by Bekah Harris
Finally, a face blurred in front of her and took shape.
Jules.
Her mouth was moving, but it was difficult to concentrate on what she was saying.
Finally, Jules grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her violently. Ardan reached out to pull Jules away, but suddenly, the ringing subsided and the world became real once more.
“It’s okay,” Ivy said.
She stepped away from Ardan and pulled Jules into an embrace.
“Are you okay?” Ivy asked her.
“Of course, I’m okay,” Jules blurted. “The question everyone in this room has been asking is: Are you okay?”
Ivy considered this.
Am I okay?
“No,” she answered. She shook her head. “Definitely no.”
But she also knew that she couldn’t afford to dwell on the fact the mother she had known only a few weeks had been stolen from her. She had just inherited an entire kingdom she knew next to nothing about. She had to figure out how to get Queen Lyric back to the Winter Court safely. Definitely nothing to be okay about.
“Lochlan, check on your guards. Padraic, Ardan, I need to see your father. And Bear, we need a plan.”
The words tumbled from her mouth, as if these were orders she gave at least once an hour. She didn’t know where they had come from. Apparently, from some unknown place buried deep within her, silent and immobile, until the moment she needed it.
“As you command, your Highness.”
Lochlan bowed and sprang into action, shouting orders and barking commands at the seemingly unaffected Brownies as he walked out of the room.
Ardan and Padraic bowed, Ardan taking her hand and meeting her eyes as he dipped his head to kiss her hand. But Ivy was so preoccupied that she didn’t feel the usual unwanted electric tingle his lips evoked. Even as she looked at Bear, his blue eyes still swirling with untamed fury from the recent skirmish, she didn’t feel her heart flying forward.
In that moment, it was as if her heart had been heated to a moldable form only to harden like iron, heavy inside her chest.
Just before Ardan and Padraic had exited the room, Ivy stopped them.
“Prince Ardan, Prince Padraic, please convey to King Odrhan that I will need his support against Summer, despite his allegiance to Alena. I am willing to honor the agreement my mother made with him. Is he?”
A shadow passed over Padraic’s face that Ardan didn’t share. Instead, the prince she would have to marry narrowed his eyes and dipped his head in acknowledgement, a smile creeping over his features.
Once she was alone with Bear and Jules, she turned her back and stared out the window into the ice gardens. The gardens her mother had ordered to be created especially for her.
No matter Queen Lyric’s shortcomings, no matter their disagreements over the past three weeks, when she wasn’t being queen, Lyric was more to Ivy than the woman determined to protect her court from its enemies. She was a queen and a mother who had faced impossible odds, kept deadly secrets, and made heart-wrenching decisions that had far-reaching consequences. At the very core, when it came to Lyric’s loyalties, she had chosen Ivy over her people, over her court and title. She had sacrificed herself to save Ivy from whatever fate would have befallen her in Summer. Ivy’s human mother had tried to kill her. Her human father had abandoned her. Even Nan had sent her away at her son’s request.
But her mother had traded herself for whatever pain Ivy would have endured as a prisoner of the Summer Court. A mother who had caused her pain but who would suffer herself to ensure Ivy didn’t have to. And as ugly as Ivy’s life had felt the last few weeks, there was something beautiful in her mother’s actions that seared through her, canceling out all the bitterness she felt from seventeen lost years. Ivy was her mother’s daughter, and she would honor her now, when their people needed them most.
“I’ve never had much in my life other than a few books and Jules and Nan,” Ivy whispered. “Not until I met Bear and learned the truth and found my mother.” She turned to them, then, furious tears gleaming in her eyes. “I won’t lose her. If Alena wants a war, if the Summer Court is stupid enough to lead one, then they shall have it. And we will win, even if it costs me every last piece of my heart.”
Bear met her eyes, visibly stricken. He was a child of Winter and knew exactly what Ivy was saying, realizing exactly what she intended to do.
