The Glass Scepter

by Bekah Harris

  “You have just given me everything I’ve ever wanted with those three words,” he whispered. “My worst fear has always been that you married me because you felt you had no other choice.”

  “But I did have a choice,” Ivy said. “I made it. And no matter what happened in the past, know that I’ve never regretted a single day of being your wife.”

  Just as Ardan leaned down for another kiss, someone rapped at the door. Ardan groaned.

  “Go away, Padraic,” he yelled. “I’m otherwise occupied at the moment.”

  The pounding continued.

  Ardan gave Ivy a pitiful look, pressed a kiss to her head, and crossed the room. Behind him, Ivy grabbed her robe from the bedside chair. She was halfway across the floor when the tapestry in the corner of the room fluttered behind her back. He whirled away from the door and darted toward his wife as the figure appeared in the shadows. Just as he heard the whirring of an arrow, he leapt into open space. He collided with Ivy just as pain exploded in his chest.

  He hit the floor hard. The pain spread through his arms, so punishing he thought it might blow the top of his head off. There was some kind of noise echoing in his ears. His name, maybe? Hands were tugging at him. Rolling him to his side. His vision blurred, black spots marring the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Then, Ivy’s face replaced it. Tears gushed down her cheeks, and her mouth opened wide in horror. She was alive. And they were together. What cause could she have to weep?

  Footsteps thrashed in his ears, pounding like bombs.

  He blinked, trying to clear his vision.

  Guards had flooded the room.

  He blinked again. Ivy was clinging to him, begging him to do something. What was it she wanted?

  Blink. Focus.

  “—with me! Please, stay with me!”

  He smiled up at her. As if he would ever abandon her.

  “Please!” she was crying. “I love you!”

  Now, he could sleep soundly. He lifted his arm, bringing his hand to her face. Why was it so heavy? He grazed his fingers along the curve of her cheek, where the skin was the softest. But he was tired. So tired.

  He just needed to sleep.

  His eyes fluttered, and he drifted away.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Ivy couldn’t stop shaking.

  She looked down at her hands, which were covered in Ardan’s blood.

  Oh, God. Ardan.

  She turned her head, her stomach rolling. But she hadn’t eaten in so long, there was nothing to empty from her belly. Voices echoed in her ears. Feet moved across the floor, and urgent commands swam through her head. Someone wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

  Blinking, Ivy looked up through blurry eyes. Padraic was screaming at one of the guards--his head guard, Malcolm. He ripped the commander’s patch from his leathers. He didn’t mean it, Ivy knew, but the anger and the hurt had nowhere else to go.

  Ardan was gone. Padraic’s brother. Her husband.

  It isn’t real. It can’t be.

  But when she looked to her left, Ardan’s body was still in the same place, his dark eyes wide but lifeless, his black hair made even darker by the blood beneath his head. He was gone.

  She was certain of it because she could feel the dark ribbons of his power humming through her. They had bound their magic together. If one of them died, the other gained his power. Right now, Ivy had so much magic, she could barely hold herself still. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked herself. If she didn’t, she might splinter into a thousand pieces. Or unleash her anger on someone who didn’t deserve her wrath.

  Suddenly, there were arms around her.

  “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my God, Ivy!”

  Jules’ grip on her was so tight, it was almost punishing, but Ivy welcomed the constriction. She needed it.

  “He’s gone.” Ivy didn’t recognize the sound of her voice. It was raspy. Older. Weary.

  “Shhh,” Jules whispered. “Don’t talk right now. Just feel. Just let it all out.”

  “I can’t.” She was barely in control of the magic.

  “You can’t hold it all in. Ivy, no one can bear this without feeling. Just let it happen.”

  “Ivy’s right, Jules.”

  It was Bear. Ivy blinked up at him. He stared down at her, his face ashen, his blue eyes tired. Slaine had done this. His wife had done this. Ivy was sick with magic and grief because Slaine had tried to kill her. But Ardan had...he had taken the arrow...for her.

  “I don’t understand,” Jules snapped.

