are not even capable of creating a basic glamour and—perhaps the greatest illustration of their middling power—will not have fae wings, even if one of their parents is noble born, however unlikely it is that a noble would lower themselves to such a union…” I stopped reading to stare at the book.
“Woah—talk about being seriously pompous and all around awful,” I said.
I read the line again—because being mad at a long dead pompous fae for being unbelievably rude was a lot easier than thinking of how I’d lost land in the Night Realm. Again.
My eyes ached from crying, but I read on, carefully turning a page when I got to the end of the paragraph.
I skimmed over lines and started flipping through pages, hoping for something more specific.
I’d already known half fae didn’t have wings, that wasn’t a shocker. But I wanted to find out if there was something that was holding me back from fully powering the wards.
I had a lot of magic—the staff made that part easy—but I didn’t think magic practice was going to improve things very much.
If I could figure out the problem, though, I’d be able to overcome it.
“Half fae are weak, blah, blah, blah, half fae can’t compare to a full blooded fae, blah, blah, blah. Ugh, this guy doesn’t say anything helpful ever!”
I shut the book and tossed it onto my “already read it” pile.
I rubbed my forehead, then grabbed a new book from the tall stack. “What do we have here? The history of the First Night King—ewwww.”
I nearly flung it back on the pile, but as much as I hated the guy, I doubted it would be any worse than the small book written by the half-fae-hater.
“I should be able to skim this one, anyway. Skye made me read so many books about this guy. What do you think, Fax?” I peered up at the glittering sun stallion.
He draped his neck over his stall door and affectionately lipped the top of my head.
I reached up and brushed his cheek, then settled down to flip through the book, smiling when Bob wriggled around and rested his giant head on my lap.
In flipping through the book, I discovered it was a jumble of journal entries and personal letters from fae who were alive when the original Night King ruled and was in the process of passing a bunch of his stupid/supposedly power checking laws. It even included several personal letters written by the Original Creep himself.
The back half of the book was basically one long hero-worshipping summary written by a scholar about a century ago, who clearly had a thing for the long dead Original Creep.
“This looks like the typical stuff Skye made me memorize—some very thin explanations for some of his more idiotic laws, fangirling over his personal life, blah, blah, blah. Oh, this might be new. Here, listen to this.”
I stroked Bob’s head, and across the aisle from me, my night mares listened with perked ears.
“Ahem. ‘Because of the Original King’s hard work, the Night Court was one of the best positioned Courts in the world—and most certainly in the northern hemisphere—when the elves died out and their magic was lost to the world. It is only because of the structure he left as his legacy that the fae Courts survived as well as they have…’ Yeah, right. What a joke!” I shook my head in disgust. “If his laws helped, why did the fae turn on one another? Plus the author never actually mentions which of his laws were helpful. Delusional, I’m telling you guys.”
Barbra groaned and stood up, turned in a circle about five times, then sat down again, leaning against my outstretched leg.
“Let’s see what else they try to justify, shall we?” I asked Eclipse as she hung her head over her stall door and breathed her sulphureous breath at me. “Skip, skip, skip—oh, this oughtta be rich. ‘Although curious at first glance, the Original King’s requirement of marriage before a monarch could be crowned is genius. It keeps the monarch from manipulating the members of their Court in hopes of achieving matrimony, and it exists so the monarch might have a chance of marrying for true love.’ In what way does it help true love? Y
ou basically have to get hitched within a few months of finding out you’re the next monarch. As if you can fall in true love that fast!”
Bob nosed me, so I continued. “Oh—the delusions keep on going! ‘The marriage rule combined with the decision that the night mares select the next ruler made the Night Court one of the most progressive Courts of its time because the monarch could marry outside the Court—or possibly even marry a different type of supernatural or a human. This was—and continues to be—disallowed by all Courts that have direct lines of inheritance because any half fae will lack the necessary magic and connection to fully support a realm.’”
I paused and reread the sentence.
Wait, marrying anyone besides a fae wasn’t allowed by Courts that have lines of inheritance…because half fae lack the magic and connection to fully support a realm.
A chunk of ice formed in my gut, and the cold spread from there, making my blood freeze and turning my lips numb.
“Does that mean…the Night Realm will never recover? Because of me?”
I reread the sentence about a dozen times, then read the whole page before doubling back and reading the paragraph.
There was nothing more about a half fae’s inability to become a monarch than that one throw away sentence.
I had never heard of a half fae ruler before I was crowned. Maybe this is why.
I set the book aside and yanked my phone from the pocket of my jacket, my fingers shaking so badly I fumbled and almost dropped my phone on Bob’s head.
I hurriedly found the Paragon’s phone number and called him.
Since I hadn’t heard from him since Amaranth’s kidnapping he was probably still trying to wring information out of that mysterious contact of his, but I needed to know.
“Come on,” I whispered as the phone rang. “Pick up!”
The phone clicked, and his voicemail message blasted in my ear.
I hung up, and tried dialing again, and again.
Anxiety clawed at my throat, and I was starting to shake as I realized just how bad this was.
If the book was right, I’d never be able to stop the wards from failing, and the Night Realm would never change from the awful state it was currently in.
