The Queen's Crown (Court of Midnight and Deception Book 3)

by K. M. Shea

  Will the runes hold?

  I studied the magical markings that were burned into the ward. They glowed brighter now, and for a moment I dared to hope.

  The barrier didn’t lean into my palms as heavily, and my chest twisted painfully as I stared at the runes.

  They shimmered with magic…until they winked out.

  “No!” I shouted.

  Again I felt the barrier sputter under my hands. I was shoved back against Rigel’s chest.

  We braced ourselves and pushed against it, but I could feel the cracks in the ward.

  It was going to fail.

  Dimly, I heard screaming. It was hard to hear over the snarls and howls of my animals, but it was a pretty unique sound because it sounded like—

  Skye—her perfect clothes ruffled—appeared next to Rigel and me and slapped her hand on the barrier, adding her magic to ours.

  I gaped at her, but before I could ask anything, Indigo scrambled to our other side and placed her hand on the barrier.

  “W-what are you two doing?” I shouted.

  “Supporting our Sovereign,” Indigo yelled.

  “And friend,” Skye added.

  “And daughter!” Linus winked over Indigo as he appeared at her side, wielding his dice and dagger artifacts.

  An enormous brown wolf with gray markings appeared next to Skye—Chase!—and Chrysanthe joined him, her magic glowing at her finger tips and—strangely—her throat.

  Off to the side, a golden gate shot out of the ground, and Fax, Bagel, Solis, Fell, the Paragon, Rime, Verdant, and Birch piled out the door.

  “We’re here!” Fell shouted. “We’ll…” he trailed off, his face pinched with confusion.

  I felt countless different magics pour into the ward—a rainstorm of unique sensations as each magic swirled within mine.

  What the—?

  “Night Court!” When Chrysanthe shouted, her magic amplified her voice. It echoed across the open field and reverberated in my bones. “What do we say?”

  “IT’S FINE!”

  The response started as a soft whisper and bloomed into a roar that shook the ground with more force than the failing ward.

  I struggled in Rigel’s arms, stepping away from him for a moment as I actually turned around and looked.

  As far as I could see, members of my Court pressed against the wall. Each one of them—from the pixies to the trolls to the nobles—channeled their magic into the ward.

  Sirens shouted their songs as gnomes yelled their battle cries. Satyrs charged the barrier and brownies wielding brooms smacked it. Not too far away, Eventide and Azure shouted with Dusk and Dawn as they braced their backs against the ward and pushed all the magic they had into the barrier.

  Water blasted out of the lake, and I saw the nine-headed hydra raise its enormous heads above the tree line. All nine heads roared, and—as powerful as it was—I felt the hydra slam its essence across the lake and woods, its unique magic flowing into the ward.

  The barrier was now a myriad of colors, flickering like a rainbow as each member of my Court channeled their magic.

  For a moment it was overwhelming. All of my Court was assembled and pushing their magic into the ward, and I could feel each unique signature.

  It made my brain itch, and the experience was so strong I couldn’t even see.

  “Night Court!” Chrysanthe shouted, her voice echoing over all the yells.

  As one, my Court roared again. “IT’S FINE!”

  In that moment, something changed. I took a breath, and I felt it: the Night Realm.

  I could feel the dark swirl of magic that was the lake to the immovable and ancient sensation of the crumbled palace. The stars in the sky dotted my heart, and each breath the members of my Court took was a puff of air against my skin. I could feel the magic—tired and thin—that drifted across the famished ground.

  Most of all, I was aware of the gap that lay between the realm and me…and of the hundreds of small links of magic, formed by the members of my Court, bridging that gap.

  Unity.

  I’d felt it before, when fighting the spiders, but this was on a wholly different level.

  This was every citizen of my Court, coming together despite their differences. Not to be uniform clones of one another that agreed on everything, or to be a flawless mass that moved robotically under my control.

  No, this was the unity of a thousand hearts beating as one, the sound of a thousand voices raised in harmony, the binding of a thousand fae who’d fight together.