  “She needs the scepter,” Bear said. “Look at her eyes. They’re black, like an Unseelie. She’s taken on all of Ardan’s magic. It’s too much for her to handle, so she needs to store some of it in the scepter like Lyric did before. If she loses control, everyone in this room is at risk.”

  “Well, can you get it for her?” Jules waved her hand at him, as if he were stupid for just standing there.

  “I’ve already sent for Lochlan.” Bear met Ivy’s eyes. “Slaine will pay for this,” he said. “They will all pay for this.”

  Ivy nodded. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry, too hoarse from crying. She had heard screams wailing in her own ears for several agonizing minutes right after it happened. She hadn’t realized until now they had been her own.

  “Just breathe, Ivy,” Jules whispered. She rocked back and forth with her.

  Jules’ touch, Ivy noticed, was cold. Jules was no longer human. She was a Laltog. Because she had followed Ivy to Faerie. And Ivy had been selfish enough to allow her to stay. Her best friend had died and returned as a monster all because Ivy couldn’t let her go. Now, Ardan was dead because Ivy had killed Alena.

  “My fault,” she whispered.

  “Don’t,” Jules snapped. “Just don’t.”

  But it didn’t matter what anyone else said. However they chose to connect the dots, they all began and ended in the same pattern. Instead of arguing, though, Ivy leaned into Jules. Somehow, Jules’ cool touch was comforting, and Ivy closed her eyes, relaxing into the pain, breathing through the tight sensation in her chest.

  “That’s better,” Jules said. “That’s it.”

  The temperature dropped inside the room. Ivy’s breath came out in visible puffs of air. She tried to control it, but no matter how much effort she gave, the magic leaked from her, refusing to be contained. Frost clung to the window panes, and ice rippled across the floor. The snow came then, falling lightly at first and then swirling around them.

  “You’re shaking,” Jules said. “Ivy, you’re still shaking.”

  “Where is she?” A familiar voice broke through the frantic chaos of the room.

  Lochlan.

  Ivy blinked against icy tears that had frozen in the corners of her eyes. Her father had come into the room, carrying her mother’s glass scepter. Magi Josiah was on his heels. Lochlan paused briefly to talk with Padraic. They both whispered frantically, glancing in her direction as they spoke. Then, with a deep breath and a look of unmistakable pity, Lochlan approached.

  “Is there no respect for my princess or her fallen husband?” he barked. Then, grabbing the sheet from off their bed, he covered Ardan’s body.

  “It’s okay,” Jules whispered, holding her tightly. “It’ll be okay.”

  That’s where she was wrong. There was no coming back from this. Ivy didn’t know exactly how, but she knew that there was no coming back from pain like this.

  Lochlan dropped down beside her and picked her up, setting her on the edge of the bed--the bed she had shared with Ardan less than an hour before. He was talking, but Ivy didn’t hear what he was saying as his mouth moved.

  Shock.

  Ivy was in shock.

  Lochlan took her hands and wrapped them around the icy shaft of the scepter. Then, Magi Josiah approached.

  Unseelie power runs through the veins, too much for a single body to contain

  With dark eyes closed, then open green, pass Unseelie darkness till magic is c
lean.

  “Close your eyes, Ivy, and focus on sending the excess magic into the scepter.” Lochlan placed a gentle hand on her back as Magi Josiah continued to chant.

  Ivy took a shaky breath and tried to close her eyes. She focused on the power humming through and imagined it flowing through her hands and into the scepter.

  “That’s it,” Jules said. “I think you’re getting it.”

  When the shaking stopped, Ivy opened her eyes. The scepter glowed a vivid blue. Inside the orb, Ivy saw the dark thread of Unseelie magic it had extracted from her. Some of the pain eased in her chest, making it more comfortable to breathe.

  Then, moving around Jules, Lochlan wrapped his arms around her.

  “I thought I had lost you,” he whispered. “I am so sorry about Ardan.”

  Ivy nodded robotically, sinking into her father’s embrace.

  “Are you ready to come home?” he whispered. “Lyric has requested you come back to Winter.”

