Seven Black Diamonds

by Melissa Marr

  Rhys had followed the queen silently when they left the rest of his friends, as if the queen’s very glance told him all he needed to know. It struck Zephyr then that this was his lot in life: to live or die at her whim, to always be attentive to her will, to know that her attention would never waver. Short of death, there was no reprieve. Up until this day, he realized, he’d held some measure of hope, some glimmer of a dream that there was another future possible.

  That hope had just died.

  The queen led them to a small room inside a palace that looked to be carved of the cliff itself. The floor inside the room was as white as bone. Swords and other weapons were mounted on the walls. The weapons and a diminutive throne of wood and vine were the only things inside the room.

  Endellion settled on the throne as it seemed to reshape around her. Rhys walked to stand at her side, not quite behind her this time.

  “So you know,” she said.

  It wasn’t exactly a question, but Zephyr still answered, “That Rhys is my . . . biological father? Yes.”

  “No.” She waved his words away and clarified, “That I am your grandmother.”

  “I do,” Zephyr said as emotionlessly as he could. He walked closer to the queen and stopped directly in front of her. He wasn’t as afraid as he’d been when he’d kneeled before her and offered her a necklace wrought of his own blood, but he wasn’t so foolish as to assume that she was suddenly harmless.

  “Do you no longer wish to be Unseelie then? You sound less thrilled than I would expect given our earlier meeting.” Endellion’s tone wasn’t exactly mocking, but it was a near thing.

  “You knew when I came here before,” Zephyr half asked, half stated.

  The queen looked not at him, but to her side where Rhys stood as she replied, “I’ve always known. Family matters more than anything in either world. My son, my once-heir, had a child. I knew that my grandson would be loyal to me.” She turned her head to fix Zephyr in her gaze again. “I’ve always known who you were, Zephyr. I’ve known what you were doing, and I’ve done what was necessary to have you trained as best you could be while in that world.”

  Zephyr nodded. There wasn’t much else to do. The most feared being in both worlds was the head of his family. A darkly ludicrous thought of confessing childhood misdeeds flitted through his mind. Somehow, he doubted that Endellion was as tolerant of his “boyish mistakes” as his mom had been. His mother was indulgent. The Queen of Blood and Rage wasn’t known for being . . . tender.

  “What would you have of him?” Rhys asked, interrupting the silence and drawing the queen’s gaze back to him.

  “I want him to do as he’s always done, be my eyes, be an instrument of my will.” Endellion smiled at Zephyr and prompted, “Are you my subject?”

  He dropped to both knees without pause and bowed his head. “Without doubt or disobedience.”

  “No matter what tasks I order?” she continued.

  A trickle of dread slid over Zephyr. He kept his head bowed, but lifted his eyes to his queen as he swore, “I am yours to command. That is unchanged.”

  For a long moment, no word was spoken. He stayed on his knees, and his eyes didn’t waver. He’d wanted this, her approval, for years. He’d wanted to belong, to matter. The things he’d expected and prepared for had changed, but Zephyr was still filled with the longing he’d always felt.

  “I would give you a boon,” Endellion offered. “A token from the head of your family to show my pleasure in your service.”

  Zephyr shook his head slightly. “Serving you is enough.”

  She laughed, not mockingly but in what seemed to be honest amusement. “There will be tasks aplenty, and those who will test you for who you now are. My husband’s sons often attempt to kill Rhys.” Endellion gifted Rhys with a look of undeniable pride. “He is second only to me in his swordsmanship. He will train you.”

  “As you wish,” Rhys murmured.

  “I don’t often bestow blessings, Zephyr. Speak,” the queen asked.

  “Alkamy,” he blurted.

  “Oh?” The queen tilted her head and studied him, and Zephyr knew that he’d said the wrong thing. After all of his efforts to keep Alkamy safe, he’d just put her too much in the queen’s attention by asking for her.

  “Her safety,” he added quickly, trying to lessen the weight of his revelation. “She’s my best friend and a trusted member of the team. She thinks clearly, and her ability to plan—”

  “You are requesting that she is kept safer than the rest of my Sleepers,” the queen prompted, her voice completely emotionless in the way that only true fae can manage.

