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

by K. M. Shea

“We cannot behead the staff of the Original King.” Skye had been in the process of putting her tin back, but now she flipped it open and grabbed another chalky tablet. “That would be utterly disrespectful!”

  “Indeed,” Chrysanthe added.

  “Sorry for offending you,” I muttered.

  “It was an understandable idea,” Indigo said. “But even if you did only take the top, that would be pretty unwieldy to use. Perhaps we could put a shrinking spell on it?”

  Skye audibly gasped.

  Indigo rolled her eyes, and again proved why she and I were in tune. “Be scandalized, but the fact of the matter is I’m not hauling that thing around—it’s twice my size! And Leila obviously can’t carry it into the middle of meetings. King Fell will purposely construe it as she’s declaring war.”

  “The staff does present a problem,” Chase agreed.

  I glanced at the staff—which was leaning against my chair—but I’d gotten distracted when Indigo had mentioned Fell and a possible war.

  That’s right. The Paragon said gathering allies is the fastest way to make these people back off. But while I’m highly motivated to get them to stop coming after me, what if they just switch their target to Verdant? Or one of the seelie or unseelie Courts that are too small to defend themselves?

  I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, tuning out the conversation as they discussed the possibility of getting me a staff bearer—whatever that was.

  If I’m reading the situation right, they’re targeting us fae because they see us as the weakest. Not physically, but emotionally. There’s already a ton of infighting. If they can tip the scale just a little, we’ll finish ourselves off.

  I didn’t so much feel as sense something was near my leg. I opened my eyes, expecting to see Kevin or Steve had crawled under the table, but I was surprised to see Rigel’s thigh near mine.

  When I looked quizzically at him, he held out his hand.

  Acting like a complete teenager, I shyly put my hand in his. I hoped I wasn’t blushing when Rigel curled the fingers of his free hand around my wrist.

  Stop it. No fussing, I told myself. I just chatted with a hydra. I’m pretty sure I can handle holding someone’s hand—even if it happens to be the hand of the guy I like.

  I grimaced a little, and forcibly refocused.

  But if the infighting is such a problem, does that mean my original scheme to stop the Courts from playing all these stupid power games could actually solve the problem? Is it really like one of those kids shows where the answer to the quest is ‘the friends we made along the way’?

  It seemed corny, but if I could bind everyone together, wouldn’t that make us too difficult a target? But I’d hoped I’d be able to accomplish that goal by the time I was a granny—could I really get anything done when I was dealing with sneaky, conniving, and selfish fae?

  Maybe. But it would probably mean risking my neck more than I do already. And when I was first made queen, I promised myself I’d survive for Mom’s sake, if not my own.

  “Your heartbeat remains steady—you aren’t contemplating murdering Fell, I take it?” Rigel asked.

  I gawked at him. “Can you seriously hear my heartbeat over all these conversations?”

  Indigo and Chase were still discussing the puzzle of my staff, but Skye and Chrysanthe had moved on to determining who should carry what when accompanying me to official situations, all while the Paragon yacked at Lord Linus and Solis about Aphrodite’s diet—which involved chicken livers and fresh fish.

  Rigel tapped his finger that rested against the underside of my wrist. “No, I felt it.”

  “Huh. Missed your calling as a doctor, did you?”

  “Hardly.”

  I laughed and studied Rigel’s profile.

  The assassin did have looks that could kill—as Dad would say with his great love of dad jokes and puns.

  Rigel went from assassin to consort in a matter of months. That’s a huge change. But how could I inspire a similar change in the other Courts?

  When I thought of the hunt and of all the bullying Fell had done—with Rime doing zero to stop him—I was inclined to think it was impossible.

  Except.

  I’d remained sober at the Paragon’s tea, and heard my fellow monarchs’ deepest worries.

  “Rigel, you know the monarchs—and presumably you’ve seen them at their worst with your, er, job being what it is.” I glanced at my husband. “What is your impression of them?”

