Crown of Moonlight (Court of Midnight and Deception Book 2)

by K. M. Shea

  Lady Chrysanthe triumphantly tilted her head back. “I think it could be an artifact used by a past ruler that’s on display!”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “What?”

  Skye leaned forward, intrigued. “Why would you believe that?”

  “She’s powerful enough to pull the Night Realm out. Wouldn’t it stand to reason she’s powerful enough to use one of the treasured artifacts?” Lady Chrysanthe said.

  “We could certainly test your theory out,” Skye said.

  “I’m not convinced—and I’m not super eager to touch royal artifacts either,” I snorted. “Last time Lord Linus had me touch one it lit me up like a Christmas tree! It wasn’t fine.”

  Wrinkles spiderwebbed across Skye’s forehead. “An artifact reacted to you when you touched it?”

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said? It fried me with power!” I mulishly crossed my arms across my chest.

  Skye set her hands on my shoulders. “Which one?”

  I sucked my neck into my shoulders. “The staff of the original king.”

  “I’m going to go get it, then you can show us what you mean.” Skye stood up and was halfway across the patio before I realized what she was saying.

  “Wait—is that okay? I thought those artifacts were super sacred or something.”

  “They are sacred, but it’s not that Night Court monarchs aren’t allowed to touch them—there’s just never been anyone who resonated with them. I’ll be back!” Excited, Skye hopped through one of the many shattered windows, disappearing into the castle.

  About ten seconds passed before I realized this meant I was stuck on the patio with Lady Chrysanthe-the-awkward, and I regretted not following Skye.

  The fae lady was admiring her teacup with great care—just enough so she didn’t have to look at me.

  Why is she being like this? Weird.

  I cast around for a conversation topic so I didn’t have to sit and watch her stare at her teacup the whole time Skye was gone. “I hope you liked going to the movies—despite those shadow snake things.”

  “The movie theater was very enjoyable.” Lady Chrysanthe sat on a rickety wooden chair that I would have sworn wasn’t stable enough to use. “I had not bothered to view human entertainment prior to the excursion, but it was interesting and educational. Many members of the Night Court were deeply intrigued by the concept of human entertainment.”

  “By the movie theater, or the actual movies themselves?” I asked.

  “Although we all agree the movie theater was delightful—even if it did not accept gold coins as legal tender—the movies in particular were intriguing.”

  “Huh. Maybe I’ll have a monthly Netflix night at the mansion—popcorn and snacks would be a lot cheaper than the usual meals I have to provide,” I grumbled.

  Lady Chrysanthe sipped her tea and said nothing more.

  Well. That topic died quickly. Am I reading her wrong and she doesn’t actually want to talk?

  I arched my back and casually stretched my arms above my head, figuring I should settle into silence.

  Lady Chrysanthe stared expectantly at me, her blond hair dappled by the ever-present moon.

  Okay, silence is not what she wants.

  “What brings you to the Night Realm this early?” I asked.

  Lady Chrysanthe set her teacup in the saucer with a quiet clack—speaking of which, where was she getting hot tea from if she’d been here since six?

  “I have taken to pondering and reflecting more as a new part of my day,” she said. “The Night Realm is a wonderful place to think.”

  I eyed the crumbling castle, dry fountain, and half-dead gardens. “Is it?”

  “Indeed. I feel that this space reflects my inner mood.”

  I almost rolled my eyes, figuring this was just another way she was implying she would be a better queen than me, until I rewound what she’d said and chewed through it a second time.

  It reflects her inner mood? This barren, dead place? I peered at her with a new thought dawning on me. Is she…is she lonely? Is that why I’ve seen her around more?

  I felt stupid even wondering about it.

  I just assumed fae—being what they are—could never feel something like loneliness. If they could they’d be lonely for most of their lives. Was I wrong?

  I thought of Indigo hiding her interests, of how Skye used to use her serenity as a mask, and even Rigel and the way he used his lethality to draw a line between him and everyone else.