“Ivy, are you sure?” his voice was deep and raspy, strained as if trying to keep an even tone. “You know what this will mean.”
“I do,” Ivy whispered. “I know exactly what it means. But I won’t fail her.”
“What?” Jules said. “What does it mean? I need to know what’s going on.”
Jules might not know to the same extent, but her words died off as if something monumental had occurred to her she hadn’t considered before. She watched Ivy with a look that communicated the infinite sadness she felt. If nothing else, Jules now comprehended that the unhappy, lonely current that pulled Ivy beneath the surface from time to time in childhood had now swept over her completely, drowning her in an unholy tide that washed away the last of her human desires.
When she broke the surface, she was the heir of Winter.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When she stepped from the portal into Summer, Lyric felt the full effect of the Oleander-laced tea, despite Ivy’s magic. The heat weakened her, and her throat and stomach burned as if she had swallowed fire. If she were to survive this—and she had to—she would have to conserve her energy, using it only when she saw a rare opportunity.
She had come willingly, so she draped her arm lazily over Rune’s as he escorted her along the dirt path that snaked through the flower gardens of the Summer Court. She was surrounded on all sides by Summer guards, all of them wearing fighting leathers and loaded down with weapons—and Summer magic, of course. Her velvet dress felt heavier in the heat and caused her to move slower than normal. Perspiration dewed on her forehead, neck, and the small of her back, and if she dwelled on it for too long, she felt faint, as if she might pass out. But she would not wilt before the Summer Fae.
They were watching her grand entrance with excited curiosity. Even the Summer Girls had abandoned their prince and were peeking at her from behind thick rose bushes, whispering as if they had just heard a tantalizing secret.
“Your Majesty.”
Prince Damarion stepped from the rose garden, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and dipped into a low exaggerated bow.
“Welcome to the Summer Court,” he continued. “I trust you had a pleasant journey.”
Lyric smiled tightly. “Of course,” she said, thankful her voice remained even. “The queen’s Oleander was sweeter and more magnificent than ever. I noticed several patches of it growing just along the path.”
The Prince looked at her blankly for a moment, as if he didn’t understand the reference, before recovering. “My mother’s obsession is with roses, Your Majesty. In fact, I have never known her to meddle much with Summer’s flowers. Being a rose of the Autumn Court herself, she had never had much use for Oleander.”
“My mistake, entirely,” Lyric said. “Well, if I am fortunate enough to speak with her, I will tell her that her rose gardens are more splendid than any I have ever seen.”
The prince dipped his head, acknowledging her compliment with a polite nod. So Damarion, at least, had no part in the attempt on Ivy’s life. Neither had his mother, as Lyric had suspected all along. This was the dark creation of Alena, who had clearly seduced King Zane into her twisted little plan to claim the Winter throne. Lyric’s only advantage was that of surprise. Clearly, Alena had hoped to kill them both with the tea. Her guards had been sent to check for survivors. If they found any, they had been ordered to take Ivy, not Lyric. She could only assume Rune had taken her instead to spare members of his guard.
They continued on up the path as Damarion returned to the gardens to frolic once more with his beautiful girls, swathed in light colored gossamer dra
pes that did little to cover their tanned flesh.
As they passed through the castle gates, there was a flicker of movement, and Lyric looked up into the great window to see Violet, her pale skin draped in sheer cloth, watching her with a stricken expression. Lyric was unaware of any reasons for Violet’s betrayal—other than the obvious anger and resentment over her being a changeling—but whatever her reasons, seeing her now stung like the swift, sharp prick of a needle and left a deep wound that would never quite heal. Still, Lyric managed a smile she hoped would convey her own regret and the love she still bore for her human daughter.
Instead of climbing the glimmering marble stairs of the Summer Castle, Rune led her around a heavily shaded path to the left of the main entrance. So it would be straight to the dungeons then. No audience with the King. No questions. Just the confines of a small cell. With Alena’s hand in this plan, Lyric had expected nothing else. The vegetation grew thicker as the descended craggy stone steps lined on each side by thick ivy, and the shade of the thick canopy of trees gave the false impression that the sun was setting, though it was still mid-afternoon.