  Zephyr swallowed before he could reply. “Yes.”

  “You feel for her.”

  “She’s my best friend,” he hedged.

  Endellion stood. “I will grant you this boon, Grandson.” She stepped close to him, her feet almost touching his bent knees. “You may also mate with the girl for now. I have plans that will require your involvement, but . . . I will spare her from further missions if possible.”

  At her words, Zephyr was both terrified and relieved. Being told one was a part of Endellion’s plans wasn’t something that anyone could hear without feeling afraid. However, Alkamy was . . . if not safe, then safer. For now, that was more than a fine trade-off.

  “May I ask who fathered her?”

  Endellion cupped the side of his face. “You may not.”

  He wanted to bow his head again, but she held fast.

  “I will treat you above those who are not my blood, but that requires that you earn my respect, Zephyr.”

  “I will do my best,” he swore.

  The Queen of Blood and Rage patted his cheek like he was a pet, and then she stepped past him and strode to the door.

  Rhys followed in her wake again, grabbing Zephyr by the elbow and hauling him to his feet in a fluid movement. They reached the door to the room again, but as Endellion reached to open it, the door flung inward.

  In a fraction of a moment, both Rhys and Endellion had drawn swords. Zephyr fumbled, having no weapon of his own.

  Rhys shoved him toward the wall of weapons with a terse, “Arms.”

  Zephyr was only two steps away from his father, when the queen’s voice snapped, “What were you thinking coming in here without notice? I could’ve stab—”

  “I was thinking that time was crucial,” the newcomer answered.

  Zephyr glanced back at them. The queen still had her sword unsheathed, as did Rhys. His, however, was pointed at the floor. The queen kept hers upraised.

  The newcomer gestured at Zephyr and said, “You won’t need a sword, boy.”

  Zephyr looked—not to Rhys—but to the queen.

  She rewarded him with a flicker of approval in her irritated expression before saying, “Get a weapon, Zephyr. You should always be armed.”

  He wanted to point out that she was why he was unarmed, but that served no purpose beyond easing his pride. Instead, he did as he was told, selecting a longsword from the wall and pulling it down. Then he went to stand on the opposite side of the queen, so he and Rhys flanked her.

  Zephyr had a good suspicion as to the identity of the faery who’d entered the queen’s throne room. He was a massive man, tall and striking, with skin so dark that he was clearly Seelie. Currently, he took them all in with a bemused expression and said, “I mean Endellion no harm . . . these days. Isn’t that right, dearest?”

  The Queen of Blood and Rage was glaring at him.

  He ignored her and added, “She’s still not the easiest woman to be around, but she is my wife.”

  “Fool,” the queen muttered. “Again, I say, what are you doing here?”

  “My sons have vanished,” Leith, the once-king of the Seelie and now co-ruler of the Hidden Lands with Endellion, said.

  “And you think our granddaughter is with them, I assume,” Endellion added.

  Leith nodded once. “She is.”

  Zephyr wanted to ask why the king didn’t g
o after his sons then, why he didn’t rescue Lilywhite, but questioning either of the regents seemed foolhardy at best. Getting out without bloodshed was always the goal when it came to dealing with the fae.

  “My patience is at an end with them.” Endellion stepped around the king, her husband, and strode forward without another word to any of them.

  Rhys followed her silently.

  Zephyr paused. His queen hadn’t ordered him to go or to stay, and truth be told, he would be of little use in a conflict with fighters of her caliber.

  The king sighed. “Come on then. She’s liable to kill them if I’m not there, and that son of hers isn’t much on caution either.”

  “He’s . . . my father,” Zephyr said, not quite defending Rhys but feeling like he should say something.

  “Of course he is,” Leith said cheerily. “My wife has particular plans for the offspring of that experiment. Why do you think all of you are together?”

  Zephyr gaped at him.

  “The get of those she hand-selected were all put in your team, Zephyr. She made sure that you commanded the highest born—the very best.”

