by Lyra Evans
“Well, it may have been difficult to get people to agree in the past, but Phoebe’s clearly found a way to do it now,” Preston said. “And for those that won’t agree, they don’t get to be there for the vote.”
Niko frowned at his flippant assessment. Murdering other Courtiers would certainly have solved the issue for members in the past too. For whatever reason, though, those in the past did not resort to that. Either for moral and ethical reasons, or for practical ones. That Phoebe was past that was unsettling.
“Even if you can get everyone to agree, only certain people are capable of triggering the rite,” Niko said. “You have to be able to trace your bloodlines on both parents’ sides back four generations. Both sides have to be what the upper classes like to call the ‘Old Trees.’ It’s a bullshit club of the original families who made up the original Seelie and Unseelie Courts.” He shook his head. “Thanks to the blending of the Courts and the relaxation of cultural norms, the vast majority of Courtiers are of blood too mixed to accomplish that. A spare few families have bothered claiming pure bloodlines, and even there there’s likely more mixing than they would want you to believe.”
Cobalt leaned back in his chair. “I take it Phoebe Linden is from one of those few families,” he said. “If her brother is Ambert Redwood, then Redwood serves as one line. What is the other?”
Preston sighed. “Yew,” he said. “Her mother’s name was Greta Yew.”
Niko crossed his arms over his chest, flinching a fraction as he pressed unconsciously against his tender nipples. “The Yews have been around forever. They’ve been in the ‘Old Trees’ club for centuries.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine Phoebe wouldn’t already be certain of her bloodlines before openly proclaiming her plan to the world.”
Cobalt nodded in agreement, but Preston said nothing. Niko studied his face, and the Werewolf’s eyes travelled a far-off line to the other side of the cabin. Before Niko could ask about it, he turned his attention back to Niko and Cobalt.
“So now you know what’s going on, you don’t need me anymore,” he said, but Niko and Cobalt both fixed him with an arrowhead stare.
“We do not know everything,” Cobalt said. “From what Niko has described, the rite of Astral Roots would yield the Crown’s power to Phoebe pending a trial. Phoebe would then have no choice but to put Maeve on trial, no?”
“At which point Queen Maeve would, without a doubt, defend her choices and prove herself worthy of the Crown,” Niko went on. “She’s one of the most beloved monarchs in our history. That people aren’t rioting in the streets at Phoebe’s declaration is already surprising.”
Preston’s lip curled over his canines. “You still haven’t caught on,” he said. “The minds of the people have been poisoned for months. Articles, carefully placed with a calculated tone, have been circulating in the news for a long while. At first they were letters to the editor. Then they were pieces critiquing the Crown’s handling of smaller cases, of negotiations with the other Courts. Then critiques of the maintenance of infrastructure in the Court alongside puff pieces about the summer décor of the Queen’s palace. People still love Maeve, perhaps, but it has become significantly less difficult to think of her as disconnected from them. And with the growing sense that Selkies are a threat to the security of Maeve’s Court, her refusal to close borders makes more people start to question whether she actually cares about their safety.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Niko said. “Obviously she—”
“But none of that even matters,” Preston said. “It doesn’t matter if Maeve has valid and reasonable explanations of everything she’s done. It doesn’t matter if she can jump through every hoop and meet every challenge to prove herself the best leader in all of the Court’s history.” He stopped there, staring pointedly at Niko.
“Why would it not matter?” Cobalt asked, frowning. He wanted Preston to answer him directly, but Niko already knew that was impossible. Niko met Preston’s stare, letting it cut through him. And then he figured it out.
“Because proving herself means making it to trial,” Niko said, his insides strangely hollow. “Phoebe would know Maeve can easily prove her worth at trial, so she can’t allow the Queen to make it to trial.” He spoke the next words without feeling it, as though someone beyond him was saying them instead. “She plans to assassinate the Queen.”