  I could be horribly wrong. She could be attempting another political maneuver. But I don’t think her pride would allow her to be this awkward even if she was.

  I scratched my arm and wished Skye would hurry up and get back. “Yeah, is everything okay with you? I’ve noticed you haven’t been hanging around with your friends much.”

  I expected a huff, maybe a sharply worded rebuttal, or perhaps an overly cloying reply if she really was doing this for politics.

  Instead, Lady Chrysanthe stared at her teacup. “They weren’t my friends. They were fae roughly my age and from appropriately powerful houses—social connections. We weren’t particularly close, but I didn’t realize how much they hated me until you revealed Myron’s actions.”

  I didn’t want to pressure her, so I studied one of the castle’s shattered windows. “That seems sad.”

  “It is the way of the fae,” Lady Chrysanthe said. “We must use every connection to our advantage. Personal preference means nothing compared to political power. Who cares if the one you call a friend may betray you in a week—you just need to make sure you use them for your causes before then.”

  Whoa, that is dark. What do I even say to that?

  “But you act differently,” Lady Chrysanthe abruptly said. “You treat your inner circle with kindness and trust. You know your people—not because you wish to use your knowledge against them, but because they’re important to you. I want that.”

  She rested her saucer on her knee. “I’m tired of pretending, tired of playing a game no one is ever going to win. That’s why I’m telling you this.” She met my gaze. “Because I don’t wish to keep living for power.”

  She held my gaze, but she still swallowed nervously, and her hands trembled a little.

  Is that what she’s been doing this whole time since she got weird? Trying to talk to me?

  I studied the fae lady, who had previously mocked and laughed at me. “You wanna be friends?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leila

  Chrysanthe blushed such a bright pink she practically glowed in the soft light of the Night Realm. “Friends? You are incredibly forward, Queen Leila, to think your offer of friendship would matter.” Though her voice was haughty, it was impossible to miss how happy she was.

  She ripped her eyes from mine and peered around, her nose up in the air, but her hands had stopped shaking, and the tiniest smile—a real smile, not one of spite—played at her lips even though she tried to smooth it out.

  Aw, there’s no harm playing with her a little—she needs to loosen up anyway.

  “Oh? In that case I’ll apologize for my forwardness and rescind the offer of friendship,” I said.

  “There’s no need for that!” Lady Chrysanthe rushed to say. “I happen to be very understanding. I’ll look past it.”

  “No, no. I couldn’t possibly leave it—based on what you’ve said it seems like a terrible faux pas!”

  “The mistake has already been made. You cannot take it back,” Lady Chrysanthe primly said. “You merely must strive not to repeat it.”

  “Admit it, Chrys,” I said. “You really want to be my friend.”

  Her nose went up a little higher, and her blush deepened to a shade of red. “Hmph!”

  “You’re not even going to protest your nickname? Now I know you want to be friends. Don’t worry—everyone will warm up to you. Well, except Rigel. I’m pretty sure he only warms up to animals.”

  “I would never presume to correct a queen on the way t
o address me.” Lady Chrysanthe sipped her tea—which had to be cold by now.

  “I have no idea how you just managed to say that massive lie. Was it because you didn’t name me specifically?” I asked.

  “Rude,” Lady Chrysanthe sniffed.

  “Hey, you were the one who wanted to be friends with me.”

  “I never!”

  I laughed loudly enough to stir the night mares from where they’d been inspecting the half-dead gardens. “Sorry, my lovelies,” I called to them. “It’s fine!”

  I grinned as I watched them go back to nibbling on some of the few half-alive shrubberies. “They still are skinny. Why can’t I get them to gain any weight?”

  “Their appearance reflects the state of the Court,” Lady Chrysanthe said.

  “Yeah, so I’ve been told. But I don’t think things are in that dire of straits anymore. I mean, they should at least be able to stop drooling blood!” I said.

  “I have brought it,” Skye announced. She reverently held the staff in front of her, her hands wrapped in what looked like a silk banner so she wasn’t touching the staff with her bare skin. She went through the door this time—can’t be casual and hop through a broken window while carrying the staff of the Original Creep. No, no!

