by K. M. Shea
Hoooo boy, that was a different basket of crazy.
Not that I care. My personal goal is to destroy these games of power. They only divide the fae and make everything worse.
But saying that out loud would make Skye guzzle all the antacids in her mint tin in one go. So, I kept the conversation a little more…limited.
“Yeah, I’m counting on the other monarchs playing mind games and skipping my banquet,” I said. “That’s why I’m actually planning fun stuff. But with my personal guests it’s still going to be a pretty large party.”
I helped Skye pull the oversized door open, then let Indigo through. When I turned around to close the door behind us, I saw Lady Chrysanthe.
She was sitting on one of the crumbling stone bannisters, the picture-perfect night fae with her blond hair, tapered ears, olive toned skin, and expressive hazel green eyes. She was wearing a dress—she always wore a dress—that was artfully ruffled and accented with fresh flowers, and was gazing up at the moon like a heroine from a tragic ballad.
I furrowed my eyebrows as I studied her.
Lady Chrysanthe had been downright antagonistic to me for most of our acquaintance. She and her family thought she would be named the next Night Monarch, and they hadn’t taken kindly to a half human occupying the throne instead.
But she’d been…weird ever since I’d uncovered a plot laid out by one of her so called “friends” who tried to take her down by making it look like she was attempting to kill me. Yeah, fae went for nine layers of confusing with their plots and schemes. It’s what made them stretch the truth and interpret it differently since they couldn’t outright lie
I’d seen her at least half a dozen times since I’d been married/crowned. She was always standing or sitting by herself, looking beautiful and soulful. She must have had some kind of goal in mind—fae did not act without a reason—but there was nothing logical about her actions that I could see.
Fae are weird.
I shut the door and followed Skye and Indigo through the massive ramshackle ballroom.
Indigo held her two orbs of magical light over her head, illuminating the inch of dust that coated the place, the broken glass spattered everywhere, and the gouges in the fancy wooden flooring which was cut in zigzagging patterns.
Most of the castle was decrepit and dirty. Only a few rooms were kept relatively clean—and I was certain it was only because they were required by “tradition.” Ugh.
“Here we are,” Skye announced after leading me through a puzzling maze of hallways. She stopped outside a set of fancy glass doors—which were framed with polished wood and covered by wrought-iron moon and star designs—and nudged them open.
Magic, triggered by our presence, lit up the magic-fed wall sconces, brightening the place up and creating spot lights on all the glass cases arranged in the space.
There were so many of those glass cases and displays that it felt like a museum.
A single glance through the wood paneled room revealed weapons, armor, a few faded robes and dresses, some books, and a huge variety of magical artifacts, the closest being a monkey statue with glittering jade eyes, and the biggest being a gigantic claw that hung on the wall and was almost as tall as I was.
Skye expectantly looked to me, and I obliged her.
“Wow—this is really cool.” I slipped far enough into the room to admire the row of halberds bolted to a wall. “The craftsmanship on this stuff is incredible.”
“Elf work,” Skye said, sounding greatly satisfied. “Though those halberds were made by dwarves, if I recall correctly.”
While the four major supernatural races were werewolves, vampires, wizards, and fae, there were lots of less populated species—like dwarves, dragon shifters, trolls, etc.
Trolls, pixies, and the like were technically fae, so they swore themselves to a Court which they served and in return were protected by.
In theory.
The wizards had their own subspecies—like the oracles, hunters, and slayers—and the werewolves typically spoke for most of the shifters. Except the dragon shifters, anyway.
There used to be elves, but they died out over a century ago—it was around then that magic started to die out, too, and the various supernatural races stopped working together as each one struggled for its survival.
It was only relatively recently that we’d even remotely started to work together, and that was all because our community had outed ourselves to the humans. It had happened before I was born, but not much before then—supposedly the upper crust supernaturals looked at human pop culture and saw how popular vampires and werewolves were, and decided it was the ideal time to reveal ourselves.
The humans didn’t mind us—mostly because together the supernatural community did everything we could to appear beautiful and interesting rather than cutthroat and desperate like we really were.
But no one wanted the humans to fear us—outnumbered as we were, they could wipe us off the face of the planet.
“The original king’s artifacts are down here.” Skye strode to the far end of the room, her stilettos clicking on the floor. “I think you will enjoy seeing the real thing, instead of the drawings in your textbooks.”
I obediently followed after her, stopping when she did.
The original king’s artifacts weren’t kept in a glass case—at least, not all of them were. A crown, several necklaces, bracelets, and a bunch of rings all bearing the crescent moon and star insignia of the Night Court were arranged in a case. But his sword, shield, and bow—it seemed he was a very battle-happy king—were all arranged under a blinding spotlight.
“His most recognizable artifact is, of course, his staff.” Skye gestured to the tall, magically powered weapon.
Topped with a crescent moon the size of a dinner platter, the staff was bigger than I imagined based on the drawings in the history books Skye used to tutor me. It was about my height, and forged out of a golden metal that was so finely worked it looked like it had been poured or sculpted rather than hammered. Metal and gem stars clustered around the top of the moon, and a clear crystal was positioned at the base. The crystal was surprisingly small—the books had made it look a lot bigger—but it might have been damaged or something over time, since the crystal’s perfect formation was a little bumpy and cracked at the top.