  Nodding, Ivy allowed him to help her to her feet. Anywhere would be better than the room that contained her dead husband and the bed they had just shared. She bit back a sob, trying not to look at the body below. Instead, she stared at the commotion in the room.

  Bear talked to Unseelie guards who scribbled down his words on parchment. Padraic was pacing, his eyes red from exhaustion and grief. Ivy would be mourning Ardan’s loss for centuries. But Padraic had lost a brother and father, all in the span of a few days.

  When Ivy tried to move, she found herself rooted to the ground. How could she leave Ardan? What would they do to him?

  “Come on, Ivy,” Lochlan said. “There is nothing more we can do.”

  Ivy nodded, barely hearing the words. But when she still didn’t respond, Lochlan scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jules held herself still in the chair beside Padraic. Since becoming a Laltog, she found that her emotions were heightened. Things that would have caused her silent anger before now had the power to send her sailing across the table to rip out someone’s throat.

  In this case, Fain’s weasley throat.

  Fortunately, Padraic took her hand beneath the table and squeezed.

  “Do you wish me to repeat it again?” Padraic snapped. “I thought I made my wishes clear. Prince Ardan will be buried in Winter.”

  “And I say that according to Unseelie law, the realm’s royals are to be buried in the vaults beneath the castle.”

  Padraic didn’t even flinch. Jules felt her lips curl into a satisfied smile. If this idiot was really going to argue this now, when Padraic had just lost his brother, the moron deserved exactly what he got.

  “My brother’s explicit wishes were to be buried in Winter, which by his own profession, was where his heart was. Our Kingdoms united. When Ardan married Princess Ivy, he chose to become a Winter Fae. Therefore, he will be buried in the ice gardens beyond the Winter Castle.”

  Fain crossed his arms and clenched his jaw. Jules could tell he was biting back his argument.

  “And what about her?” Fain gestured toward Jules.

  Jules raised her eyebrows as Padraic grew still and quiet beside her.

  “What about me?” Jules asked sweetly.

  “Your Majesty, her presence at this funeral will only serve to infuriate the Seelie royals. She is a Laltog when both realms are on the brink of war with the darklings.”

  “Choose your next words wisely, for they could be your last,” Padraic said. He gave Fain a stare that gave Jules chills. His dark eyes melted to gold with his rage. “Ardan is my brother. Juliet was his friend and is the best friend to the Winter Princess. We are both attending this funeral, as is expected by Princess Ivy and Queen Lyric.”

  “But, Your Majesty--”

  “This discussion is over.” Padraic rose from his chair and motioned toward the door. Reluctantly, Fain crossed the room and left them in silence.

  “No offense, Padraic, but your advisor is an ass,” Jules said.

  “Yes, but that is an advisor’s job. To tell us truths we have no desire to hear but are true nonetheless.”

  “So my presence at Ardan’s funeral will anger the other courts?” Jules couldn’t understand it. Yes, she was a Laltog through no fault of her own, but her loyalty to Ivy should be obvious.

  “It will,” Padraic said. “But right now, the feelings of the other courts are not at the top of my priority list. Attending Ardan’s funeral is. Neither Ivy nor I will make it through the ceremony without you.”

  Jules stepped toward him, wrapping him in her embrace. Padraic was in control of himself at the moment, but the last two days had been nothing short of hell for him. He had stripped Malcolm, the head of his guards, of his title and thrown him in the dungeons. He had commanded extra guards in the passageways, and through a cruel twist of fate or a complete oversight from Malcolm, the secret hall to Ivy’s room had been left unguarded. What followed had been a nightmare.

  Jules knew she was wrong to even think such a thing, considering the magnitude of Ivy’s and Padraic’s pain, but she was thankful it had been Ardan and not Ivy on the receiving end of Slaine’s arrow.

  Slaine.

  The thought of her clouded Jules’ mind with images of blood. Before she could control her thoughts, her fangs elongated in her mouth. Which had proven worse than her nearly insatiable hunger to control. At any rate, if Ivy didn’t make Slaine pay after the birth of her child, Jules would.

