by Elena Lawson
I could see the same thought written in the fine print of their stares. Something was wrong. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen.
My knees collided with the parquet floor, and I grasped the rim of the cauldron to steady myself—it shook. Or was it me who was shaking? Alaric took my face into his hands and gasped when his eyes met mine, letting go as if burned.
The ground splintered below me, and I cried out.
A thundering groan echoed through the Great Hall, met with shouts and the sounds of retreat.
I turned to find the denizens of my court fleeing the room. Flutes of wine shattered in their haste to get out. Only two remained. My father, standing in the middle of the room, his shoulders tense and mouth agape. The other was a blur of turquoise and gold, in the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest. Tiernan?
Spots of color danced in my peripherals and I lurched forward. The pain pulsed and rose, surging and sinking into my bones.
It climaxed in a great and terrible burst. The last thing I heard was an ear-splitting scream before my body buckled under the pressure and I fell into darkness.
Chapter Eleven
“I’ll tell you what I’ve told you ten times already. She will awaken when she’s ready. The queen is strong,” a foreign voice said, breaking through the storm clouds in my mind, “It was not poison, I would have felt it. My Grace detects nothing—there is no injury.”
“Then why isn’t she awake?” Alaric’s deep voice bellowed.
“I don’t know.”
I attempted to move, but my body tensed. And when I opened my eyes a blinding brightness seared them. I sealed them back shut, groaning.
“Too bright,” I managed to say and heard Thana gasp from my side.
The mattress moved beneath me, and cool hands caressed my cheeks, “Liana?” she whispered, and I could hear the distress in her words.
Someone dampened the light, and I tried to sit up, steady hands wrapping around my shoulders to help me. Blinking, I cleared my vision enough to see a female I didn’t recognize. She removed herself from my bed, Kade, and Finn appearing to take her place. Terror marred Alaric’s strong features and darkened his gaze. Somewhere beside me, Thana made a strangled sound.
And Kade, who was about to say something, closed his mouth in stunned silence.
I reached up to touch my face, thinking there must be something there they’re staring at. Perhaps I injured myself when I fell? But my fingers traced the curve of my jaw, brushed my hair back and found nothing out of the ordinary.
“What is it?” I asked Thana.
Her lips parted, but she said nothing.
I wasn’t Graced. That must be the reason for the fear I saw in their eyes. What would happen to me? Who would reign when the council moved to overthrow me? My father? Ronan? The kingdom would fall to ruin under their reign. But… I had no heir to offer. No Grace to secure my crown. I could only imagine the whispers moving through the palace.
Hot tears welled behind my eyelids. My ancestors be damned. I would fight for my place on the throne because that’s what queens did. Grace or not, I didn’t spend my life preparing, all but alone on the Isle of Mist to give up—to give in. My teeth clenched. “I wasn’t Graced, was I?”
Alaric looked away, “It’s not that, Liana. We aren’t certain whether or not you were Graced. There was no flare of power, but—”
“Then what is it? Why are you all staring at me as though I’m some sort of monster?” No flare of power… That meant no Grace. I was getting angry and wishing they’d all leave.
“Your eyes.” Thana said, climbing from the bed to retrieve the small silver mirror from my dressing table.
My reflection looked the same as always, though I’d admit, the skin around my eyes was swollen, and a bit red. “I don’t see any—”
Wait… The blue of my irises shifted, the deep shade swirling into a lustrous lilac, and then fading to a metallic silver which darkened to a shade near black. The mirror fell from my hands. My pulse quickened, “What does it mean?”
Finn pursed his lips, “We don’t know.” And from the set of his jaw and the perturbed look in his eyes, I gathered there wasn’t much Finn didn’t know, and not knowing this tormented him. “I’ve spent hours going through books and scrolls for two days trying to find out.”
Two days? “How long have I been like this?” I struggled to make out the position of the sun in the sky outside the curtained balcony.
“Nearing three days,” Alaric answered, and my back stiffened. He took my hand, sending waves of calm through me.
Thana brushed my hair back, running her fingers through the silvery strands like she used to when I was a child. “You’ll have to make a formal address to the court.”
“Why?”
She sighed, “They’re demanding to know what happened… Wondering where you are. A few nobles have petitioned the council to put Edris on the throne.”
“He’s been trying to enter your chamber since the ceremony, but we didn’t know what to tell him,” Alaric said, “He wanted to see you were alright.”
I balked, “You mean to see if I’ve been Graced so he knows what his chances are of winning the crown?”
Not one of them disagreed with my statement. Edris was beloved by the denizens of my court. The nobles respected him. But there was something about him—something ingenuine that set my teeth on edge. I didn’t trust him.
Alaric shared a meaningful look with his sentries, all three of them stone faced, eyes blazing, “We won’t let that happen.”
I let go of Alaric’s hand, allowing the anger to seep back in, “Find Edris. Bring him to me.”
I sat in the parlor, awaiting Edris’ arrival. Alaric stood at my side, and Thana lounged in an armchair. Kade left to continue following Selbi, and Finn returned to the library.
