Inimical

by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

  There’s some riddle to all this, but my pulse is pounding in my ears, blood slicking the entire side of my body. My vision’s going grey…

  Father turns on me, that Inimical rune burning up his cheek. “You’ll need a second in our duel.” He spits the words as he lunges in and grabs my arm. “An Aureate Queen to match your Adamant.”

  Even dizzy, I grasp his meaning. Syl. “No. I won’t let you!” I fight, but he drags me closer, off balance. More blood spatters the snow.

  I reel, dizzy, disoriented. I’ve got only seconds before I pass out. I open my mouth to sing, to lash him with lightning—

  A cold blade presses to my throat. “Now, now, Rouen, don’t spoil our surprise visit.”

  The air pressure changes, and the snow builds up, swirling into a scream. He’s manifesting the Gates of UnderHollow, bringing us back to the mortal realm. “Time to check in with your little Summer princess, Rouen.”

  He means to drag Syl into this. As my second in our duel to the death.

  And me? If I can stay conscious, it’ll be a miracle.

  11

  SYL

  After darkness comes the light

  - Glamma’s Grimm

  * * *

  It turns out, Miss Jardin is nowhere to be found. She’s just gone, poof, vanished. Lennon and I turn the school upside-down looking for her, but she’s a dimensional master of space and time. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.

  And it’s clear she doesn’t.

  Finally, I put Lennon on “Miss Jardin watch,” instructing her to text me the second she lays eyes on the wily pocket púca. She crosses her heart and hopes to die.

  Me? I hope no one has to die.

  Stop thinking like that, Syl, I chide myself. Roue’s alive.

  All morning, I’ve felt echoes of her. A twinge here, an ache there. It gives me a little ray of hope.

  But she never shows. And I can’t reach her through our soul-bond.

  What this means is, I spend day two of summer school freaking out quietly at my desk, sending and sending at Rouen, only to get nothing back.

  By the time lunch rolls around, I’m a bundle of freaking out.

  I can’t eat, so I sneak outside to the quad and sit on one of the peeling yellow picnic tables. The near-summer sun beats down, and the warmth feels good. I close my eyes, let it wash over my face.

  Warmth. The smell of Miss Jardin’s roses. A gust of wintry air.

  Wait. What?

  The pressure changes, and dark clouds blot out the sun. Another blast of cool wind hits me. Shivers spike my spine. Every nerve ending is suddenly tingling from the cold, and my instincts are screaming, It’s a trap!

  Only one thing sends my instincts into DEFCON 1—royal dark Fae magic—and it’s not Roue’s. I can tell that right away.

  Here comes King Reinghûl of the Winter Court.

  I stand up. I’m the Princess of Summer. I’m ready.

  The bright day turns grey, chill winds blowing clouds in fast as I can blink. The threat of snow hangs crisp in the air. Shadows fall across the quad, shrouding me and the picnic tables. Everything smells like snow and storm, but it’s rotten, decaying.

  I’d remember that smell anywhere. King Reinghûl’s magic.

  It’s tinged with ozone and burning asphalt.

  Prickles of fear rush across my skin. That’s Circuit Fae magic.

  It doesn’t matter. I’d face anything for Roue. I steel my resolve, limbering up my fingers in case I need to summon my white flame.

  The shadows warp and peel back, wisps solidifying into a seven figures in wintersteel and adamant platemail, swords and pikes and glaives glinting darkly.

  The Adamant Guard.

  But something’s wrong. First, not one of them wears their helm—not the smartest choice if you’re going into battle. Second, and way worse, crimson circuits burn like sickly veins beneath their skin, their eyes gone totally red and fiery.

  Moribund. But…this kind is different.

  I summon my Fae-sight, but all I see of their auras is blazing crimson. They have no personal feelings, thoughts, ideas. No autonomy. Chills grip me, and my heart goes out to them.

  Whatever this Moribund is, it’s controlling even their minds.

  And I have a very good idea who holds the master-key circuit.

  Crap. Looks like this’s going to turn into a fight after all.