  Because apart, we were lost.

  And in that moment, I knew that this was how the Courts were supposed to be.

  My magic tore across this new pathway. When my powers, supported by my Court, touched the realm, something in me ignited.

  I yelled as I felt the realm’s magic wrap around me. Something hot stretched across my back, and magic filled my eyes so I could only see a silvery light.

  Later, Indigo would tell me that I grew wings, forged out of the realm’s magic. My wings weren’t traditional, but rather the idea of wings—an artist’s rendition. Enormous and intangible, they stretched up from my shoulders and jutted into the sky. They were made of silvery light—like the moon and stars—and were comprised of roughly a dozen bold slashes that looked vaguely like feathers, but were too sharp and too vast.

  Silver magic encircled my feet, and my eyes and staff glowed.

  Instinct made me raise my staff. I don’t know if it was the realm or the hearts of my Court, but I fearlessly stabbed my staff through the ward.

  The magic that swirled in the barrier burst, and the ward slammed backwards, traveling over fields, woods, rivers, ponds, and acres and acres of land.

  Miles of land passed, before I felt the new limit of the ward, and I planted my staff in the dirt, grounding the barrier.

  The runes in the ward burned with a silvery light, then hardened.

  The rainbow streaked magic my Court and I had poured onto the ward stayed, but the pale yellow magic that had initially forged the barrier melted from the wall.

  It poured across the land, erasing the scars the toxic miasma had left behind.

  As I watched, barren land became green. Plants—whole forests—sprouted and grew.

  Slowly, the magic crawled across the ground, healing every place it touched.

  My stomach flopped in my gut, and I scrambled onto Eclipse’s back, nearly falling off the other side when I held my staff awkwardly.

  I squeezed Eclipse, and she took off, galloping across the ground, staying ahead of the wave.

  We reached the edge of a field that gave us the perfect view of the desolate Night Palace, and I held my breath as the magic slowly swept behind us, sprouting tiny purple and white flowers as everything from huge pines to immense maple trees thrust out of the ground.

  I waited impatiently, dimly aware when Rigel, Skye, Linus, Chrysanthe, Indigo, and dozens of others joined us in the field.

  Slowly, the pale yellow magic crawled across the broken castle, draping over it like a blanket. When the magic moved on, the palace was perfect and gleaming.

  The stone archways and body of the palace looked new, and were sculpted with moon and star statues perched on the backs of stone horses. The arched windows that were multiple stories tall were perfect and whole, and glass lanterns bigger than me hung from the peaks of the roof, casting light on the gardens—which grew green as fountains burst with water.

  The magic—having closed in from all sides—swirled around the gardens for a moment.

  That was when Eclipse started to glow.

  I scrambled off her back, staggering when I realized that all the night mares, glooms, and shades that had followed me to the field were bathed in the pale yellow magic—their features completely covered.

  The shades leapt out first, their long muzzles raised as they howled, and their tails wagging like crazy.

  They still had their wolf-like shape, but their fur was no longer shadowy or tarry. Instead
it was the deep, purple-blue of the night sky, and soft as silk. Silver markings shaped like stars and the moon adorned their backs and flanks, and some of them had silver paws or silver tipped tails. Their eyes glowed—but it was the warm silvery color of stars, and they looked lean but healthy, no longer skeletal or diseased.

  The glooms—their voices still warbly like complaining goblins—burst out of the magic next.

  Their once patchy coats were thick and luxurious—and a blinding white. Faint gray and yellow dapples were brushed into their coats, and bled across the tops of their ears so they looked like tiny crescent moons. They didn’t pant anymore, and their eyes were a beautiful soft yellow—like the full moon.

  Last to emerge were the night mares—my beautiful terrors.

  They were perhaps the most shocking transformation of all, going from the skeletal nags to—to my extreme delight—unicorns.

  They were bigger than the white unicorns I’d seen pictures of, and their coats were more of a dazzling silver color than pure white.