“It’s a lot prettier than I expected,” I said. “Did he really use all of these weapons?”
“He did,” Skye confirmed.
I rolled my own royal artifact—my glass prism that I was pretty sure was the least impressive artifact I could have picked but was the only thing that synchronized up with me during the selection process—around in my palm. “He must have had a lot of teachers. Which reminds me, Skye, do you think it’s possible for me to get a magic teacher?”
“A magic teacher?” Skye repeated. “But you are already versed in magic.”
“I know, but after all the assassination attempts on me I’m thinking it wouldn’t be bad to learn more. And I’m a little worried about my abilities to strengthen the realm ward,” I admitted.
Since magic started dying, the fae realms—a world separate from earth but accessible to the fae—started shrinking. Each Court had its own bit of the realm, and I was responsible for the Night Realm.
Already I’d seen the realm lose land as the wards—struggling to hold back the toxic miasma that otherwise covered the fae lands—failed. I was determined that wasn’t going to happen again.
Which meant I needed help.
“In that case, I shall make a note of it.” Skye tapped away on her screen.
“No need! I’ll help my darling daughter.” The doors creaked as Lord Linus stepped inside, a sunny smile on his face as his hair—the same dark black color as mine—streamed behind him in the high ponytail he’d gathered it in.
I scowled. “What are you doing here?”
Lord Linus planted a hand over his heart. “Your words hurt me, Leila. Why else would I come except to see your smiling
face?”
“Because you’re avoiding whoever you owe money to,” I flatly said.
Lord Linus avoided my gaze and crouched down to pet Kevin before Whiskers wandered over and rubbed his head on his shoulder. “You are devastatingly clever, my daughter!”
I held in a disgruntled groan—it would only encourage him.
Lord Linus was my biological father and the source of my fae blood. He’d been married to Mom, but when I was a toddler, he abruptly divorced her and split.
Even though they had a confusingly positive relationship these days, it didn’t change the fact that Lord Linus had abandoned my mother and broken her heart. She didn’t marry Paul—my step-dad—until I was about ten.
I have no idea what she ever saw in Lord Linus in the first place.
While he could charm just about anyone, he was useless in every other way. He had a terrible gambling habit, too, and he was so deeply in debt his home had been stripped of his possessions—hence why he was living with me at the night mansion as my “fae advisor.”
I didn’t like the guy, but as the Queen of the Night Court, the last thing I needed was Lord Linus running loose, throwing my name around as he got himself in worse and worse debt. At least now I could have Chase—my director of security—keep an eye on him.
“You can’t be my magic teacher,” I said. “To teach me you’d actually have to know advanced magic.”
“I know a great deal of advanced and difficult magic!” Lord Linus boasted, flashing his eyes—the same purply-blue shade as mine—at me. “You have fae blood of greatness! Why else did you think the night mares chose you?”
“Because I fed them apples and carrots,” I deadpanned.
Lord Linus rolled his eyes. “No, it’s because you have great potential. Don’t worry about finding her a teacher, Skye. I’ll handle it.”
“Yes, Lord Linus.” Skye slightly bowed her head, taking the fae lord’s word for it.
I grumbled under my breath, but it was better to let things ride out. Working with Lord Linus would help me figure out what I specifically needed help in, and that would make Skye’s search for a real teacher that much easier.
Lord Linus slung an arm over my shoulder. “We’re going to have such fun—just you wait.”
“I’d rather not,” I said.
Indigo—passing in front of me so she could also get a good look at the original king’s artifacts, patted my hand.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Now you know how Skye and I feel when we deal with you,” she said.
“Thanks,” I repeated, sarcasm lacing my voice.
Indigo cackled, but Skye ignored our conversation and moved ahead like a museum tour guide.
“If you come this way, Queen Leila, you’ll get to see the artifacts that belonged to the original king’s consort,” she called.
I shrugged Lord Linus’s arm off and rolled my shoulders back. “Coming!”
Chapter Two
Rigel
I waited in the shadows of a tree for the imbecile fae that thought he could kill me.
I’d received an offer for a contract—which immediately raised a warning flag.
Although I was a famous assassin—and I was still known as the Wraith to all—the contracts for my services had dried up over the past few weeks. A necessity given that I was now consort to Queen Leila of the Night Court.
As consort, I couldn’t go around killing supernaturals—or at least I couldn’t let it publicly be known. The monarchs of the other Courts were ruthless. At least one of them would construe any paid assassinations as an act of war by the Night Court. And while I wasn’t certain I wanted to help Leila with her insane quest to end infighting among the fae, I had no desire to make her life—and mine by extension—more difficult by introducing a war to it.
Our wedding was at the beginning of the month, and given the stir it created, everyone knows and probably has their own theories on my loyalties. The only supernaturals who have offered me contracts since the wedding have all been traps. Though none of them were so badly disguised as this one.
