by K. J. Sutton
I heard Naevys before I saw her.
Her voice bounced harshly off the earthen walls of the corridor. The words were still too far away to understand, but she sounded… enraged. In all the hours I’d spent with Collith’s mother, never once had she raised her voice or revealed any hint of anger. Truly alarmed now, I paused long enough to gather my dress, and then I broke into a run. Lyari’s feet pounded behind me, her breathing faint and light, as if she ran in heavy armor every day. The shouting got louder and the passageway brighter. Within a minute, two flames appeared at the other end, the torches that burned on either side of the door to Naevys’s room.
That door opened just as we arrived, and Wistari—the dark-skinned faerie I’d met the first time Collith brought me down here—slipped through. He raised his head and spotted us. Normally he greeted Naevys’s visitors with a pleasant smile and an optimistic remark. Tonight, however, the set to his mouth was grim and his eyes were dark.
“Is she asleep?” I asked. The sounds from behind the door had gone silent.
Wistari shook his head. I noticed, not for the first time, how the hair at his temples was slightly gray. It always made me wonder if the fae’s appearance reflected how old they felt, rather than the specific number of years they’d spent on this earth. “We sedated her,” he said gravely. “It was for her own safety.”
While he was speaking, a second faerie stepped into the tunnel. She was a female I’d seen before, but our only interactions were nods and bows. Her black hair was styled into a pixie cut and she wore bright, red lipstick. She returned to her post across from Wistari. I glanced from her to the door, feeling thorns of apprehension sprout from my heart. “May I go in?” I asked, as though I was a child. I wanted to kick myself as soon as the question came out.
“You are the queen, Your Majesty. You may do whatever you like,” Wistari told me, accompanying his words with a fleeting smile to soften them. I gave him a wavering smile back, keeping my own just as brief, and walked past. I paused inches away from the door, tracing those blue flowers with my eyes. I’d hoped doing this would block out the voice in my head. The one whispering, over and over, You don’t belong here. You have no right to offer comfort when you’re the one who took her son.
The whisper only got louder. Grimacing, I pushed the door open and eased through. It shut with the scraping sound all doors at the Unseelie Court made—none of them had doorjambs. When I turned and saw Naevys, the voice inside me fell abruptly silent.
Her head was tipped forward, her eyes closed in a drug-hazed slumber. I crossed the room, hating how loud my footsteps sounded in the stillness. When I was close enough, I noted the gray cast to her skin, and my stomach tightened. Half of her face was covered by a curtain of hair, and I reached for it, thinking to tuck the strands behind her ear.
Naevys’s head snapped up and her eyes latched onto mine.
“All those centuries,” she spat as I reared back. “All those opportunities to evolve and improve yourself. And what did you do with them? Nothing. Your corruption is a disease. I won’t let you spread it to our son. I won’t.”
Her body jerked, as if she were trying to lunge at me. But she had been part of the earth for too long—she was part of it now. All she managed to do was yank her hand forward, like the movement of a broken wing. The action caused a layer of skin to tear off her bones. She released a sound that was between a bellow and a shriek, and her efforts became more frenzied. That hand kept flapping uselessly.
“Naevys, don’t,” I managed, numb with horror.
Suddenly the faerie went rigid.
I looked up at her with wide eyes, hardly daring to hope that the Guardians’ sedative was still working its way through her. I didn’t release the breath in my lungs, as if even the sound of my soft exhale would revive her. Naevys stared at something behind me. The muscles in her face were slack. I followed her gaze, but the room was empty. Nothing moved except the torches, and the shadows they sent dancing across the dirt.
A thin whisper floated to my ears. “She still has good inside her. Remind her of that.”
I whirled back around, but Naevys’s expression hadn’t changed. It seemed impossible that she’d spoken, and suddenly I was questioning my own sanity. “Naevys? Do you know who I am?” I asked cautiously, stepping closer. “Are you talking about Gwyn?”
The moment I said the huntress’s name, Naevys pierced the air with a long scream, and I clapped my hands over my ears. There was something more sharp about this one, more afraid. I’d never touched her—I shouldn’t have even been able to sense it—but Naevys was part of the Unseelie Court. Because of our bond, I could taste her fear on the air and in my mouth.
There was nothing I wanted to savor about this faerie’s terror. Images started coming at me, and within seconds, I put it together—she was reliving the moment Laurie’s spell claimed her.
The memory was like quicksand. I sank into it, and struggling only made it stronger. Colors brightened, surroundings solidified, until I was in the memory alongside her. I could still hear Naevys screaming, but it was muffled, like she was on the other side of a wall.