  Rigel let go of my wrist, but he kept holding my hand. “What in particular are you referring to?”

  My gaze wandered to Chrysanthe. “I thought fae were jerks because they had a natural thirst for power, and were never satisfied. But it seems more like they’re scared.”

  I’d seen it in the way Birch tried to protect Flora and his hidden daughter. I’d seen it in the way Verdant attacked me because she thought she couldn’t risk being the lowest Court in the region. And a part of me wondered, after seeing the wreckage of the Autumn Court, if Fell had come to the Night Court because he didn’t know what else to do.

  “They don’t trust anyone but themselves,” I continued. “They’re too afraid to risk showing their cards for fear that they’ll be betrayed. They fight and struggle and kick one another down because they don’t think there’s another way.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Rigel finally said. “There is some thirst for power among them—or they could not be rulers. But they fear a lot: the future, each other, their own demise, the demise of their Court.”

  He shifted in his chair. “Fear is a powerful emotion—stronger than anger and courage. It can make a person ruthless in their objective, or spur them into inaction.”

  “But how can we get them to stop being suspicious of one another when they have such a bloody history?” I asked.

  Rigel shrugged—a barely visible twitch of his shoulders. “You did it with the Night Court.”

  “Oh, please,” I snorted. “I scared them into obedience. Marrying you was enough to make the most deviant of them toe the line, because they knew they’d end up with an assassin king.”

  “Fear is not what drove them to follow you to the market, or go to the movie theater as a Court outing,” Rigel said. “The Night Court lived in terror of Queen Nyte. But you? They have come to believe in.” Rigel flicked his eyes at Chrysanthe, then Solis.

  “Huh.” I leaned back in my chair.

  That trick won’t quite work for the other monarchs. But am I really sure I want to do anything? If I make a public alliance with the Drakes and House Medeis—and I could probably get something with the werewolves if I ask Chase—that alone might be enough to get my would-be-killers to back off.

  If I could pull that off, I’d be able to survive, and still plan to end these stupid power games by the time I died—a much more doable deadline.

  But what about everyone else?

  For a moment, Birch’s miserable expression, Rime’s bleak face, and Verdant’s puffy eyes from crying hit me much the same way I wanted to run Fell over with my truck.

  They don’t want help. Verdant accepted it for the sake of her stag, but they’re too afraid. They’ll never ask for help—Fell proved that.

  I felt it deep in my bones. No one—except possibly Solis—would ever ask for help if they badly needed it. They would rather suffer in silence than alert others to a potential weakness.

  But does it really matter if they won’t ask for help? Shouldn’t I act anyway because it’s the right thing to do? …And then possibly get stabbed in the back because hah-hah, turns out one of them was behind the attacks the whole time?

  I sighed, and nearly jumped in my chair when Rigel squeezed my hand.

  “You forget, Leila. You’re half fae and half human,” he said. “And—as you once told our Court—you got the best of both bloodlines. You can do things others can’t.”

  “Like lie?” I asked.

  “Like see how the scramble for power is bred out of fear,” Rige
l said. “And since you are not part of it, you can act outside of it.”

  I stared at Rigel, and couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Rigel. You’re brilliant. That’s another reason why I love you.”

  “If you want the Day King to hear, you’ll have to say that louder,” Rigel said.

  Ahaha, once again my confession is given the smack down. It’s fine. Totally fine. Besides, that’s an issue to deal with later. I’ve made up my mind—I’m going to help those squirmy, twerpy monarchs whether they want it or not. I’m getting rid of their silly games, immediately. Even though they’ll probably keep trying to kill me as a result. Sorry, Mom, but it’s probably on you anyway for raising me this way.

  Yes, that sounded like a totally healthy coping mechanism—blame someone else.

  I smirked a little as I rotated away from my sadly-not-infatuated husband. “Hey, Solis!” I called out to the Day King. “Remember how I dragged your drunk butt back to your house after that boozer of a tea party the Paragon threw?”