Again, no one spoke for a long moment. Niko couldn’t quite make all the puzzle pieces fit together inside of his head. He could only see one portion of the whole tangled mess that was this case. If ‘case’ even encapsulated the magnitude of what was happening anymore. Eventually, Preston began to speak.
“There might be, hypothetically, a caveat to the rite of Astral Roots,” he said, fighting for every word spoken, as though dancing a complicated pattern with the contract that bound him to secrecy. Every revelation was couched in some kind of conjecture. “In a possible situation where the monarch, for reasons beyond anyone’s control, does not make it to trial, the Court would be left without a leader. Should this happen, it is possible the law indicates that the person responsible for triggering the rite should take permanent control of the Court. Given that triggering the rite is an action of deep and determinate love for the well-being of the Court, the law might assume said person would be the best replacement.”
Cobalt’s brow furrowed at this, his expression somewhere between confusion and horror. “She intends to have the Queen assassinated in order to install herself as monarch. And for whatever reason, all the other Courtiers she has not threatened are happily on board with this plan?”
Preston considered, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t recall anyone saying these other Courtiers were not threatened,” he said thoughtfully.
Niko got to his feet, tossing the sheets he wore aside and searching for his clothes. He immediately felt two sets of eyes on him as he moved about naked, but his mind was focused on other things. There was too much going on, too much at stake to waste any more time.
“We aren’t going to let her get that far,” Niko said, finding a pair of boxer-briefs and pulling them on. “Phoebe isn’t going to have a chance to even invoke the rite of Astral Roots. This whole thing is built on a set of lies, and we’re going to set the record straight.”
Preston watched him with a kind of longing. “And how do you propose to do that? You know Noor is responsible for Hemlock’s murder and framing you, but there is not a chance in all the worlds you’ll convince her to turn on Phoebe. And until you can prove you aren’t a killer, you can’t prove any of what Phoebe’s done or planning to do.”
Niko tugged a shirt over his head. “We’ll catch Noor as she tries to attack the Birches,” he said. “Then we’ll get her to—”
“She’ll never do it,” Preston interrupted. “She won’t turn on Phoebe for any reason. Not to save her own skin, not to prove you wrong, not for any reason. Even if you think you can trick her into giving Phoebe up, you can’t. The moment she realizes she’s caught, that someone is onto her, she’ll shut down.” Niko felt the muscles in his shoulders and neck tighten into coils at every one of Preston’s rebuttals. “And you don’t have the time necessary to break her psychologically. By that point, Keilani Palm will be dead and Phoebe will be invoking the rite.”
Pulling on his jeans, Niko gritted his teeth. “Then we’ll go to Palm and convince her—”
“How? Of what?” Preston interrupted again. “Palm responds only to evidence. You have no evidence Phoebe has done anything illegal. You don’t even have actual evidence you aren’t Hemlock’s murderer. Palm won’t believe a word you say unless you can prove it.”
Frustrated, Niko growled out a desperate sound. Tension filled him, drowning him in the sense he was helpless again. But he refused to believe Phoebe Linden was that good. He refused to accept she had planned for every eventuality. There would have to be a way. He had to prove she was the mastermind behind all of this. But as he gnashed his teeth, searching for an avenue he hadn’t
yet walked, he found there were few options. She’d spent time and energy and money setting everything into motion. From the slow and measured assault on Maeve’s reputation in the public’s view, to gathering information from Sade and getting him released, to collecting relevant dirt on every one of her opponents and allies alike, Phoebe was well prepared. She might have even suspected Preston’s betrayal, setting him up as a patsy in the event Niko could prove he wasn’t Sade’s killer.
But why she thought Niko could prove that was a mystery to him. What had she left undone, what mistake had she made he could exploit in order to reveal the lie? She’d given Noor every detail of Niko’s history with Sade, setting her best and closest ally the task of taking care of Niko. All because Niko had already exposed a tiny fragment of her network of crime in the auction case.