  Padraic had locked himself in his study after it happened. Jules was the only one he allowed inside. Not only had he lost his brother but he had lost his father, as well. Though Odrhan had been unseated, Padraic still cared. The fallen king’s funeral had been the day before. Since he was overthrown, it had been a private affair attended only by Padraic and Jules. The Brownies had quietly carried him to the vaults as Padraic watched. He had told Jules he planned to say something, but instead, he had ordered the Brownies to close the tomb. He stared ahead, lost in thought for several moments, before taking Jules’ hand and turning away.

  Padraic had spent the hours that followed in their room. He had clung to her, breaking into sporadic sobs.

  “I just got him back,” he kept saying, “and now he’s gone.”

  That was the sweet tragedy of it all. Ardan had changed. He had learned to love. Because of that love, he had sacrificed himself and died for his wife. It was a beautiful, heart wrenching loss. After a few hours, though, Padraic had shed his tears and launched into action, sending dispatches back and forth between Unseelie and Winter to make the arrangements as Ardan had wanted.

  And Fain had dared to stand against Padraic.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Jules swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t know how she would ever make it through the funeral without falling apart. But Ivy needed her strength today, and so did Padraic. Clasping his hand, she walked with him to the portals.

  In Winter, the snow was so thick, Jules could barely see what was happening. They stood behind the Winter Castle, just beyond the Lyric’s ice gardens, where the mounds of the honored dead were located.

  Ivy stood with her mother and Lochlan. It was all Jules could do not to cry at the sight of her. While the rest of the Winter Fae wore the traditional silvers and blues of Winter, Ivy was dressed in black, the color of the Unseelie Court and the realm of perpetual night. She stared ahead at the glass casket, looking down at Ardan’s body, which had been prepared and restored by the Magi. Like some twisted spin on Snow White, Ardan lay as though sleeping, only no kiss would wake him at the end of the story.

  Jules bowed her head, as Ivy stepped forward, her back straight, her face as cold as one of her mother’s sculptures.

  “Prince Ardan will be laid to rest today,” she said. Her voice was strong, but Jules detected the slight trembling of her hands. “When we married and united our kingdoms, he swore his fealty to the Winter Court and to me. Two nights ago, during an attempt on my lif
e, he proved that the vows he took were not promises he took lightly. His life and his death are a testament to the love he bore for me and our united courts. As a grieving wife, I will miss him all the days of my life. As the Winter Heir, he will be avenged.”

  Jules didn’t miss the fact that Ivy’s gaze zeroed-in on Queen Endellion, who had yet to unite the Seelie Courts. Bear stood beside her, staring at his feet. Jules couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling. He had married Slaine to save Ivy’s life and to ensure her future happiness. Now, his own sacrifice had only brought her grief.

  “The Darkling Army and the daughters of the Dark Queen have vowed to destroy our realms,” Ivy continued. “They have vowed that darkness will rule all of Faerie. Ardan would have been the first to take a stand to prevent that from happening.” She met the mournful gazes of those around her: King Damarion of Summer, Queen Flora of Spring, Queen Merida of Autumn, and Queen Endellion. “I hope his sacrifice will not be in vain.”

  Then, Ivy raised her chin and stepped aside as the Magi approached, casting an eerie shadow over the entire ceremony. Their black cloaks seemed to hover over the snow, their faces obscured by their hoods. Gathering around the casket, they began to chant until a swirling ball of light blazed from the burial mound. Then, lifting the coffin, the Magi trudged toward the portal and slipped Ardan’s body inside. Ivy closed her eyes, crystalline tears plinking into the snow beneath her as the portal closed.

  Jules didn’t even dare breath, as she waited. Finally, the group began to disperse, and she rushed toward her best friend.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” Ivy whispered.

  Jules pulled her in for a hug, trying to ignore her new instincts. Ivy’s scent was overwhelming, crisper and cleaner than Padraic’s but just as tempting. Her pulse thrummed in Jules’ ears. She pushed her away, stepping back as her fangs began to throb, her throat on fire.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, covering her mouth.