  “It was not a boozer,” the Paragon huffed into his clay cup.

  Solis slightly inclined his head. “Indeed, a servant reminded me the following day when I woke up.”

  “Great. I’m calling in that favor,” I said. “I want you to call a meeting with the other monarchs—those of us in the Fae Ring specifically—and host it in the Day Realm.”

  “That’s all?”

  “It’d be great if we could have it in a week, maybe. But yeah, that’s all,” I said.

  Solis lifted a teacup to me in a sort of salute. “Consider it done. What excuse should I give them for such a meeting?”

  “Say we have to talk about the skull monster or something—just don’t tell them I asked for it,” I said.

  The Paragon peered at me over the top of Aphrodite’s head. “What are you planning?”

  I grinned, purposely showing more of my teeth than a regular smile. “A good old fashioned coup d’état!”

  I’m not sure what was louder. The rattle of Skye’s antacid tin, Indigo’s indignant “What?” or Aphrodite’s pleased “Mmert!”

  Obviously, I had come up with a simply brilliant plan.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Leila

  My palms were sweating like crazy as I stared at the door to the meeting room Solis had designated for us.

  Rime was the last monarch to arrive—besides me—and I’d watched her go through the doors about a minute ago.

  It was almost time for me to make my move.

  I exhaled and fanned my sleeves slightly. While the autumn air was cold and icy in the human world, here in the Day Realm the sun beat with extra strength—I was going to become a sweaty mess if we stayed out here much longer.

  I gripped the white stone bannister and tried not to look down—the Day Palace was made of several really tall towers that stretched high to the sky in an effort to take in as much sunlight as possible. We were pretty high up here, and while I didn’t know if I was afraid of heights or not, now was not an ideal time to find out if I was.

  Indigo patted my hands. “You’ll do fantastic,” she said.

  I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t move. “Thanks. Is the tea ready?”

  “I’ve got it brewed—just keeping a charm on it so it stays warm,” Indigo nodded to the tea cart parked next to the room. She put her fists on her hips as she looked me up and down. “And I don’t mind saying so myself, but you look gorgeous. Doesn’t she, Consort Rigel?” Indigo turned to Rigel for confirmation.

  I maybe would have felt awkward under his careful consideration, but I was too wound up about the meeting to feel anything besides the somersaults my stomach was performing.

  Something—fondness, maybe—played in Rigel’s dark eyes. He took a step closer to me. “You look ready for the battle you’re about to enter—and win.”

  I stood a little straighter; the slight weight of my crown made me more aware of my posture, and I pulled my shoulders back. “Thank you. And thank you, Indigo, for your help.”

  Indigo waved a hand through the air. “Think nothing of it—it was fun! This is the first time you’re really showing off your fae blood.”

  What she meant was it was the first time I was wearing a gown by a fae designer.

  Of course, this meant the dress was made of gauzy material with enough gems sewn into the torso of my gown to make it sparkle, but it did give me that extra flair that human gowns lacked.

  The dress itself was somewhat reminiscent of human fashion—a mermaid gown with a v-neck, made of dark purple fabric and accented with silver detailing that looked like stars if you squinted just right. The fae flair came in the gauzy cloak—the same dark shade of purple as the dress, but see-through except for the silver star embroidery—that settled over my shoulders like sleeves and cascaded down my back.

  It had the very pleasing effect of billowing with my hair—long and loose—whenever I walked.

  That was the vibe we were going for—wild, unbound, and hopefully dangerous. Or bossy—whatever worked best for the moment.

  “It’s time.” Skye looked up from the stopwatch app she’d been using on her phone and nodded to me.

  I nodded, and gathered up my cloak/train a little so I could walk up to the meeting room without getting it dirty.

  “Good luck, my Sovereign,” Chrysanthe said.

  I frowned at her in surprise. “Aren’t you coming in with us?”

  Chrysanthe’s cheeks turned the faintest pink, and she snuck a peek at Chase, who was standing off to the side with a small band of Night Court guards. “My presence will not help you. I’d rather stay out here and maybe be of use in other ways?”