  Some—like Comet and Blue Moon—had faint dapples on their flanks and backs. All of them had black hooves and socks that streaked up their legs.

  Eclipse’s black stockings brushed her lower belly and chest, whereas Twilight’s barely covered his hooves. Solstice’s mane was as black as night and cut short in a mohawk, and Nebula’s was more of a creamy flaxen color with glittering strands of gold mixed in that draped down past her neck.

  A black horn adorned each night mare’s forehead, and their eyes were now a dark blue spattered with flecks of yellow that resembled miniature galaxies.

  The night mares snorted at one another as the shades sniffed each other, and then went and nosed the glooms.

  I sat down hard when Steve wandered up to me and licked my hands, her silvery front paws glowing under the purple night sky.

  “I never thought I’d see it.” The Paragon crouched next to me. Although he petted Steve, he watched the night mares with awe. “Their original form. It’s…”

  “Beautiful,” I said.

  “And it’s because of you,” the Paragon said.

  I shook my head. “No. The realm—the night mares—would have stayed broken forever under my reign. My Court did this. They connected me to the realm.” I flexed my fingers on my staff and gazed back at the ward. “I can’t even feel the realm now that the ward has stabilized. But I can feel my Court’s magic, and I know they did this.”

  Members of my Court tottered across the field, crying and laughing as they pointed to the restored palace, the healthy shades and glooms, and the glowing night mares.

  Rigel offered me his hands. When my fingers brushed his palms, he pulled me to my feet. “They did this because they believe in you,” Rigel said. “We believe in you.”

  I smiled and leaned into him. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Rigel said nothing. He wrapped his arms around me, and held me—safe in his arms.

  Fell stomped past us, frowning first at the shades, then at the night mares. “I don’t believe it,” he complained. “First she gets her people cooing over her, now she’s changed the night mares—which have been ugly nags for decades!”

  He’d wandered close to Comet. The beautiful mare pinned her ears, then abruptly lunged at him, screaming a challenge, and for a moment her silvery body flickered, and the savage black coated horse she had been returned.

  Fell yelped and stumbled backwards.

  “Idiot,” Rime commented.

  “Just because their package looks nicer doesn’t mean they’re any less dangerous,” Birch said.

  Fell scoffed, but I grinned in delight—weirdly happy that underneath all the glitz, my untamed night mares remained.

  “Still think I’m crazy about the possibility you could be a fae empress?” the Paragon asked.

  I rolled my eyes and got prepared to set him straight.

  “Look!” Indigo’s voice was urgent, making me forget all about the Paragon’s silly ideas, as she pointed to the east horizon.

  The horizon line was orange, and the beautiful blue-black of the night sky retreated as light streaked across the horizon.

  I was afraid to breathe—afraid to hope.

  And then, for the first time in decades, the sun rose in the Night Realm.

  It cast its golden light on the newly restored palace and grounds, scooting in behind the paleness of night and wrapping the realm in a warm embrace.

  As I melted into Rigel’s chest, I saw Lady Demetria—Chrysanthe’s battleaxe of a grandmother—cry so hard a naiad rushed to support her.

  Lord Iason fell to his knees as he stared at the sun, his eyes glistening with tears. One of the trolls actually sobbed, while a few mermaids and sirens greeted the sun with a song.

  “The endless night is over,” Indigo whispered.

  “Long live the night,” Skye added.

  As my Court laughed and cried, I was content to lean into Rigel and watch the sun rise.

  Chapter Thirty

  Leila

  Roughly two weeks later, I happily crawled into bed—Rigel’s bed to be precise—smug and happy.

  Rigel finished loading bullets into the third magazine he had spread out on the coffee table in front of him. “You’re going to bed already?”

  “Yes!”

  “It’s barely ten pm.”

  I plumped up one of the pillows and happily sighed when I thumped my head down on it and sank deeper into the bed. “Do you have any idea how many hours—no—nights of sleep I have missed out on between my anxiety about the Court and my paranoia of getting assassinated? The answer is: So. Many.”