  Then the king sauntered off, whistling cheerily as if they weren’t headed toward violence, as if he hadn’t dropped a giant revelation on Zephyr, as if all of this was somehow mundane.

  Dazedly, Zephyr followed. He wasn’t sure if the Seelie King was any less frightening than the Unseelie Queen. At least with Endellion, there was no confusion as to whether or not she was livid. Zephyr couldn’t honestly tell if the king was happy or insane.

  thirty-three

  LILY

  Lily paced around the damp cave where they’d been imprisoned, assessing the situation as best she could. Both Torquil and Creed were injured, but she and Violet were fine. It was as if the two Seelie fae outside the cave had forgotten that the most ruthless faery in history was a woman. Lily might not aspire to the ferocity of her grandmother, but she had Endellion’s blood in her veins and Daidí’s teaching in her mind.

  Although she wasn’t sure what she was going to do, Lily knew there wasn’t long to figure it out. Torquil’s wound wouldn’t stop oozing blood, and he was drifting in and out of consciousness. Creed appeared to have no permanent damage, but she’d learned many years ago that internal bleeding wasn’t always obvious. Violet was uninjured so far, and Lily was . . . being threatened with marriage. That wasn’t going to happen, not as long as she had any breath left in her.

  In the world Lily had known until now, marriages could be dissolved. Divorces were possible, and if that was a problem for some reason, she knew that Daidí would happily remove any unwanted husband in a more permanent way. Unfortunately, Lily suspected that marriage to a Seelie prince, one who lived for a virtual eternity and presumably couldn’t be killed without massive consequences, was a bit more complicated. She simply could not, would not, allow herself to be forcibly wed—especially to Nacton.

  Her only fae advisor was not of much use currently, and Violet and Creed looked to her for answers. So that left Lily to figure out what to do. First problems first. She needed everyone alive.

  Torquil was flat on his back with a handful of moss clutched to his wound. Violet squatted at his side with a pile of moss that she’d collected. There had been precious little of it, but Lily had coaxed it into growing larger for their purposes.

  “Well?”

  Violet looked up at her and shook her head. “It’s not slowing at all. If he keeps bleeding—”

  “So stop the bleeding,” Torquil interrupted in a broken voice. “You’re fire. You can stop it for me.”

  “You want me to . . . burn you?”

  “To cauterize the wound. It makes sense,” Lily told her gently.

  Violet gaped at her. “So I can burn the good faery, but not the ones who attacked us? What kind of plan is—”

  “The only one we have.” Torquil opened his eyes and looked at her. “I know you mean me no harm, Violet Lamb, and I need your help.”

  He pressed the moss tighter to his side. It was already thick with blood; the dirt turned to red mud and dripped down to pool on the ground beside Torquil.

  “Will you help me?” he asked her softly.

  Lily considered telling Violet what she suspected of their true relationship, but she wasn’t sure if that would help Violet or make her more hesitant to do what he was asking.

  Torquil looked at her and shook his head once. Did he somehow know what she was contemplating?

  “What?” Violet said. “I saw that. What was it? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Can you do it or do I need to try to grow the moss again?” Lily snapped.

  Violet didn’t reply. She looked over at Creed, who was trying to push to his feet. He stumbled toward them.

  “Please, Vi. I need you to do this,” Lily said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Violet whispered. Then she brought both hands down on Torquil’s bloodied side. With one hand, she jerked the moss away, and with the other, she cupped fire onto his flesh.

  Torquil screamed, a horrible raw sound that was more animal than Lily had thought a voice could be, and then he passed out. Violet turned away and vomited as soon as she pulled her hand away.

  Creed lifted her with his good arm and pulled her to his side.

  Lily couldn’t look at them though, couldn’t stand seeing Creed hobble away on his broken leg or Violet sobbing after searing a wound. Torquil’s skin was sizzling like meat on a grill, and Lily had to pull moisture from the air to cool and wash it. She couldn’t draw as much as she wanted because they would need water to drink if they were left here too long, but she washed the blood away so that she could see that the gash was closed, and then she covered it with clean moss and earth to sooth the ache.