  I throw up a don’t-see-this Glamoury—you’re welcome, King Jerkface—and drop into a battle stance, but the Adamant Guard only march into the quad, armor and spears pluming cold, and form an honor guard.

  The temperature drops even more, snow swirls in the air, and the cold bite of magic ripples across my skin again, this time more powerful. It’s all smoke and mirrors, though. None of this can hurt me here. All of this is just for show and threat.

  For a king, he sure is a drama queen.

  In a burst of snow and shadow, a powerfully built man steps into the quad, every inch of him dark and terrifying—raven-black hair, intense sapphire-blue eyes, a circlet of wintersteel around his brow. Frigid wisps plume off platemail carved from black ice.

  But that’s not what sends shivers of fear racing up my spine.

  It’s the crimson Moribund circuitry spliced into his skin, running in veins up his neck and ending in a red-hot runic spiral on his cheek.

  I’d know that power signature anywhere.

  A master-key circuit.

  He steps into the quad, surveying everything like he owns the place, his lips curled in disdain. The King of the dark Fae. Roue’s dad. His sneer widens, showing a glint of fangs. “Sleeper-princess.”

  What am I supposed to say to him? We’re way past can I date your daughter?

  “Hi.” Ugh. Really, Syl? Hi?

  More shadows peel back around him, and I see he’s holding someone in his arms. Wounded, bloody, unconscious.

  “Rouen!”

  Every instinct screams at me to keep my distance, but I rush toward her.

  “That’s close enough.” His voice is a deep, grating baritone, like a glacier shifting in winter. Ice against ice.

  I stop a few feet away. Roue’s so pale. Her bronze skin’s lost its glow, her leathers torn, bloody from a thousand cuts. My own body aches everywhere. Now I know why. It looks like she lost a fight with a wood chipper. “Roue!”

  My heart cracks, but she’s not in danger of dying. She’s okay, Syl. She’ll be okay. I can feel her healing powers slowly knitting away.

  Still…

  Fury as hot as the sun boils up inside me. “What did you do to her?” I take a step toward King Jerkwad, calling my Summer power to awaken. Fwoosh! The quad lights up as white flame wreathes my hands and burns off the shadows.

  Okay, most dark Fae, when they see me flame on, at least take a step back from all that purifying white fire.

  King Reinghûl’s not most dark Fae. He chucks darkly. “You want her?”

  “Always.” I raise my chin. I won’t be ashamed. Forget that.

  “Have her.” He opens his arms and drops her.

  “Rouen!”

  My heart breaking, I’m there in a flash of summer wind to catch her. “Oof!” We sprawl to the ground together, me cradling her close. “Roue? Rouen!” I touch her cheek, press my ear against her chest. She’s breathing. Her heartbeat is strong.

  I blow out a sigh of relief.

  “That was dirty.” My voice is an angry snarl as I glare at her father. If I had fangs, I’d be flashing them in a not-so-veiled threat.

  King Jerkface shrugs. “Dark Fae do not operate by the values of mortals.”

  “Or any values at all.” I carry Roue to the nearest picnic table and lay her down gently on the bench. Her hand slumps to the ground. She’s gripping something.

  A chess piece. The Adamant Queen.

  She’s told me about the dark Fae’s love of battle chess, a game similar to mortal chess but with a dark Fae twist.

  I run my fingers along the Queen. It�
��s still cold from the Winter Court.

  Roue still hasn’t moved a muscle.

  I whirl on her dad, all furious fire. “Look, pal, I don’t know what-all is going on” —I step back into a fighting stance—“but I’m going to kick your sorry butt.”

  He laughs, and snow swirls around him. “It is not yet time to duel, little sleeper-princess.”

  I face him, unafraid. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I won’t fall for your tricks!”

  “Syl…” Rouen’s voice is rough. She shifts on the bench.

  My Roue! I rush to her side and help her sit up. Just touching her, feeling her alive sends such relief rocketing through me, I almost faint. “Roue…thank goodness!”

  “Hi, princess.” She’s relieved, too, and beyond happy to see me, but her sapphire-blue eyes are sad. Her sending is filled with such regret, it’s almost too much for me to bear. “Syl, I challenged him. If I win, I’ll have to take the Throne. I’ll…”

  “Have to kill me.” I meet her gaze. “I know. My father wants me to kill you, too.”

