by K. M. Shea
The night mares threw their heads and shrieked—though Blue Moon very thoughtfully refrained from moving.
“Shoot—the wards,” I cursed.
“What’s going on?” Chase asked.
“The wards are failing—the realm is going to shrink if I can’t supplement its power. I’ll call you back!”
“Wait, Queen Leila—”
I ignored Chase and ended the call, then crammed the phone back in my pocket. “Get me to the barrier,” I shouted to the night mares as I shortened my reins.
The magical equines bolted, moving like shadows.
I had to hold on for dear life and trust the night mares as they galloped at their top speed. I closed my eyes from the whipping wind, and I clamped my legs around Blue Moon’s sides.
When I felt the gelding start to slow down, I started blinking, trying to clear my vision. I flung myself off his back before he came to a complete stop and landed with a stagger.
My sense of direction was swirling because we’d left the trees far behind and popped out in what looked like a long-abandoned farm field, but I saw the one thing that mattered most: the wards.
Constructed of pale yellow magic held together by the fae symbols and letters burnt into it, the ward marked the Night Realm’s property line. The symbols and letters were the bones of the massive spell previous generations had cast to keep back the toxic force that had torn through the fae realm and ravaged its lands.
I don’t know if it was because so many years had passed, or because magic was dying off, but the ward spell weakened occasionally, and the toxic forces outside pushed it in, claiming precious acreage and laying waste to it.
Even now, through the barrier, I could see the continuation of the farm field into the toxic area.
The soil on the other side of the barrier looked gray, and as dry as dust. The air was hazy and clouded with smoke. There was no plant life, only destruction.
“Astrum!” I shouted, making my prism ignite with magic.
Because of all the frequent attacks, I’d taken a leather bracelet and used it to tie the crystal to the underside of my wrist—that way I wouldn’t have to bother pulling it out since it just needed contact with my skin to be used.
Normally, I’d have been pretty psyched that it worked, but the stakes were too high for me to give it more than a split thought.
The night mares shrieked behind me as I started pouring magic into the wards.
Since the barrier’s spell was intact, all I had to do was add my power to it, strengthening it as the spell weakened and sputtered.
I planted my hands on the barrier, which heated my hands even as my purple magic spilled into the spell, mingling with the soft yellow light.
I could tell I was doing a better job than the first time I had tried this, during the summer.
My magic came much faster, and now that I knew ward spells like the back of my hand, I knew exactly how to channel magic through my prism.
The barrier flickered, the glowing symbols on it alternating between scorching with magic and dying to a dim flicker.
No. I’m not giving up any more land.
I set my shoulders and dragged more magic through my prism.
My purple magic now liberally coated the section of wall in front of me.
But it was a drop in the bucket.
The ward enclosed the entire Night Realm. My bits of magic were swirling down the length of the barrier, but I couldn’t pour magic in fast enough. I might be able to fortify a small section of the ward, but it was too big. I’d never be able to fortify the whole thing.
I peered up and down the length of the wall, my heart squeezing painfully when I saw the yellow magic shake and tremble.
This is impossible. There’s no way I could ever pour enough magic into it to power the whole barrier.
“No!” I screamed.
I leaned into my palms, as if I could pour more magic in through sheer will, but my powers were starting to falter.
Just like it had in the parking lot at the market, magic flowed through my prism at a slower and slower rate.
“Come on—I need more magic!” I shouted.
The barrier shook under my hands, and the rumbling grew louder and louder as the black smog on the other side of the barrier pushed.
The magic wall shoved me back about a horse length, almost pushing me off my feet when I locked my knees.
“No! Not again! I’ve practiced so much—I won’t let it happen again!” I shouted, my voice hoarse.
The barrier vibrated, and it hurt my hands to touch it. Pressing my shoulder into it, I ignored the pain. I tried yanking on more magic, but it barely trickled through my prism now.
My purple magic had spread farther down the barrier, but it was a pathetic distance compared to what it needed to be.
No—no! I vowed I wouldn’t let this happen again! I can’t!
“Leila!”
Someone grabbed me by the arm and yanked me backwards. “We have to run!” It was Lord Linus. He dragged me off, pulling me away from the barrier.
“I can’t!” I shouted. “I can’t let us lose any more land! I have to support the ward!”
“You aren’t strong enough!” His callous but true words ripped my heart open.
“I have to try!” I argued.
“Not if it’s going to get you killed! Ready, Chase?”
I tried to yank my arms from Lord Linus’s grip, and even managed to elbow him in the throat, but he somehow managed to throw me up to Chase—who was mounted on Fax.
“Chase, put me down—now!” I snarled.
“Forgive me, Queen Leila, but you have to leave. It’s not safe.” Chase wheeled Fax around.
“But I’m the queen—I have to protect this realm!” I tried to wriggle free, but Chase, with his werewolf strength, had an iron grip.
I would have considered using magic on him, but when he’d become my director of security I’d outfitted him with every anti-magic charm, potion, and talisman I could find. The guy was practically a walking anti-magic blanket.