  “Great,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster. “I’m stoked.”

  “It’s a worthwhile experiment,” Lady Chrysanthe said.

  “Yeah, except neither of you have to touch it, and I do,” I grumbled.

  “If it works, it means you’ll be able to defend the lands better,” Skye—knowing just where to poke me—said.

  “Okay, okay, let’s get this over with. I’m staying seated this time though,” I grumbled.

  Skye held out the staff for me. I gritted my teeth, then set my fingertips on the crescent moon top.

  Again, the world rocked as magic pulsed through my brain. It felt like I was simultaneously on fire and drowning. I felt the wild magic everywhere—it was so strong I couldn’t even see. My brain was too busy trying to cope with the magic that flooded my body.

  Someone yanked my hand off the staff, and I wheezed, finally able to breathe again.

  Once my eyes recovered, I discovered it was Chrysanthe who had plucked my hand off the staff. She and Skye watched me, their worry apparent in different ways. Skye’s forehead wrinkled, while Chrysanthe’s eyebrows traveled halfway up to her hairline.

  “That was not a normal reaction—not even for something like resonating,” Chrysanthe said.

  “I agree,” Skye said. “I expected it would have been calling to you, and you just didn’t notice until you touched it. But that was…not what calling looks like. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it seemed to be an incomplete resonation.”

  “But how could that be?” Chrysanthe asked. “The staff is whole. A part of it would have to be broken for an incomplete resonation.”

  I coughed. “It’s that Original Creep. I seriously dislike him.”

  “The original king has nothing to do with your reaction to his staff,” Skye said.

  “Maybe not, but I’d seriously love to deck him for all the trouble he’s saddled me with,” I grumbled. “Then I’d feel a lot better about life.”

  “If you feel that strongly about him, we could egg his gravesite,” Chrysanthe, of all people, suggested.

  I widened my eyes to the point of goggling. “You’d do that? But you’re from the Night Court! Everyone in the Night Court belongs to the cult of the Original Creep!”

  Chrysanthe shrugged. “When Grandmother believed I had a chance of being the next queen, I read over the rules for becoming the ruler. I also did not think highly of the law that required the monarch to marry before being crowned.”

  “I’m glad we’re friends now,” I said.

  That got another blush out of Chrysanthe, but I was surprised that Skye didn’t react at all. She was staring at the small, chipped crystal that jutted out of the tip of the staff.

  “Skye? Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “No, I just think I have some research to do.” Skye shook her head, then bowed to me. “Thank you for showing us what happens when you touch the staff, my Sovereign. I’ll go return this, and then we should head back to the mansion. You have many important tasks to complete today. Foremost, you need to respond to a correspondence from the Paragon. He’s invited you to his personal pocket realm for tea.”

  “Gotcha. Thanks, Skye.”

  “My pleasure.” Skye smiled at me, but when she turned to go back into the castle—still carrying the staff with her cloth-covered hands—I caught her frowning down at the staff, deep in thought.

  She’ll tell me if she finds something. Whatever it is, though, I hope it’s not bad.

  Based on her expression, I wasn’t sure.

  I was initially pretty excited when Skye told me about the Paragon’s invitation, because I liked him a lot. But when I took a look at the fancy card, I read the fine print and saw it was an invitation for the Fae Ring. In other words, Solis, me, and the four season Courts.

  I didn’t like tea, but it was the idea of getting stuck in a small space with Fell and Birch that inspired me to try to wiggle out of it.

  Skye wouldn’t let me—said it was too important, and then got Indigo to back her up.

  They did let me protest the event in my own small and—as Indigo told me—“unimportant” ways.

  First of all, I drove myself to the meet up point in my truck—don’t get too excited. Chase had installed a wireless camera and a hotspot in my truck for outings like this.