  “Your…father?” Shock darkens her eyes.

  I can’t help it. I send everything that happened down the soul-bond. It only takes a few seconds—flashes of images, emotions, feelings, and memory—but already, I feel her gloomy-doominess setting in.

  I kiss her cheek. “It’s all right. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

  A glimmer of hope kindles within her, and I take heart from that.

  The king makes a disgusted noise. “If you’re through…”

  Okay, I shouldn’t poke the bear, but at this point, I can’t help it. I turn casually. “Are you still here?”

  Roue’s dad snarls, the burning red rune on his cheek swirling like living fire. “I look forward to eviscerating you slowly.”

  “Gotta catch me first.” I play with my white flame, letting it wreathe my fingers in silent threat. “Careful, though, it might be harder than you think.”

  His lip curls with scorn. “The duel will commence on Midsummer’s Day—a Battle of Wits and War, as the bain sidhe decrees.”

  Roue’s eyes are cold and bright as she bares her fangs. “Bring it on. Dad.” She spits the last word like venom. Names are important to Fae. They hate being called by anything mortal.

  My heart goes out to her.

  My dad might have abandoned me, but he never tried to kill me. All my snark vanishes. “What did you say to her?” I glare at him. This is his fault. Somehow, he tricked my girl into challenging him. “Did you threaten her?”

  He smiles, all cat that got the cream. “Not her.”

  “You dirty…” I clench my fists, wanting nothing more than to burn him to cinders where he stands. But, one, he’s Roue’s father, and two, there are rules to fighting a Fae king. “You’re not exactly Father of the Year, are you?”

  “And yours is?”

  Anger boils the Summer in my blood. Take it easy, Syl. He wants to bait you. I take a deep breath then exhale slowly.

  Nothing else has worked, so it’s logic time.

  “We shouldn’t be fighting. Fair Faerie and Dark Faerie are going to collide. If we work together, we can stop it, heal the hearthstones, heal you and the fair Fae king. Roue and I have a plan—”

  “Forget it.” The chill in Roue’s voice isn’t directed at me, though. “He wants me to kill you so he can rule as Overking.”

  “Wait, what?” I look at Roue as she sends me flashes of her father’s plan to use the Inimical to enslave everyone, to replace the hearthstone with the Moribund Heart.

  Whoa. Talk about a terrible idea.

  “The duel is set, sleeper-princess. You have only one choice.” The king steps toward me, hand outstretched. I expect a blow, a knife, a spear of shadow—anything. Dark Fae are tricksy. He opens his fingers. Another chess piece rests on his palm, golden and bright.

  The Aureate Queen.

  I’ve had enough of his games. I give him the stink-eye. “What kind of crazy dark Fae woojy-woo is this?”

  “This is the Aureate Queen. If you take it, you agree to be Rouen’s second in the duel.”

  “Her second?” I look at the carved piece—the golden queen in her sweeping gown. She even looks a little like me. Well, if I had the straight hair I’ve always wanted and was about four inches taller.

  She’s like the Galadriel-version of me.

  “Should Rouen fall, you will face me.” He says it with the confidence of a guy who holds all the cards, then dangles the chess piece in front of my face. “Unless you’d like her to pick someone else?”

  I eye the Aureate Queen. Glamma always said never to make a deal with a dark Fae, and right here’s a binding Contract. With the king of the dark Fae, no less.

  Once I accept the Queen, there’s no take-backsies.

  I’m already reaching out when Roue pulls my arm down.

  “Don’t do it, Syl.” All her fear and worry for me bleeds down our soul-bond.

  But all my love for her swells my heart up till it feels like it’ll burst from my chest. “You’re everything to me. I’d never let you face this alone.”

  I swipe the golden queen off his palm. “Bring it.”

  “Oh, I will.” The king turns his back like we’re not even a threat. Chill shadows gust up around him and the Adamant Guard as they prepare to snickle-step.

