by Kristie Cook
What the hell was a human doing at the Vault?
The other three were demons, the bright spot in this otherwise disturbing situation. I couldn’t wait to annihilate them all. And I did just that, the crowd growing louder with each one, cheering me on.
I’d grown used to killing. The Pits had done that to me. Each kill not only became easier but brought a sense of relief. The darkness in me, my beast, loved it. I gave her a little freedom as we fought, unleashing our worst on the enemies until we were the last ones standing and bodies littered the ground. It was kill or be killed here, and I gladly killed. I tried to assuage the guilt after each fight by reminding myself that if I didn’t do it—if I didn’t survive every turn in the Pits—they’d throw Brielle in next time.
Still, here she was.
As the last demon poofed into black smoke and disappeared, I pumped my fist in the air to celebrate another win, and the reaction was deafening. It only took a moment to realize their cheers weren’t for me. At least not because I had won yet.
I turned to find my twin with the human’s lifeless body at her feet, tears flowing down my sister’s face.
“I had to,” she cried. “I didn’t want to, but I had to.”
The norm held a spear in her hands, its tip made of iron and silver. Yes, Brielle had to. And I couldn’t be prouder.
But then realization hit me as the crowd’s cheers grew louder and more repetitive.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” they chanted.
Brie and I stared at each other, both of us shaking our heads.
“You will fight each other or both be killed,” the master’s voice boomed over the Pits.
“I will not!” I yelled. “We had a deal!”
The crowd booed and threw their trash at us.
“So be it,” the master said.
And the next thing I knew, the spear shoved through the front of my sister’s chest, spraying blood on my face before it continued its force into my own body. Iron and silver. It burned a hole in my heart and through my veins as we both went down as one, falling to the blood-stained dirt. My hand reached out for my sister as I watched the light leave her eyes and an emptiness like no other consumed me.
We departed this lifetime as we’d come into it—together.
I awoke with a scream in my throat.
“They’re not dreams or even premonitions,” I whispered in the darkness, my voice hoarse as though I had actually been screaming. “They’re memories.”
No, that didn’t make sense. If they were memories, Brie and I wouldn’t be alive. And if they were memories—why hadn’t I remembered them before now? That was some pretty traumatic shit. No, it had to have been just a dream. An ongoing, recurring nightmare, no more.
“Are you okay?” a voice asked from nearby. Not Maeve’s, though.
I could barely make out the face in the dark. “Ena? What are you doing in here?”
“You scream a lot. I know what it’s like.” She perched lightly on the edge of my bed. It was the first time she’d said anything so personal.
“The scars?” I dared to ask. She didn’t reply, but that was answer enough. “What happened?” She remained quiet. “Did your king do this to you? I mean, the Shadow king—Caellach?”
I didn’t expect her to answer, but maybe the darkness gave her courage. “The prince,” she whispered. “The Tormentor.”
“What a fucking asshole. I’m sorry he did that to you.”
“I … I don’t think he wanted to—” she began, and I cut her off.
“Don’t ever make excuses for a beast like that. He was awful to you. But you survived, Ena. You are strong. You’re free from him. Maybe someday you can be free from here,” I hinted.
That was the wrong thing to say. She bolted from the room, a wave of fear slamming through me.
I fell onto the pile of pillows, doubting I’d be able to fall back asleep after the vivid dream. I was tempted to find Maeve, but at some point I must have dozed off, because I found myself back in a room of stone walls. Not either of the cells, but bigger with two tables in the center, my sister and I laying on each one.
Tendrils of dark power entered the room, slithering over Brielle and me, followed by two shadowy figures whose energy was so black, I felt like I was drowning in the deepest of oceans. Even my beast inside cowered from them.
“I knew you couldn’t be killed so easily,” one of them rasped. The more powerful one. A dark tendril of his force licked along my cheek, making me gasp from the cold pain. “Yes, you are still alive, aren’t you, little shade? What do we do with you? Have you earned your release?”
Wait. What? He was going to free us?
“Please?” I whispered.
“No,” said the other.
“Quiet,” snapped the first as it drifted between our tables. The black fog swirled around it, flowing and parting, revealing glimpses of a male face and glowing gray eyes. “What would you do for freedom, little shade? Anything?”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked weakly. Had I really died? I thought I had, in the Pits with that spear. So had my twin. I looked over at her, blinking away tears. Was she still alive, too?
“I want you to be mine,” the dark form replied.
“Father,” the other said, the tone one of warning.
“Or any of my princes. We need you for our kingdom.”
So trade one prison for another. A jailor I knew for one I didn’t? One this dark?
“I just want to go home,” I murmured.
“I could make that happen. You can go home for now, but I will come calling when it’s time.”
I shook my head. That was not a deal I’d make.
The form grew and loomed over Brielle’s body. “For your sister’s freedom?”
“Please,” I begged, unable to move, to stop him.
A black finger trailed over her throat. “For her life?”
“No!” I meant to say don’t, but fear strangled me, consumed me.