My mood had brightened tenfold since leaving my bedchamber. Darius had been hard at work while I slept. The room looked nothing like it had before. Thick, luscious curtains in shades of blue, purple, and silver draped every window. Dark plush carpets covered the floor, and every piece of furniture was reupholstered to match the tasteful summers-night décor.
I couldn’t wait to see him, so I could thank him. He would return soon with the decorator to complete the task since no one would allow him entry into my bedchamber.
Not moments after I sat down, still weakened from the ceremony, Edris arrived, following a servant into the room. He seemed rattled by the change in décor, and I wondered if the ghastly white was his idea, or if the King Consort even spent much time in the royal chambers.
He came back to himself, regarding me with a delicate stare, “Liana,” he breathed, as if he’d only just noticed my presence, “Are you alright? I—we’ve been worried about you.”
“Have you?” I challenged, reigning in the urge to lash out at him like a petulant child.
Edris had the decency to be taken aback at my question, his thick brows dipping low over his eyes. “Of course, I have,” he countered, taking a few more steps forward. “It wasn’t me who instigated the petition to be put into power, if that’s what this is about. I wouldn’t attempt to dethrone my own daughter.”
“Oh, but you would send me away to live on that godsforsaken island for twenty-three years. And you would have left me there longer, hundreds of years maybe, if Enya hadn’t fallen.” I couldn’t help it, I was fuming.
His hands balled into fists at his sides, “That was for your protection. There have already been two attempts on your life since your return. Do you not think it was wise of us to send you away—to—to send you somewhere safe?”
“One,” Alaric said, and it took me a moment to understand what he meant, “There was only one attempt on Liana’s life, and the wraith’s can’t get to her on dry land… unless there’s another incident you know of?”
No one outside of my captain and sentries knew someone tried to poison me. Well, only them and Rin, who was guarded at all times. And the person respons
ible, I thought, and watched as Edris’ face registered shock before it reverted to confusion. “One, yes, that’s what I said.”
He was lying. And I was either about to do something incredibly stupid, or incredibly smart.
“You were right the first time. There were two attempts on my life. It’s a good thing Alaric detected the scent of verbane in my wine or I’d be dead.”
Thana gasped, “And you didn’t tell me of this?”
“No, you only would have worried.”
“You should have told me,” she fussed, leaving the parlor to get some air on the balcony.
Thana was there when I nearly died as a child from eating the poisonous berries, but not she, nor any of the sisters knew I continued to eat them well into adolescence, and often snacked on them during my walks about the isle.
Edris produced an air of concern, his lips turning downward into a frown. “Have you caught the person responsible?” he asked.
“No. And my taster is very thorough, I can’t imagine how she missed it. Though I trust her not to make the same mistake twice.”
Alaric cleared his throat, a habit I now knew was born of nerves, but he said nothing.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Edris offered, his steady gaze betraying nothing. He was good. Too good. I wondered how old he was, and how long he’d had to become adapted to the trickery and scheming that was life at the palace.
I stood, the crown weighing me like a boulder atop my head, “You can keep this knowledge to yourself. No one outside of this room should know. And if you meant what you said, I trust you to see to it that this petition to place you in power is overthrown.”
I watched his adams apple bob when he swallowed and painted on a mask of determination. “I will, Liana.”
“And Edris,” I called after him before he could depart, “You may address me from now on with my proper title.”
Alaric waited for the sound of the main door closing behind Edris before he spoke, his tone laced with fury, “Explain yourself.”
Chapter Twelve
After rushing Thana from the room, I explained to Alaric what I had done. He didn’t agree with me at first, but eventually relented. It was done. There was no taking it back. Though Alaric made it clear he would behead Edris himself and be done with it.
He was convinced Edris was behind the attempts on my life, and though I wasn’t yet certain, I was leaning toward agreeing with him.
But the Night Court adored the King Consort. We couldn’t eliminate him without causing uproar. At least, not until we could provide proof…
If Edris was behind the assassination attempts and thought we suspected him, he would sever all ties to his accomplices and find other means to get rid of me. But if he thought I trusted him with information—and if he thought I trusted my taster, and that I was susceptible to verbane, he may try the same tactic again. And we would be ready when he did.
“You’re reckless,” Alaric murmured once I had finished, “Too reckless. Please include me in your decision making from here on, at least as it pertains to your safety.”
I would make no promises, but I nodded.
“You should rest,” he said, rising from the settee with a stretch and a yawn. “I’ll tell the council you are well and will address the court tomorrow.”
I stood, shaking my head, “You’re the one who needs to rest. Am I wrong to assume you haven’t slept since the ceremony?”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m going to the library to help Finn, and I’ll be there for as long as it takes to figure this out,” I said, drawing air circles around my eyes. “And while I’m doing that, I’d like it if you rested.”
Alaric pressed his lips together in a slight frown, bowing low, a mocking tone to his voice when he said, “Yes, Your Majesty. If that will please you.”
I shoved his chest when he rose, catching him off guard. He stumbled backward a step before regaining his balance and clearing his throat. “Don’t Your Majesty me. Have you seen your reflection? You look terrible. I’m doing you a favor,” I joked, tearing the crown from my head and tossing it onto a cushioned ottoman. “Now, shall we?”