At the bottom of the stairs, though, Lyric locked eyes with Alena, who was practically vibrating with giddiness. Her satisfaction vanished, however, when she saw her sister and not her niece. Lyric flashed her brightest smile.
“What is she doing here?” Alena snapped. “My orders were to bring the Thorn Princess.”
Rune stopped a few steps from the stone entryway of the dungeons. Behind them, his guards placed ready hands on their weapons. Uncertainty clouded Alena’s haughty expression.
“No,” Rune said. “The orders were to capture a Winter Court royal. My guards were at risk, and I chose to save them and take Queen Lyric.”
“Rune, I explicitly said—”
“My orders do not come from you, my Lady. Or are you questioning the orders of King Zane?”
Lyric felt her smile widen at the insult. Perhaps she could find a few allies in the Summer Court. Perhaps they hated Alena more than they hated Winter. Lyric silently held on to that information, along with the hope that she could endure what would come.
Alena narrowed her eyes, taking several steps toward Lyric and Rune, stopping only when the guards directly behind them drew swords. Rune held his hand up, signaling them to hold.
“Take her inside,” Alena said. “And make sure she is guarded better than I was.”
Without a word or gesture of proper acknowledgment, Rune led Lyric inside the damp underbelly of the glittering palace. It was cooler here, which would make Lyric more comfortable than in the finest of the King’s guest rooms. But it wasn’t the dungeon or the darkness that worried her.
It was the variety of silver blades and the scattering of pink and white Oleander blossoms Lyric spotted on a nearby table. Beside the flowers was a pestle and mortar. The hours and days that followed would be the most difficult Lyric had ever endured. But if she could only be strong enough, she would return to her daughter, return to her kingdom. Then, she would bring a tumultuous wrath that would make King Zane regret the day he invited Alena to share his bed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hatred stronger than she had ever felt before surged through Alena’s veins as she stared into Rune’s condescending expression. It was no secret that he hated her. He had hated her for years. Rune resented anyone who could capture the ear of the King, and he had never been eager to do her bidding. He was one of the few Summer Fae who couldn’t be bought or bargained with. It would be a pleasure to end him, and one day, she would.
Rune had failed to capture Ivy, which was a failure Alena couldn’t tolerate. Unless Rune was lying to her, King Zane had managed to miscommunicate her entire plan.
Arrogant moron. If it weren’t for his hunger for power, Alena probably wouldn’t waste her time on him. The Summer Fae were so caught up in frivolity and hedonistic pleasures that it was a miracle they found time for anything productive or ambitious.
She had told King Zane years ago about the ancient Corrigan, the one who had been denied entrance to Queen Lyric’s birthing room. It’s the entire reason he had agreed to help her.
Lyric’s labor had been long and difficult, and Lochlan had been beside himself with worry, barking orders to everyone in the vicinity as if he were the father and not King Dristan, while he guarded the door with rabid ferocity. The woman was adamant, despite Lochlan’s wild behavior. She had insisted on seeing Lyric, but Lochlan had turned her away, threatening to end her life if she didn’t go. Alena had followed her from the castle that night, insisting that she would deliver the vision to Queen Lyric, feigning love and concern for her sister.
It was then that Alena knew why she had been spared so many years ago. Why she had been forced to live as a princess heir to nothing. That night, as the old Corrigan had poured her divination stones from their ancient pouch and read the future, Alena’s destiny had taken shape. And she had worked tirelessly to achieve it ever since.
Everything hinged upon Ivy’s death.
Alena needed more time.
Lyric flashed Alena a smile as Rune escorted her into the dungeon, which sent a thundering surge of power through her that she fought to suppress. She took a deep breath to ease the sensation, reminding herself that Lyric wouldn’t be smiling for long.