“No?” The shadow seemed to find joy in this refusal. No, not in my refusal, I realized, but in the agony my sister was apparently experiencing as her body jolted and writhed on the table.
“Stop!” I tried to shout, but I still lacked any energy, any force. “Yes, okay, yes. For my sister’s life. For her freedom, too.”
“Father,” the other said again, more sharply this time. He was still ignored.
“We will make this deal,” the father said.
“Both of us get to go home?” I asked.
“For now. But when I call for you, you cannot refuse, or you both die. For good this time. Do we have a deal?”
I watched my sister’s trembling body. “Yes. We have a deal.”
Chapter 11
We have a deal.
We have a deal.
The words echoed in my mind throughout the next morning, drowning out anything Maeve prattled on about. I’d needed the distraction and had joined her for breakfast, much to her delight. But not even she could distract me from the vivid visions.
Were those really memories? I was beginning to think they were as they grew more solid in my mind, along with others from our time at the Vault. I didn’t know why they’d only now surfaced. Since they had, though, it’d sure be nice to remember the full story. Like, how did we end up in the supernatural prison in the first place? Why? Did I really fight to the death in some kind of arena? Did I really kill all those beings? I mean, it kind of sounded like something I would do, especially to protect my sister. Not that she couldn’t protect herself—she just wouldn’t. Or, at least, she’d take so long analyzing the situation to identify the best solution that she’d be killed in the meantime. Especially in the Pits, where there was no other solution and no mercy. It was either kill or be killed, full stop. Shit. The fact that I could recall that only confirmed that this had all truly happened.
Perhaps it should have been more disturbing, the things I had done there. But I knew that kind of darkness lived inside me, so it
wasn’t all that surprising. I was more concerned about the suppression of the memories and how they were flooding back. Why now? How could I not remember being imprisoned and all those kills before?
And what was most disturbing to me of all—who the fuck did I make a deal with?
I also couldn’t remember what came after. We must have been freed, as promised. But when? The visions made it seem like we’d been in the Vault for months, perhaps years, but surely that topic of conversation would have come up at some point in our lives. Had our parents wiped our memories and kept it from us all this time? Why? And when had all of this happened anyway? Brielle and I were older, at least mid-teens, but we’d both still had copper-colored hair in the visions.
“Oh my angels,” I gasped out loud.
“What?” Maeve asked. She’d been rambling on about something but stopped and looked at me as though seeing me for the first time that morning. “Oh, love, you look awful. You know what you need? You need to get out of this castle.”
I momentarily forgot my epiphany. She was letting me go?
“Fresh air should do you well,” she continued. “Why don’t we take a walk in the gardens?”
Oh. Well, it was better than another day in my room or that dreadful parlor.
After we finished eating, we bundled up in thick, fur-lined cloaks with deep hoods that felt as old world as everything else about Winter Court. I’d wondered more than once if all of Faery was like this or if Winter Court had its own flair for the old-fashioned.
We left the main part of the palace through the massive arched front door that led out to a spacious courtyard. Planter boxes lined the inside of the high walls surrounding the fortress, where trees, bushes, and flowers I’d never seen before grew. Green needles and leaves, red berries that might have been holly or something native only to Faery, and blue flowers contrasted against the white of the snow and ice coating everything. My generation—those who came after the war—hadn’t known white snow until we were older. For years after the war, snow fell in a variety of colors, more evidence of nature tainted by the black magic. I was a little surprised the snow here in Faery was so white. Kind of plain, yet still breathtakingly gorgeous.
“It’s so much prettier in the sun,” Maeve complained when I commented on the beauty. We followed a path to the side lawns, the opposite direction from the chasm and the door Dorian had used when he brought me here. “This darkness hovering over us makes it look so … dirty. But when the sun shines on the snow, each tiny crystal sparkles in blues and pinks and all colors of the rainbow. I can’t wait for you to see it. It’s a spectacular sight and just one reason I love it here so much.”
She went on about other aspects she loved about her home as we meandered around the grounds, but I tuned her out again, my mind drifting back to the dream. No, the memory. Then I remembered what I’d realized earlier.
“Maeve, do you know how to reach my brother?” I blurted.
“Dorian?” she asked, bewildered, and I realized I’d interrupted her ramblings.
“I’m sorry,” I quickly apologized, suppressing an urge to snap at her. I was trying my best not to let her on about my off mood this morning, but I was failing. “It’s just, something urgent has occurred to me, and I desperately need to talk to him.”
“Is this why you were avoiding me?”
“I wasn’t avoiding you. Not you, specifically. I—”
She held her hand up. “No need to explain. I might be able to get a message to him. What does he need to know?”
Shit. I wasn’t about to discuss this with her. Even though we’d become friends, she was still, for all intents and purposes, my jailor. Different prison and circumstances, but another warden nonetheless. I couldn’t let myself forget that again.
“Please, Maeve,” I said as sweetly as I could manage. “We fought right before he left me here, and if your brother returns and decides to kill me after all, I’d hate for that to be my last words with Dorian. It’s very important I talk to him personally.”