Her death began with a single, delicate root. It stuck out from the dirt, no larger than a slender rope. One of the Guardians sidestepped it. As Collith’s mother walked past, it reached out and touched her shoulder, like the barest brush of someone’s fingertips. She noticed, of course, but dismissed it in her haste—she was late for a luncheon in Paris. Naevys had been meeting with Lady Mirthal for months, planting seeds with every conversation, in an effort to turn the tides against Sylvyre.
Then another root grew from the passageway wall, this one thicker, more insistent. It wrapped around Naevys’s ankle with a grip that made her gasp. All thoughts of her luncheon vanished. She stopped and looked down, frowning, but the spell gave her no time to panic or pull free—more roots shot out, this time with enough force to make part of the tunnel crumble. Naevys started screaming. Her Guardians had already leapt forward, and their swords flashed as they hacked at the roots. But there were too many of them, pouring from the ground with the inevitability of an ocean wave. The tangle, which was so thick and swarming that all the Guardians could see of Naevys was her head, slowly pulled her into the wall. She felt some of the vines burrowing inside her, then through her.
The last thing she saw was Sylvyre, standing in front of her, looking as satisfied as a well-fed cat.
Naevys would never know if he was planning to speak, to provide an explanation for this betrayal, because she passed out from pain and terror.
The memory went dark, too, and I saw my chance. Clumsy with desperation, I tore myself out of Naevys’s mind and threw up a barrier between us. She didn’t fight me. Back in reality, my head already throbbing, I turned in time to see Wistari, the black-haired female, Lyari, and Úna spill into the room, weapons drawn and teeth bared. When there was no enemy to fight, they all looked to me for an explanation. I was frozen, my thoughts slow and dull as a result of what I’d just seen.
“She needs Collith,” I said, more to myself than them. Too late, I comprehended that I’d spoken out loud. But the words were in the open now, and I felt the Guardians watching me. I heard the whispers of their thoughts. If the king isn’t dead, what’s stopping him from visiting his mother?
They didn’t trust me. I could see it in their eyes. Strangely enough, the realization hurt.
Naevys was stirring again—my attention snapped back to her, and she started muttering in Enochian. Her brows were furrowed, as though she were deep in thought. Or another memory.
I want to go home. The thought came out of nowhere, but it struck me as only a truth could. Suddenly I longed to leave this sad room, see the warm glow of windows through the trees, step into a warmth that smelled like evergreen and coffee. And maybe a little like wolf, too.
Standing there, I thought of reasons why I should give in to the impulse. I was already sleep-deprived from staying up with the fox. I needed to get out of this dress. Emma might w
orry. The smart thing to do was return home and go to bed.
But there was a bitter, undeniable truth that kept me from turning away.
Naevys was dying.
My mind flashed back to my own mother, lying slumped in that hallway. Her last moments had been made of pain and fear. There was no way of knowing if Naevys would fade tonight, but no one should die alone, especially not a person as good as her. And the one who should’ve been here was far away, because I’d sent him to Hell and he hadn’t come back the same. In a way, her son was still dead.
The chair—the origin of which was still a mystery—was still there. I looked down at it for a moment, already wincing at the thought of sleeping on those hard armrests. I raised my gaze and looked at Lyari, whose resigned expression probably matched mine.
“Will you bring me some reading materials? Preferably something about the Wild Hunt? Oh, and a change of clothes?” I added, hoping none of my weariness slipped into my voice. The faerie bowed and retreated. While everyone left the room, I dropped into the chair and heaved a silent sigh.
It was going to be a long night.
Hours passed in the dark. I waited until Naevys succumbed to sleep, but it had become clear I wasn’t going to get any of my own. Not in a chair, at least. Once Naevys’s eyelids stopped fluttering and she’d gone completely still, her breathing faint and steady, I got to my feet and tiptoed to the door.
Úna was the only Guardian in the passageway when I emerged. Unease crept through me, but I kept it from my face. “Where’s Lyari?” I asked briskly, pretending to look for her so I could avoid eye contact.
“Her shift ended three hours ago.”
I stared at Úna, who stared back with heat in her eyes. Lyari wouldn’t leave without ensuring there was someone to walk me home. Fuck. I swallowed the curse and prayed I was wrong. But when I turned, walking away without another word, Úna’s boots crunched over the dirt. She was following me.
Mentally, I rehearsed what I would say if she tried to make a romantic declaration. Úna didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d take it well, so none of the usual excuses felt right. We made our way upward, and minutes ticked by. Úna didn’t utter a word. By the time we reached the tunnel that would take us to the door, I was half-convinced that I’d been worried for nothing
Then she grabbed my arm.