I looked back at the magic barrier and saw it tremble. The ground shook, and the wall started collapsing inward. “No!”
Chase heeled Fax, and the gelding took off, the night mares effortlessly surging around him.
The sun stallion was a blazing spot of light in the endless stretch of the Night Realm, as he fearlessly galloped on, illuminating everything around us.
We rode for what felt like forever, and the whole time the barrier shrunk behind us, giving up land to the toxic air on the other side of the barrier, which incinerated what little life remained in the realm.
We passed the ruined skeleton of a cabin—marked out by timbers, a half-caved in roof, and a door that hung off its hinges.
When the barrier passed over it and the toxic air on the other side touched it, it turned to dust and caved in.
I was crying by the time we stopped, my heart breaking.
I failed. We lost land—so much land.
I watched in misery as the ward finally ground to a halt behind us, the wall once again strong and bright.
But it didn’t matter. The realm hadn’t just lost a bit of land. The diameter of the barrier had shrunk horribly, and we’d lost acres of the realm.
I slipped off Fax’s back once Chase let me go and was only vaguely aware that Lord Linus circled around us, riding Twilight.
My knees gave out, and I sat down on the ground hard.
“I couldn’t stop it,” I whispered. “I was supposed to—I have to. And I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t do anything.”
“Leila, this isn’t your fault.” Lord Linus knelt in front of me. “The degradation of the Night Realm has been going on for decades—you can’t expect to come in and in a matter of months be able to hold up the wards!”
I slowly shook my head. “It doesn’t matter how much I practice. I’ll never be able to stop it. I’m not powerful enough, and my artifact won’t work for me.” I turned to the
night mares, who were all ringed around us. “Why did you choose me? You should have chosen someone who could have stopped this!”
Chase dismounted Fax and stood near Lord Linus and me. “Yes, she’s unharmed—but she’s upset. Tell Rigel, and come as soon as you can,” he rumbled into his phone.
I shook my head, unable to reckon with this ugly truth.
I’d been daring enough to take on the Night Court. I was crazy enough to think I could one day outmaneuver the other Courts before I died of old age. But this…there was no escaping the bitter truth.
I’d never be able to save the Night Realm. No amount of scheming and plotting could.
I was going to fail at the most important part of my duties.
Lord Linus gently touched my shoulder. “Leila?”
I tipped forward, slumping against Lord Linus.
He smoothed my hair and rocked me slightly. “It’s okay, Leila. You did great. You’re an amazing queen,” he said.
I shut my eyes, holding in tears that made my face burn. No. I’m not any kind of queen at all.
Late that night, I sat in my bedroom, rolling my prism back and forth across my palms.
My alarm clock read 2:58 am. I’d said my goodnights to Skye and Indigo sometime around midnight—they’d spent the majority of the day with me, trying to encourage me after I’d gotten back from the Night Realm.
But my initial estimation hadn’t been off. According to my aides and officials, this was the largest land shrinkage the Night Realm had seen in fifty years.
And I couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
Indigo and Skye had tried to put a positive spin on it and pointed out it might have been worse without my support, but I wasn’t fooled.
I saw how much of the spell my purple magic had covered. It was miniscule in comparison to what it needed to be.
I sighed and paced back and forth in front of my bed. I’d tried exercising and then soaking in my bathtub—which was practically big enough to swim in—but while I was mentally exhausted, the bitter knowledge of my failure kept me up and moving.
Kevin and Steve were sitting on their two giant dog beds. When I stopped to turn around in front of them, Kevin sighed and Steve whined.
I paused long enough to pet each one of them, then went back to pacing.
Muffin was sitting on my bed, looking generally crabby as I passed her. She purred easily enough when I scratched under her chin, but when I went back to my pacing, she growled and flicked her tail.
The lights were mostly off in my room—I still had my bathroom lights on, but I hadn’t wanted to disturb the glooms and shades in case they wanted to sleep—so it was pretty dark.
I glanced at the door separating my room from Rigel’s.
A thin line of light was visible in the small slit between the door and the flooring.
Rigel was up.
He’d been up ever since he’d entered his room at about one—I’d heard his door open and close and saw the lights flick on.
There was something comforting about knowing I wasn’t the only one up.
I paused in front of the door and reluctantly reached out and rested my hand on the knob. “Rigel?” I was pretty sure he could hear me through the door—fae had better hearing than humans and halves like me—but I still opened the door slowly.
Rigel was standing over by his couch—which was covered in daggers, darts, knives, and arrows. A large chest was positioned next to the couch, and he placed the dagger he’d been cleaning back in the chest, then flicked his eyes in my direction.
“I saw you were up, and I just…” I trailed off, not really sure what else to say.
Rigel picked up another dagger and started cleaning it. “You can’t sleep?”
I shrugged. “I can’t stop thinking about the barrier.”
“You’re still upset?”
“Well, yeah! I failed the whole Court! I’m not just going to forget about it,” I snapped.
Rigel stared blankly at me.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry—you didn’t mean it like that.” I popped my eyes open and forced myself to smile.