Niko stilled, his mind clearing. That wasn’t it, though. Noor had said Niko was a threat. A real one. That he must have had something on Phoebe. That there was no question about it. Phoebe wouldn’t have wasted her time or resources on Niko if it wasn’t imperative. Framing a cop as dirty, in itself, didn’t necessarily help her fear-mongering. Sure, Niko was connected to Cobalt, but Cobalt had disappeared. When she set this all in motion, he was still gone, to her knowledge. And Niko’s case with Sade was too divisive. Sade was a rapist and sex trafficker and murderer. He was a monster by anyone’s definition. On its own, a cop going rogue to kill his abuser wasn’t something that should have gotten the average Fae up in arms. Going after him, and urging the police to shoot him on sight, was a risk.
Unless Niko had something big enough to destroy all of Phoebe’s plans. In which case, it was necessary.
“You have to tell me,” Niko said suddenly to Preston. “You have to tell me what I have.” Preston looked at him, confused. Cobalt seemed not to follow his line of thinking either, which was unusual. Normally the Selkie caught on quickly. “Juniper said I have something on Phoebe. The only thing I’ve got is what you gave me on the Woods.” He rushed to the duffel where he kept the few files he’d taken with him on the run. “The drunk driving case with Chief Banyan’s son. The domestic dispute in Shady Cove. The missing woman in the financial district. The art theft. All these cases you had me dig up,” Niko went on, splaying out the folders before Preston on the table. “You set me on the track. You must know how they’re all connected. Tell me what I have on her.”
Preston’s eyes were wide, his expression hesitant. Niko felt his heart beating in his neck. He searched Preston’s face, trying to urge an answer out of him. But the Werewolf shook his head.
“I told you what connects them,” he said. “They’re all cases involving the Woods.”
Niko nearly slapped Preston. “But what actually happened for each of these? What happened to the painting? Was the domestic dispute really a fight? What did the police miss?”
Niko was in Preston’s face, nearly tugging on the neck of his shirt now. But Preston shook his head. “I don’t know!” he admitted. “I don’t know what each of these cases actually means. All I know is they were each covered up in some way. Documents destroyed, reports buried, evidence gone missing—something for every case, but I can’t tell you what it is. I figured out the Banyan case because I was involved. I wasn’t involved in the others; that’s why I sent them to you to resolve. You’re the detective.”
Collapsing into the chair, Niko let his forehead drop to the table. The thunk echoed in the small cabin. He had spent months looking these cases over, trying to decipher some clue everyone else had missed, to connect things that didn’t want to be connected. Now he had two days to find an answer he couldn’t find in three months.
“We’re fucked,” Niko said, about ready to give up. He’d never given up on a case before, but he was tired. And more than that, he wasn’t sure there was anything left to salvage. The justice system he believed in was violently corrupt. The Court system was too. No one in Maeve’s Court believed him, anyway. The few people who did were either just as unreliable as he was, or else would sacrifice their careers and lives if they spoke up. Maybe Phoebe had already won, really.
A hand pressed gently to his neck, smoothing into his hair. Niko lifted his head slightly, just enough to see Cobalt standing next to him. Before he could register anything else, Cobalt’s fingers curled into Niko’s hair, gripping a fistful, and yanked him painfully to his feet. He inhaled sharply, and a hand came round, slapping him across the face. The stinging seared through him, setting his body alight, and he found himself thrown back into the wall. The air forced from his lungs, Niko gasped as Cobalt pinned him in place with one hand over Niko’s neck.
Crystal eyes burned with an angry fire, and the Selkie frowned deeply at him. “Get your shit together,” he snapped at Niko, his tone hard as diamond and cold as steel. It was the tone of pure dominance that made Niko weak in the knees and hot all over. “You have everything you need to solve this. You will solve this. We will do it together. But what you will not do is give up and wallow, or you are no pet of mine.”
The instruction burned into Niko; he could almost hear his soul sizzling with it. It hurt, it flayed him, but it also set his jaw. He shoved Cobalt’s hand away, standing straighter. With a shallow nod, he found his footing again.