  Once she’d done all she could, she walked over to Violet and said, “Thank you.”

  Violet wiped her mouth. “What didn’t he want you to say?”

  “It’s not my—”

  “I did as you and he asked,” Violet cut her off harshly. “Tell me, LilyDark.”

  “Look at him carefully, Vi,” Creed interjected, as he leaned against the wall. “He was there on the night we were all made.”

  Violet stared at him and then glanced at the fae she’d just burned. It didn’t take but a heartbeat for her to see it, but she still objected. “He’s not . . .” She pursed her lips, not able to utter the lie now that she saw it. “What affinity?”

  “Fire,” Lily said quietly.

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Violet said, but her gaze was fixed on Torquil. It wouldn’t take long for her to admit the truth.

  Lily looked at Creed. He shook his head.

  “She’ll be fine,” Creed murmured as Violet walked back over to Torquil and sat at his side.

  “Assuming we walk away from this.”

  “Yes. Assuming that.” Creed stroked her cheek with his fingertips.

  Lily exhaled loudly. “You seem fine with this . . . Honestly, between you and Zeph, I’m starting to feel like it’s odd not to be okay with dying.” She scowled at Creed. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Creed said lightly. “What do we do then?”

  At that, Lily’s burst of confidence fled. “I don’t know. We’re unarmed. Torquil is . . . I just don’t know.” She met Creed’s eyes and confessed, “I don’t know what to do.”

  Creed reached out for her hand and squeezed it. He didn’t offer empty words. He simply held on to her hand.

  After a moment, Lily squeezed back and said, “Come on.”

  They walked over to Violet, who was still staring at the seemingly unconscious fae. She glanced up at them briefly. “He looks our age. It’s weird to think of my mom and—”

  “As I understand it, children aren’t to think of their parents mating,” Torquil said, eyes still closed.

  Lily let out a relieved sigh that he was alert. She crouched down and checked the bright red wound. The burned skin was warm, but there was
no new blood.

  “So, you’re my father?” Violet prompted.

  Torquil opened his eyes. “I believe so. The queen . . . gave me reason to think that I am. I thought it best not to mention it before you—”

  “Burned you?” Violet shrugged. “If you don’t die, we can fight about it. Then you can buy me a pony or something.”

  “A pony?” Torquil glanced at Lily and Creed. “Is this a human custom? Like the goat?”

  Before they could answer, Violet said, “So since Dad isn’t bleeding out, what do you say we get out of here?”

  “Nacton and Calder are full fae who have trained longer than you’ve lived, and I am . . . unwell,” Torquil objected. “You are not a match for them on your own.”

  Violet simply stared at Lily and waited. They needed a plan. Unfortunately, Lily hadn’t come up with one—and she had no idea how long they had before their captors came back.

  “Vi’s right. If we stay, you’ll die. All of you.” Lily pulled her hair back into a twist. “Our options are escape, die trying, or die by not trying.”

  “Easy choices, as far as I’m concerned.” Creed looked at her. “I pledged myself to you once, Lily. I can say it again if you need, but the reality is that if you need me to buy you time to escape, I’ll gladly do so.” He gestured to Torquil. “I won’t have him or Vi doing it.”

  “Back up, boy.” Violet’s temper finally sparked, setting off a mini light show in the dark cavern. “One of us can set fires to idiots, and one of us sings pretty songs. Guess which is more useful?”

  “He can do a bit more than that,” Lily pointed out. “Part of working with air means stopping it too.”

  For a second, Violet stared at him as she processed what that meant practically. “Suffocation. That’s good. We can use that.”

  Creed winced. While he was apparently fine with being injured, he seemed less so with injuring anyone. That, more than anything, told her that he was Seelie. Despite the evidence given by the Seelie princes, the Seelie as a whole were the more gentle court—not by huge measures, but enough to draw the distinction.

  “He could feed your fire,” Torquil suggested to Violet. “If he’s adept enough to suffocate with his affinity, he’s good enough to be your aid as you attack.”