  But I also got to wear comfortable clothes—jeans and a leather jacket I’d gotten pretty fond of—and, most important of all, I first drove to King’s Court Café and got myself a large pumpkin latte so I didn’t have to drink any gross weed water with the rest of the monarchs.

  All of these things combined into one glorious picture as I drove up to the meeting point—the parking lot of the local library—where the other monarchs were waiting with their much fancier cars.

  Fell—leaning against a Rolls-Royce and looking shockingly modern in a black suit—arched an eyebrow at me as I climbed out of my truck. “Is the Night Court so poor you’ve had to take up farming?”

  I fished my latte out of the door cupholder, then locked my truck. “Nah. I just figured if I got the chance to run you over, I should bring something that could get the job done.”

  Fell looked mildly alarmed at my statement of violence.

  I sipped my latte, reveling in the pumpkin flavor. “Oh, that’s good stuff.”

  Fell leaned back and put on what were probably ridiculously expensive sunglasses. “You are worse than a savage mongoose.”

  “Yeah, thanks. What are we waiting on?” I waved to Verdant, who offered me a timid smile before she left her car—some kind of Mercedes, I think—and joined me in front of my truck.

  “The Paragon has to take us to his pocket realm.” Verdant glanced around the parking lot, looking fit for the red carpet with her beautiful green evening gown.

  “I see. Hey, King Birch, is Flora okay?” I asked.

  Birch—dressed similarly to Fell, except he committed to his Court, so his tweed jacket had threads of blue, and he’d chosen a sort of burnt orange slacks—stiffened. “Why do you ask?”

  I squinted at him. “Because she’s not here.”

  “She opted to stay home,” Birch said.

  “And where is your dear consort?” Rime of the Winter Court asked. Besides me, Queen Rime was probably the most casually dressed as she was in dove gray slacks and a white sweater that looked incredibly soft.

  Apparently, tonight the fae had chosen costumes appropriate for “sophisticated business moguls.” Given that their clothes were usually a cue on how they were going to act, I dearly hoped we weren’t going to be making and breaking alliances all night.

  “He didn’t want to come,” I said. “Said he had some stuff to do,” I lied.

  In reality, Rigel had j
ust informed me he wasn’t coming, and that was that. But it was always fun to tease the other monarchs, particularly because it made Fell’s tan complexion turn as pale as a ghost.

  “I’m glad you came regardless, Queen Leila.” Solis strolled up to me, looking very fatherly with his gold turtleneck and wool coat.

  Birch made a noise of dissent, drawing Verdant’s ire.

  “Are you an animal, now, that resorts to grunts to communicate?” she demanded.

  “You’re rather brave considering only a few weeks ago you would have groveled to me on behalf of your stag,” Birch said.

  Verdant stiffened. “Take that back!” she snarled, green magic curling around her like vines.

  “As if you could make me.” Birch shook a finger at her, his magic—a sparkly blue—clouded around him like smoke.

  “That’s enough, children!” The Paragon popped up in the center of our circle. Unlike us, he was not dressed for modern times, but wore a silvery blue robe and a massive scarf that wrapped at least three times around his neck. He adjusted his spectacles and peered around at us. “I must thank you for coming, but remind you all you are my guests. There shall be no threatening each other during this—what is that?”

  The old fae zeroed in on my drink and clutched his long gray beard as he stared at it.

  “Pumpkin latte,” I explained.

  The Paragon tilted his head at me, then relaxed. “An excellent choice. Right, then. Gather around, children! It’s time to go—to my pocket realm!”

  Once we’d all gotten within a step or two of him, the Paragon yanked out a pink coin purse and snapped it open.

  Either the coin purse contained a gate, or it was a gate itself—I didn’t know for sure, because a puff of air made me squeeze my eyes shut. I felt the ground move under my feet, and when I cautiously opened an eye, we were in a room.

  I should explain. Since he’s the top dog of the fae, but isn’t sworn to a Court, the Paragon got his own personal slice of the fae realm. It was small in comparison to a Court’s realm—rumor had it that it included a whole house and several acres of land—but that’s why it’s called a pocket realm.