“Well, that was heart-warming,” Preston said, eyeing them awkwardly. “So what do you plan to do?”
Cobalt didn’t stop staring at Niko. “We will regroup. We need access to every resource we have, so we will return to Coral and Starla. And Detective Fern. Five minds focused on the problem should improve our chances.” He pulled the cellphone Starla had given him out of his pocket and pressed the button to turn it on. “We make contact now, to check in. Then we will make our way back through the jungle-forest to meet them somewhere safe.”
Niko said nothing, watching as Cobalt swiped the screen of the phone and tapped the number for Starla. His stomach churned, his heart and chest tight.
“We shouldn’t involve them,” Niko said, unwilling to put them more at risk than he already had. The escalation in the case made it all the more apparent that Phoebe was willing to do anything to succeed. Niko couldn’t endanger Starla and Uri that way. Not even Coral, who had had no choice about being there in the first place.
“They are involved,” Cobalt said. “No matter your intentions. Starla? Yes. We’re all right,” Cobalt said, holding the phone away from his ear and tapping the speakerphone option. “Niko and Preston can hear you now.”
“P—Preston? Have you got him tied up?” she asked, hesitating on the name.
“Sadly not, love,” Preston drawled. “But there were a few glorious hours there…”
A long pause followed, where only ambient noise could be heard through the phone. “What the fuck have you guys been up to?” she asked, clearly lost. Then, before they could answer, she went on, “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got too much shit to go through. Did you catch Courtier Linden’s little press conference? She’s going to—”
“We know, Star. She’s going to invoke Astral Roots,” Niko said. “And Citali Cedar and her family are dead.”
“Not just that,” Starla said. “She’s released an audio—wait, let me see if—Cor, can you—Cor? Wait, what is—Oh fuck it, come on. Can you ho—just, Uri, can you? Take this.”
The three of them in the cabin shared glances, hearing the rustling and shuffling through the phone. A loud set of scratching sounds was followed by a huff of breath, and then Uri’s voice said, “Hello? Nik? You there?”
“Yeah, Uri, what the fuck’s going on?” Niko asked.
A heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Starla and Coral are—I don’t fucking know. I don’t get women,” he said, and Niko almost laughed, despite the situation. “But anyway, the point is Chief Banyan has released an audio recording of you,” he said. “Or, she says it’s of you.” Another heavy sigh. “It’s supposedly a phone call between you and Sincloud. You can’t hear Sincloud’s end, for some reason, but you can hear what you’re saying. It’s not
good, Nik.”
Niko’s teeth ground together. His hands were white, fingers balled tight. “What does it say?”
“It’s a confession. You apparently confessing to Sincloud that you killed Hemlock.” Silence on all ends, except for some distant voices. Niko thought he could make out Starla’s voice in the background. “I know it’s not you, Nik. It makes no sense. And Sincloud wasn’t even back when this call was supposed to be made, I think. But it doesn’t matter. It sounds like you.” He paused again, and as Niko’s heartbeat thumped against his sternum, he heard Starla pleading for something in the background. “The Council have given the Chief martial authority. She’s now able to use war-time techniques to interrogate anyone she wants, which means she can even have people killed to force someone to talk. She’s also promised full immunity to anyone willing to turn on you. Including Selkies. Any Selkie that comes forward with information about you is free to return to Azure’s Court with no penalties or prejudice.”
“Cor—please, this isn’t—but it’s all bu—what about—Cor,” Starla’s voice sounded clearer, the plaintiveness uncharacteristic. She sounded as though she was crying.
“Star? What’s—where did—what’s wrong?” Uri was asking.
“She’s gone,” Starla said, though Niko could barely hear. “Coral’s gone. She called the hotline.”
“Where did she go?” Cobalt asked. He was poised like a panther ready to strike. Niko stared into nothing.
“What hotline did she call?” Preston asked, his eyes wide.
“You’ve got to get out of there,” Uri was saying. Niko could barely hear him over the distant sound of helicopters. “They know where you are. They’re coming.”