Rigel picked up an arrow and inspected it. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I am surprised—though I should have known better by now. You are different.”
“What does that mean?” I stood awkwardly in the threshold of his bedroom and leaned against the doorframe.
“It means any other monarch would have found a way to blame someone else, or shrugged it off by now. But you genuinely care. It’s why you do so many unexpected things.”
“Thanks. I think.” I glanced back over my shoulder at the unbearable darkness of my room and cleared my throat. “If you’re going to be up for a while, could I—um—hang out with you?” I hated the way my voice sounded hopeful and went up at the end.
Rigel gestured to his bed.
I fidgeted. “Uhhh…?”
“You’ll have to sit on my bed,” Rigel clarified. “All other spaces are taken.” He motioned to the small armory spread around him.
I picked my way across his room and hopped up on the bed. He had a pile of pillows nestled against the headboard. I rearranged a few to lean into and prop me up.
“Are all these chests filled with weapons?” I asked.
Rigel loaded a bolt into a crossbow and checked it before unloading it and putting the bolt in the chest. “Mostly. They’re not all mine, though.”
“How does that work?”
“At least half of them are pieces from my family lines. I decided it was better to bring them here than leave them at the family house since I will no longer be in residence there,” Rigel said.
“And all your family members are deceased?”
“Yes.”
“Ahh.” I wriggled deeper into the pillows and watched Rigel at work.
Muffin came inside a minute later.
She almost knocked a dagger off an end table, but a look from Rigel was enough to discourage her.
Steve and Kevin came in shortly after that. They sniffed around but settled on a rug by the foot of the bed.
An hour ticked past, and Rigel had almost finished putting all of his weapons back in the chest.
There was something soothing about watching him work, even if he was as silent as a shadow.
The cheerful light of the room and the warmth of the pillows had me yawning as he started on the last remaining item—a quiver of arrows.
“Thank you,” I said, breaking the silence of the room.
Rigel gently pulled the arrows from the quiver, then glanced in my direction. “For?”
“For letting me stay in here.” I paused, unsure if I should continue. “And for helping and supporting me. I didn’t really think we’d ever be like this.”
Although his facial expression didn’t change, a mischievous light glittered in Rigel’s eyes. “You never pictured curling up in an assassin’s bed while he cleaned his weapons nearby? How disappointing.”
I gave the obligatory chuckle.
“I support you because I can see what you’re trying to accomplish for the Court, and everyone can see that you care about the fae. That’s something I didn’t expect.” He cleaned an arrow and slid it back into the quiver.
“Maybe, but this has turned out drastically different from what I told you it would be like when we got married,” I said. “I know it’s your choice, but I still appreciate it. I’m glad you said yes.”
“To marriage?”
“Yeah.”
Rigel put the last arrow in the quiver. He stowed it, then shut the trunk.
When he left the chest where it was and started to saunter across the room, I made myself sit up.
That’s my cue. He probably wants to be done for the night.
“Thanks for letting me—”
Rigel interrupted me. “You can stay.”
I blinked. “What?”
“If it really does help, you can stay.”
We stared at each other for a very fr
agile moment, and I wasn’t sure how to react.
Despite all of my trolling, we’d kept a pretty strong line between us. His invitation to stay wasn’t really crossing that line, but it moved it.
We were married, but Rigel wasn’t romantically interested in me. I was pretty sure I could do the salsa with daggers—a thing he was deeply interested in—strapped over every inch of me and he wouldn’t even twitch.
But this invitation was almost a bigger deal. He wasn’t just supporting me, in a way he was letting me in.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes.” Rigel slapped my feet as he passed by. “As long as you stay on that side of the bed.”
I knew how to deal with joking, that put us back on familiar territory. “Oh come on. I’m not going to ravish you in your sleep.” I rolled my eyes as I rearranged the pillows for sleeping.
“You have an obsession for my abdominals,” Rigel said. “I’m not taking any chances.”
He met my gaze, and I cracked—laughing in a night I didn’t think it would be possible to find joy in.
I slid my feet under the covers. “You’re a pretty perfect consort, Rigel.”
“I don’t know that anyone else would agree with you.”
“That doesn’t matter. I think so, and you’re my consort,” I said.
Rigel lay down on the top of his bed, still fully clothed.
Considering the time I’d busted into his room in the early morning and he’d been shirtless, maybe he really was worried I was going to try something.
I grinned, and my eyelids slowly shut.
The endless tirade in my mind that reminded me of the day’s horrible failure quieted, and I drifted off, thinking that it really was better to be with someone than alone.
Chapter Fourteen
Rigel
I’d been fairly certain there was no way Leila was going to stay on her side of the bed.
I’d heard enough of her restless sleeping habits through the walls—she kicked at her covers, rolled across her mattress, and moved around a lot—to know better.
What I hadn’t expected was that she would creep her way across the mattress and burrow down in the covers half underneath me.
Between using the blankets and my body, she’d made a cave for herself. Only the top of her head poked out of the blankets, and she’d snuggled into me and pressed her head into the bottom of my jaw and my neck.