She had ordered two of Damarion’s Summer Girls to pluck the Oleander from the gardens beyond the gates and blend them with water inside the dungeon. She would wipe the cold, satisfied smile from her sister’s face just before she wiped her from the Faerie world. Alena would be smiling then, watching her with satisfaction as she died.
After that, Princess Ivy would be easy enough to eliminate. She had only been in Faerie for a few weeks and didn’t even know the full capacity of her magic. The girl was more human than Fae, and after spending her entire life in the mortal realm, she would probably never have the ruthlessness and cunning it would take to lead an entire court.
Once the last of the Summer guards had followed Rune into the dungeon, Alena fell in line behind them, pushing her way through them. Rune led Lyric inside her small cell, which had been left entirely bear. At least one of her orders had been followed.
Lyric stood with her arms crossed as Rune closed and locked the cell, dipping his head in a sort of apology. Alena forced her way past him and smiled at Lyric. She had been right. Her sister wasn’t smiling now. And yet, she didn’t look angry or concerned.
“I hope you’ll find your new quarters comfortable,” Alena said. “I saw to every detail.”
“So I see.”
If that was to be Lyric’s only response, it was grossly anticlimactic.
“Now that I have you right where I want you, I can focus all of my efforts on sweet, innocent little Ivy.”
Lyric inhaled sharply, and Alena smiled, satisfaction washing over her in anticipation of what would follow. But to her surprise, Lyric released the breath evenly, almost in a bored way. Then, she shrugged.
“We shall see, won’t we?”
She was bluffing. She had to be. Of course, her sister would find it beneath her station to grovel or express fear. But this was quite a performance, even for her.
“There won’t be much to see once I’m finished with her,” Alena challenged.
Lyric broke into hysterical laughter. Perhaps the Oleander intended to poison Ivy had somehow wound up in the Queen’s cup instead. When she was finished, though, she sauntered toward the door, gripping the bars with both hands and resting her head casually against the bars.
“Little sister,” she said. “You failed to factor in one tiny little detail when you calculated your master plan. There were three people in Ivy’s room this morning. Three Fae, not all of them Winter, who were served the Oleander tea you ordered.”
Alena worked to wipe her expression clear. She couldn’t react. She wouldn’t. Violet had explicitly said that the Queen took tea with Ivy every afternoon. There was never any mention of others who joined them. Alena had h
oped to take one or both of them out, but she hadn’t planned on hurting anyone else. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.
“Would you like to know who it was?” Lyric asked. “I’ll tell you. The other Fae in the room was none other than the Unseelie prince you have been known to toy with.”
Dread clawed its way up Alena’s throat, so powerful she was unable to swallow it down.
“Prince Ardan might have helped you before, but that was before you tried to poison him, just like you did my husband. By now, his father will have heard the entire story. King Odrhan makes a fine ally, but he makes one hell of an enemy. How do you think he will respond when he learns the lover he refused to marry tried to kill his son?”
Alena clenched her jaws together, grinding her teeth against a thousand explosive responses. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked out the door, heading straight to see King Zane.
Lyric’s haunting laughter drifted up the stairs behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was bad enough that Violet had tricked Ivy into giving her the Imperial Key, which she had then used to bust her evil auntie from her cell in the dungeons. But then, she had given it to Alena, who had then used its magic to allow Summer guards full access of the castle.
Ivy paced, the flouncy top she wore bouncing against her with every step.
“Your Highness, this wasn’t your fault,” Lochlan said. “You didn’t know. Lyric was merely trying to give you time to adjust. She never dreamed Violet would be capable of something so underhanded, especially after Alena nearly killed her at the Binding Ceremony.”
“Unless Violet has been in on it from the beginning.”
They all stopped and looked at Jules.
“Hey, I’m just saying. Anytime I evaluate sinister motives I look to the best example I’ve ever seen.”