  “Yeah, well, you’ll regret it.” Okay, not my best comeback, but seriously? My girl’s in pain, wounded, about to collapse.

  It hasn’t exactly been a banner day.

  I clench the Aureate Queen so hard her crown digs into my palm.

  Once the king and Guard are gone, I turn to Roue. Lunch period is nearly over, the bell’s about to ring, but I only care about my girl.

  “Syl…” Her face crumples, and for a second, I think she’s going to cry, then she stiffens her expression, wipes at her eyes. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t be my second.”

  “Too late.” I hold up the Aureate Queen and clink it against her Adamant Queen. “We’re in it together.”

  12

  ROUEN

  Brave words from far away

  You can’t face me

  You can’t compete

  Blow away, take your brave words

  With you

  “So Brave,” Euphoria

  * * *

  At the risk of sounding like Syl… It’s barely after 1 p.m., and I’ve been threatened, beat up, stabbed by an ice spear, and blasted out a window. I’ve faced the bain sidhe and fought a fake duel. I’ve taxed my gramarye to the limits. Found out my father is not my father any longer, just a hollowed-out shell crammed full of Moribund circuits. I nearly died.

  I can get through my second day of summer school.

  Maybe. Probably.

  Even though my heart’s a ragged mess. Even though my body’s not much better off. Even though part of me wants to sink to my knees in the quad and scream and ugly-cry out all my rage and disappointment and pain.

  I won’t show weakness. I’ll tackle this day with all I’ve got.

  If nothing else, then just to spite my dark self.

  Already, I feel it stirring deep inside my mind, trying to drag me down into darkness and despair. It would be so easy to sink into it, to revel in the gloom and let hatred blossom in my heart, so easy to become a creature of vengeance.

  Yes. Do it. Let your hate give you strength.

  “Rouen?” Syl’s voice breaks my trance.

  I realize with a shock that my dark self was trying to tempt me. Again. Threads of panic stitch into my heart. I let her in, and now she’s a constant pressure in my head.

  I take a deep breath, shoring up my mental defenses, pushing her back down.

  The fear remains. I clench the Adamant Queen in my pocket. Am I’m falling to my dark self, just like my father?

  That’s how it happens, Dark-Rouen taunts me. You let your guard down for one second…

  My head throbs, and I press my hand to it, hoping to s
oothe the pain. Syl healed me with her white flame, but she can’t heal this.

  No one can.

  Syl steps in front of me, blocking my vision of the quad, the bright summer day, to meet my eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Mentally, I stomp on my dark self, crushing her back to where she belongs. “I’m just tired. That’s all.”

  “We’ve just gotta get through two more classes, then home.” Syl’s face creases in concern. “Unless you want to head home, and I’ll cover for you. I’m sure I could Glamoury your band teacher.”

  “Miss Maria? No.” I like Miss Maria. She’s cheerful and positive. Besides, Glamouring someone can alter their memories irrevocably. I don’t do it lightly. “I can get through two classes.”

  Tapping into all my reserves, I straighten up next to Syl as we head into the school. Yellow Hall is thronged, and we pick our way through the crowd back to the old Maura halls, where summer school classes take place.

  Even healed, though, I feel like ten miles of rough road. I’m in no mood for high-school nonsense.

  Still, nothing gets my sweet Summer girl down. She’s already tucked the Aureate Queen piece into her pocket, like accepting a duel from the King of Dark Faerie is no big deal.

  “It’s not until Midsummer, right?” She’s completely unflappable, linking her arm with mine as we walk. “We’ve got plenty of time to train. Fifty-one days, to be exact. But first, Library Studies for me.” She smiles up at me, her brightness lifting some of the darkness in my heart. “Band for you.”

  “Yeah…” After finding out the truth about my father and challenging him to a duel to the death, band class is the last thing on my mind.

  “It’ll do you good,” Syl insists in her nothing’s gonna get us down voice. “Take your mind off everything. I’ll even walk you there.”

  I sense her plot right away. Get me around friends. Music. My violin.

  Playing always centers me, helps me put things into perspective and vent my emotions. She’s not dismissing me. She just wants to help me get through the day.