  Rigel watched as he slipped the filled magazines into the various pockets on his Wraith coat.

  “As far as I’m concerned, I’m months behind on my sleep,” I continued. “And now that I can finally sleep and not have my brain keeping me up until the wee hours of the morning, I’m going to sleep until I’m sick of it.”

  “I see. And you’ve decided my room is the better setting for sleep?” Rigel asked.

  “Yes!” I burrowed into his bed and sighed happily.

  Whiskers poked his silvery-white head onto the top of the mattress and purred at me. I dug my hand out from underneath the covers to tickle his chin.

  “I’m honored,” Rigel wryly said. “But if that cat tries to sleep on the bed again, I’m going to lock him in the bathroom.”

  “Did you hear that, Whiskers? No sleeping on the bed,” I told the male gloom.

  Whiskers purred deep in his throat and meandered away, climbing onto the couch instead.

  Rigel finished arming himself, then sauntered up to the bed. He sat on my side of the mattress, cocking an eyebrow when he saw how I’d burrowed down into the blankets.

  “It has not escaped my notice that you showed the entire Court your wings,” Rigel said.

  I stifled a yawn. “Yeah? It’s not like they were really my wings. I don’t have any,” I pointed out. “The Paragon said they were part of the power pack I got when the Court unified behind me.” I frowned.

  “You don’t believe him?”

  “I do. I just don’t know that I buy the whole ‘Fae Emperor,’ or empress if we want to be correct,” I said. “I mean, I still don’t have a connection with the land—which means I can’t hold the wards without the Court around to juice me up. I’m just a half fae. I don’t have the possibility to become that powerful.”

  Rigel shrugged. “The position of Fae Emperor isn’t about power,” he said.

  I squawked. “What are you talking about? Of course it’s about power! They’re the most powerful fae ruler of their continent!”

  “Yes, but they’re powerful because the other Courts believe in them and follow them—that’s why they’re so rare,” Rigel said. “Isn’t it similar to how you are powerful because the Night Court has chosen to follow you?”

  “Yeah…but that’s because they’re my Court. The other Courts are never going to bow to me. I don’t think it’s worth
it to even worry about.”

  Rigel’s lips twitched in a smile.

  “You disagree?” I guessed.

  “I think we have time,” Rigel said. “Even you can’t sway the world in just a few months. Two or three decades is far more plausible.”

  I snorted and almost inhaled a fuzzy from the fleece blanket I’d spread on top of Rigel’s comforter for maximum warmth. “Yeah, okay.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not gonna hold my breath. And in the meantime, I have enough trouble on my hands with the Regional Committee of Magic.”

  Rigel draped an arm over my waist. “You mean you and Hazel have enough to do with the Regional Committee’s need to be whipped into shape.”

  “Hey, it’s not our fault the meetings last forever and Killian employs stalling and intimidation tactics just to annoy us.”

  “I’m fairly certain you and Hazel are the only ones who are annoyed. Elite Bellus and Pre-Dominant Harka are rightfully cowed.”

  “Mmm.” The warmth of the bed was starting to work its magic. My eyes felt heavy as I shut them and scooted closer to Rigel.

  “I still find it reprehensible that you showed your wings to the entire Night Court,” Rigel said.

  I snorted and kept my eyes shut. “What, are you studying for the SAT test? And we already covered this—they aren’t really my wings. They don’t reveal anything about me—although I guess it’s not like I’ve ever been anything less than myself with the Court.”

  “Indeed. They’ve known for some time that you are a troublemaker who delights in horrifying her Court.”

  “Pffft, why stop at horrifying? Let’s go for terror!”

  Rigel brushed some of my hair off my cheek, and I struggled not to purr like one of my glooms.

  It’s the moments like this that make me deliriously happy.

  My Court was safe, no one was trying to kill me anymore, and Rigel cared for me as best he could given his circumstances.