I glanced at the pile of rubble that had once been a tiny, thumb-sized sculpture of a knight.
When I’d arrived at the meeting place—a weed-riddled parking lot behind a factory in the manufacturing sector of the city of Magiford—at the agreed upon time—sunset—I could feel the death spell the tiny statue held from two blocks away.
It was a clumsy spell—one of fae origin. It could be keyed into a specific target—me, in this case—and once sprung it sealed the target in a confined area with a ward, then blasted the target with magic, killing it.
Not the subtlest of disposal methods.
Deactivating the statue was a simple matter of destroying it. I’d done that bit by throwing my twin daggers at it. Since they were artifacts, a spell that increased their destructive powers went off on impact, and they’d blown the statue to bits.
This, obviously, would have also not been a very subtle disposal method. Except I knew better and raised a ward that sealed the spot off and silenced the explosion.
I shifted, growing bored, and idly wondered what new trouble was spawning back at the mansion.
Was it yesterday Leila made the chef mad when she refused to drink the celebratory tea he made her, or was that when she nearly knocked out Lord Hermes when she hurled a riding helmet at him?
I couldn’t tell Leila I found her amusing. She’d point out her humor was a hidden bonus to marrying her and would insist our rather one-sided bargain for marriage had been fair all along.
In reality, despite my “queen’s” ability to lie—and her unusual personality—I was surprised to discover that moving to her mansion and all the changes in my life weren’t entirely negative.
I tilted my head when a car pulled into the parking lot, stopping at the crater where I’d destroyed the statue.
Ahh yes. My would-be employer, it seems.
A fae slipped out of the car—a mid-sized car from the early 2000s, so he most likely lacked significant funding in addition to intelligence.
His blond hair and blue eyes weren’t distinctive to a single Court, except that he wore a gold pin of three interlocking leaves—a symbol of one of the local unseelie Courts.
That somewhat surprised me.
Seelie and unseelie Courts were much smaller and far less powerful. They typically only presided over a single city or even a portion of a city, and didn’t often attack a regional Court like the Night Court or any of the seasonal Courts…except when they thought the regional Court was weakened and they could beat it and jockey for a new level of power.
Which was probably the case here.
It seems I’ll have to send a message.
The fae turned around in the middle of the parking lot, peering blindly at the shadows as he practically shouted into his cellphone. “No, I don’t see a sign of him anywhere. No body, either.”
Silence.
“Yes, I set up the trap as instructed, Your Majesty, and made contact with him. He should have come already. I’ll look for the statue.”
The fae folded in half as he tried to look for the statue in the dim light the stars produced, unknowingly walking through the remnants of the statue he was seeking.
“Yes, he could have caught wind of it, but my advice remains the same to you—we need to eliminate the Wraith before you can kill the new Night Queen and secure more power.”
Leila? They want to kill Leila?
Something foreign squeezed my chest, and I moved without thinking.
“Else, as her consort, the Wraith will inherit the crown, and he’ll be far harder to—”
One careful strike—a blade to the neck—was all it took to kill him.
He collapsed, dead before his body hit the ground.
I found the cellphone—it had slipped from his grasp and skittered a foot away.
The foreign—and unwanted—sensation continued to roam around my chest as I picked up the cellphone.
“I say, Drust—what happened?” a stuffy voice demanded through the phone line.
“Drust is indisposed,” I said. “Permanently.”
The caller wheezed and released a gurgle of fear.
Good. He knows who I am.
“Listen very carefully.” I glanced up at the sky. The moon was starting to rise, lightening the sky from fathomless black to a deep blue. “Leave the Night Queen and her Court alone, or I’ll come for you.”
“Apologies, Lord Rigel,” the unseelie fae babbled. “This was my subject’s plan! I have no wish—I would never—”
In his fear, the fae couldn’t spit out a reply that would be a truth that wouldn’t get him killed.
“This is your only chance,” I said. “Inform the other unseelie and seelie Courts, or I’ll wipe you out.”
I tossed the phone on the ground then stabbed it through with one of my daggers. It sliced through the phone—killing it instantly—but the twinge in my chest was still bothering me. “Aer.” I activated the dagger, and it sparked with magic, frying the phone until it sputtered with fire and was little more than twisted metal and melting plastics.
I pulled the dagger free of the wreckage and frowned.
The twinge was mostly gone, thankfully, but I still wasn’t pleased.
It was uncomfortable—both the sensation itself and the knowledge that I had experienced something that made me break my iron control.
I had acted—killing the unseelie fae on instinct alone—after hearing the threat against Leila.
Why? What about her would drive me to act irrationally?
Frowning, I entered the shadows and used my magic to jump—hopping from shadow to shadow—until I reached my hidden car.
Rather than leave the mess behind me, I remained disturbed on my drive home.
The unseelie Court’s actions didn’t bother me. Frankly, it was predictable. And while I would inform Chase—Leila’s director of security—I was almost certain the lower Courts would take the hint and leave the Night Court alone. They knew better than to face the consequences I would rain down on them.