She studied me with that piercing silvery blue gaze of hers for a long moment, one slanted brow arched, then rolled her eyes. “I am familiar enough with your brother to know that you have absolutely no relationship with him. And I know you now, too. You have talked about your parents and your sister, but never Dorian. I’m quite certain you could not care less if you’d hurt your brother’s feelings.” I opened my mouth to argue, but she hurried on. “But I will see what I can do.”
“I do appreciate it. And I promise it’s not about him getting me out of here.”
She laughed. “I’m not worried about that. There’s a reason you’re here, Elliana. And if anybody has a tight brotherly bond, it’s Fintan and Dorian.”
“Really?” I asked with sincere surprise. I knew so little about my brother, which would be extremely sad if he weren’t the leader of our enemy with a soul as black as ink. I was better off not knowing. I supposed it made sense that the leader of the Daemoni would be allies with the king of the dark fae. I just hadn’t considered Dorian being tight knit with anyone. A slight pang of betrayal touched my heart. Not betrayal of me, but of our parents.
“I do have an idea, though, to keep you safe,” Maeve said, stopping our stroll to turn toward me. She took my hands in hers. “It might seem a little … outlandish, I admit.” She hesitated, her eyes averting, almost shyly. Though there’d never been anything shy about Princess Maeve in the time I’d known her. When her gaze came back to lock with mine, she lifted a hand to my face, skimming the backs of her fingers along my jawline. “You’re different, Elliana. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. Things I think only—” She paused, seeming as though she was gathering courage for her next words. “—things only true mates feel. Fated mates.”
My breath caught in my throat, and I somehow managed to keep it there before it burst out in a gasp, or worse, a laugh. I blew it out slowly as I tried to decide the best way to respond.
“You cannot tell me you don’t feel it, too,” she said, her slanted brows coming together for a moment before they eased as her face relaxed. “You probably just don’t know the feeling. Did you even know fae have fated mates?”
I shook my head, still too shocked to form words. I knew about shifters, and I knew my parents’ souls were created for each other by the angels. I hadn’t heard that the fae experienced such a phenomenon.
She smiled, her eyes filling with joy as she explained with a dreamlike quality to her voice. “It’s a connection deeper than any other, one that cannot be broken even by death. In fact, when one half goes, the other follows shortly after because it just cannot fathom continuing on.”
That sounded awful! Who would want that?
“It’s the feeling that the two of you can conquer the world because together you are stronger than anything you could ever face. It’s love and passion and a deeply ingrained knowledge that there is absolutely nobody else out there who could make you feel the way you do with your fated mate. You’re simply meant to be together and denying the fact only brings pain and agony to the point you both could die, not from a broken heart but from a broken soul.”
Again, ew. “And you feel that way about me?”
She squeezed my hands. “The closest I have ever felt. We’d have to bond to know for sure, which is why you might not feel it yet. Especially since you’re only part fae. But I do believe it, Elliana. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before, and if it is true, Fintan could never kill you. By faerie law, he would have to protect you as one of his own, as well as your family. We could find your parents. You and your sister would be safe from all those who want to kill you both.” She paused, then added almost as an afterthought, “Also, he could not force me to be with Cymbel if I’m meant to be with you.”
Ah. That was the full truth. This made more sense—that she’d found a solution to benefit us both—than actual, real-deal fated mates did. I just couldn’t imagine any god or fate or whatever torturing another creatur
e by forcing them to be with me. Nobody deserved that fate.
Maeve shook my arms. “Look. Fintan is on his way home. I received a message this morning. If we ignore what we have together, if we do not do this before his return, your future is in his hands. If he still believes a power such as yours should not exist at all, he will find a way to kill you, as well as your sister. Or, he could come to his senses and see that an alliance with your people could benefit us all—and he’d take you as his wife. From what I understand, I do not believe you would enjoy that much. Especially when you and I can have all of that and so much more.”
Unable to think as she pierced me with those strange eyes, I slid my hands from hers and turned away, staring at an ice sculpture in the corner of the garden without actually seeing it. Was the answer to all of our troubles really that simple? If the Seelie fae held my parents against their will, wouldn’t the Unseelie king be willing to rescue them if we had an alliance? From what I had managed to learn, the Seelie and Unseelie courts were constantly looking for reasons to go to war with each other. Living such long lives made boredom come easily, and war gave the fae something exciting to do and to talk about for a while. And Brielle and I would be so much safer if we were protected by the Earth’s Angels, the Amadis, and the Unseelie fae.
On the other hand, Maeve said Fintan and Dorian were close. Did that mean the Unseelie were already aligned with the Daemoni? If so, what would happen if the Unseelie then aligned with us? War? Or could an alliance between the Amadis and Daemoni ever be possible?
Ugh! I was too much like Maeve—not enough interest in the politics to know what was best. And Brielle and I had been removed from it all while in the shiny world, so even she wouldn’t know the best solution with her gift. We didn’t have enough of the facts. If only I could speak to Mom and Dad and know what they would want me to do. But I was on my own. My decision could prevent another all-out war—or it could start one.