We weren’t in the corridor for more than a few moments when Selbi came into view, walking toward the royal quarters. Kade was no where to be seen, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t following somewhere out of sight.
“Oh, Your Majesty,” she said, speaking in my presence for what I thought was the first time, “I was so glad to hear you’d recovered. The kitchens were just preparing your evening meal, and I thought I would taste—”
“Very good.” I cut her off mid-ramble, and noted how her cheeks inflamed before she could bow her head, “I’ll not be returning to my quarters for a while, but please, go ahead without me. I’ll dine when I return.”
“Yes, majesty,” she squeaked out, taking off at a near run down the corridor.
Before she was out of sight, Kade appeared before us.
“Watch the taster closely,” Alaric barked at Kade before he could open his mouth to greet us. “Liana took it upon herself to stir the pot. Make note of everything she does, and everywhere she goes. I’ll explain later.”
Kade winked at me before he combusted into a cloud of smoke and disappeared. “Did he just…” Did he just disappear?
Alaric clucked his tongue, “Such a showman,” he teased, “Useful trick, though.”
“You think?”
What I wouldn’t give to be invisible too.
Alaric left me at the entrance to the library, having seen the back of Finn, hunched over a heaping pile of texts from across the room. He muttered something about needing to keep tabs on Edris even though I specifically said I wanted him to rest. He left before I could argue, squeezing my hand before dropping it quickly—but not quickly enough. Desire and apprehension crashed over me like a rogue wave into a tidal pool. I didn’t have time to wonder if he’d done it on purpose, or if he ever accidentally pushed his own emotions through to others with his Grace.
Finn spun in his chair as though he could sense me standing there even though I hadn’t made a sound.
“Your Majesty,” he said by way of greeting, “Where’s Alaric?”
“Resting, I hope.” I pulled out the chair across from him at the long table, overwhelmed at the amount of parchment before me. “Have you found anything?”
He ran a hand over the scruff on his jawline, “No. Nothing really. There was this one scroll though,” he lamented, digging through a pile of parchment on the right of the table, “Ah, here.”
I took it from his outstretched hand. It was ancient—written in the language of old, marking it as being aged around five hundred years.
“I can only read bits and pieces. I’ve been teaching myself Melîn, but I haven’t mastered it yet.”
Lucky for him, I could read it. Thana thought it would be a useful language to know, since there were still some Fae—who lived in the villages far to the north, who still spoke it. I studied the scroll, squinting at the faded looping script. It was written by a scribe and documented the Blessing Ceremony of Morgana. It was a copy, then. Every few centuries the scribes who worked in the archives copied the older scrolls before they could become tattered and illegible.
This was from before Morgana was crowned, and that was likely why it wasn’t in the royal archives—even though at the time, Morgana was still the daughter of the King.
Though, if Thana was right, they changed with each copy. Like the whisper game I loved to play as a child where the seven sisters and I would sit in a circle. I would whisper something to the sister next to me, and she would repeat it to the next and so on. By the time it reached the seventh, and they spoke it out loud, it would be something entirely different—and usually funny.
“It documents Morgana’s Blessing Ceremony,” I told Finn.
“That much I gathered. But it was this part here that caught my eye.” Finn came around the table and leaned in over my shoulder to point out a
section of text about halfway down the page.
I read it aloud, translating as I went, “The results of Morgana’s Ceremony were indeterminable.” I narrowed my eyes at the scroll, “But Morgana was Graced with fire, wasn’t she?” I asked Finn.
“Keep reading.”
“The ground shook not a moment after she drank of the Sidhe. She feinted and was carried from the Great Hall by His Royal Majesty, King Ricon II.” The Mad King.
I set the scroll back down on the table, “Do you think my Grace is fire then? Like hers?”
“That was not her only Grace,” a scribe who was putting tomes and scrolls back to their places on the many shelves said, turning to address us. “Your Majesty,” he said bowing. The male was thick around the middle, and old. It was strange to see someone who looked beyond the mortal age of thirty, with wrinkles and silver in their hair. Very rare, but it had been known to happen—where a Fae didn’t complete their transformation until later in life.
“There was a scroll once, many years ago that described Morgana on the front-lines of battle at Mount Noctis. The scribe detailed her charge into battle and wrote how he witnessed the queen-to-be use the Graces of air, strength, and earth as well as her documented Grace of fire.”
I had never heard that story before and was sure it was one Thana would have told me. She always told me tales of Morgana to soothe me to sleep. “And where is this scroll? In the royal archives?”
The old scribe huffed, “You won’t find it now, majesty. It was lost long ago.”
Well that’s helpful.
“Though,” he said, “I suspect you may find what you’re looking for in the royal chambers. It was Morgana who had those chambers built, surely there are answers to be found within.”
Finn and I shared a look. “What do you—” I started, but the scribe was gone. Vanished.
Finn shrugged his shoulders, “What do you suppose he meant?”
“I have no idea.”
After coming up empty handed, Finn escorted me back to my chambers. “There must be something,” he said, exasperated. “Perhaps, if you would give permission, I could look through the royal archives?”