  Oohh, someone has a thing for Chase!

  It wasn’t shocking—the werewolf was as attractive as he was likeable. I mean, I married above my league with Rigel—especially when he smiled—but Chase was handsome with his yellow werewolf eyes that set off his sepia-brown skin and warm grins.

  It was maybe a little surprising because supernaturals don’t tend to mix romantically, but it wasn’t taboo or anything.

  In fact, Chrysanthe’s little revelation was the cute moment I needed—it made me relax a little.

  I could embrace my new friend developing a crush on my director of security. That was way more fun than the smack down I was about to deal.

  But I’m not going to stand by and let the fae get wiped out because the other Courts in the Midwest are stubborn, I reminded myself.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

  Chrysanthe stopped giving Chase a sappy look, and her expression turned serious as she bowed to me. “Of course, my Sovereign. I’ll follow you wherever you go.”

  “Thanks, Chrys.” I smiled at my unlikely new friend, then set my shoulders, and strode up to the meeting room.

  If I thought about it, I’d talk myself out of it, so I didn’t stop at the doors, but shoved them in, striding into the meeting room with all of the false bravado I could muster…and was totally unprepared for what I found.

  All the monarchs were present, and Solis had chosen a pleasant room, well-lit by sunlight from the giant windows on either side of the door, which bounced off the many mirrors hammered into the white plaster walls.

  A round table was placed in the center of the room—with a massive sun design cut into its wooden surface. I had imagined the monarchs would sit around the table and exchange insults.

  Instead, they had erupted into a brawl.

  Verdant jumped on Birch’s back, and was attempting to put a choke hold on the Summer King. “You killed my stag!” she screamed at the Summer King—whose veins were starting to pop on his forehead.

  “Verdant, this is not the wisest course of action.” Solis tried to pry her off without injuring her, and he got elbowed in the nose for his trouble.

  He slapped his hands over his nose and staggered backwards a few steps as Birch roared and tried to shake the determined queen off.

  “Then you
shouldn’t have been weak—urk!” He yelped in pain when Verdant grabbed a lock of his hair and ripped it out of his scalp.

  Rime, of all people, gripped the front of Fell’s tunic, and the pair was growling at each other like territorial dogs.

  “You dropped an undefeatable monster into another Court’s territory!” Rime snarled.

  “It was just the Night Court—I didn’t know she had a hydra under her sway!” Fell tried to brush her off, but Rime just grabbed him by his gaudy pauldrons instead.

  “You could have wiped a whole Court out!”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Call the Curia Cloisters for help!” Rime said.

  “And let them trash my realm? Besides—why are you upset? I just used the Night Court.”

  “Because you obviously are willing to do it to any of our Courts, which means you’re a liability!” Rime snapped.

  Fell scoffed, and glanced at Solis, who had recovered enough from the elbow to the face to stand upright again. “Solis, back me up—it was within my right to act as I did.”

  “No.” Solis shook his head. “I agree with Queen Rime. That you were willing to sacrifice an entire realm because you refused to call for help signals you are not of sound mind. What would you have done if Leila hadn’t defeated it?”

  “Last I checked you were well below me on the power structure.” Fell turned away from Rime and poked a finger in Solis’s direction. “Don’t forget to whom you speak.”

  Solis caught Fell’s wrist. “Of course I know whom I’m talking to—you’re a puppy that’s constantly yapping.” He shoved Fell’s arm away with enough force to make the Autumn King stagger.

  “What?” Fell snarled.

  I stared at the scuffle in a mixture of awe and shock. I figured the other monarchs hid themselves behind their fancy costumes and pointless ceremonies like all the other fae, but I never suspected that when it was stripped away I’d get to see how emotional they really were.

  Huh. This is educational.

  I watched Birch fall to his knees then keel over backwards, crushing Verdant underneath him. “Well,” I said. “There goes my big entrance.”