My training wasn’t fast enough for Úna’s passion. She hauled me against her, and I felt her palm cup my cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathed. “A goddess among mortals.”
Panic and training fought for control over my body. “Okay, Úna, I’m going to give you one—“
Her face descended toward mine. Realizing what she was doing, I jerked my head to the side and Úna’s lips smashed against my cheek instead. I felt something wet—her tongue, I thought with a rush of revulsion—just as I wrenched free. “Get away from me,” I spat, swiping roughly at her saliva.
A desperate sound burst from her, and once again, the faerie moved so quickly I had no chance to recoil. I screamed, struggling against her. Úna was stronger. She pushed me against the hard, unrelenting wall of the passageway. “No, stop!” I managed, twisting my head to the side. Where were the other Guardians?
She growled, clutching my wrists in one hand and gripping my face with the other. There was no confusion as to what her intent was—I could feel all her desire and cruelty in the way she smothered me with the entire length of her body. My struggles felt like nothing against her brute strength.
“But I love you. God, if only you knew how much I love you. Just let me.” With every word, her accent thickened. Her hold on my jaw was tight, too tight. I tried to say her name, tried to reason, but her mouth crushed mine so hard that I was only able to make a strangled sound that no one heard.
Then, I bit her.
I sank my teeth so hard into her flesh that I felt them grind together. Úna screamed and jerked back. She pressed her hand to her lower lip. Drops of blue blood were already staining her armor. For a second she just stared at her wet fingertips, and I stood there panting. Then her eyes narrowed and flicked back to my face. “You bitch.”
She hit me, a swift blow that sent me reeling. I cried out and slammed into the wall again. My vision went splotchy, back and forth from shades of light to dark. Stumbling, I swung blindly. I’d put more weight behind the throw than I’d thought, and my knuckles grazed Úna’s jaw just enough that she staggered to one side.
She laughed.
Before I could react she was on me, pinning me a second time. Now I dug my nails into her face, trying to shove it away. Úna let out a cry of her own. She grabbed my wrist and yanked. I gasped in pain, and suddenly I was back in those woods. Ian O’Connell was everywhere, his face, his scent.
No. This is not going to happen to me again.
With that single thought, my terror hardened into anger. My weapons were out of reach, so I raised my other hand and punched Úna in the throat. She stumbled back, choking, and I didn’t give her a chance to recover. As I came down on her like one of the furies from Mom’s stories, I didn’t use any power. I didn’t ruin her mind with her own fear.
I just kicked her fucking ass.
At some point during the beating, I started seeing the demon’s face where Úna’s should have been. With every punch, I was hitting that thing I’d met at the crossroads. With every kick, I was striking the monster that sent me to the brink of insanity. What I lacked in supernatural speed and strength, I made up for in ferocity. Úna never got the chance to retaliate or defend herself—I was a tempest, a god, a wound. Eventually the faerie fell and couldn’t get back up. I raised my leg, preparing to stomp on her, but something stopped me. A memory.
Choose mercy, Fortuna.
I put my foot back on solid ground and glared at Úna, as if it was her fault that I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. It was then I noticed her body was stretched across the passageway, blocking the way I needed to go. Gritting my teeth at the thought of touching her, I leaned down and grabbed Úna’s ankles. Damn, she’s heavy.
As I moved her, I talked.
“I read a journal recently. Found it on one of Collith’s shelves. In an entry toward the end, the owner wrote about his brother’s banishment. A faerie named Marlevaur—that’s a mouthful, huh? Well, the Tongue did a spell, and ol’ Marlevaur physically couldn’t enter the Unseelie Court anymore. Apparently being separated from other faeries for too long, or spending too much time near technology can affect your immortality. Marlevaur’s body started decaying. Teeth breaking, skin sagging, all of that perfect youth just… gone. He turned to drugs to ease the pain of being exiled. But they weren’t enough. Marlevaur was so desperate for power that he started killing other Fallenkind for their parts. If he had no use for something, he sold it at a black market. Eventually he became the first goblin. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
I lowered myself to one knee, and I waited until her gaze met mine. Both of her eyes were swelling shut. “You are henceforth banished, Úna of bloodline Daenan. You will live long enough to watch yourself devolve into a creature that won’t be accepted, no matter where you go. Then, you’ll die. If I ever see you again, I won’t choose mercy. Understand?”
She nodded. It was slight, barely more than a twitch of her chin, but I saw it. That was good enough for me.
For once, I was entirely alone as I returned to the surface. As I walked, I pulled my phone out of the bodice. The bright glow of the screen seemed out of place in the medieval-looking passageway. I allowed the camera to see my face, and then the apps appeared. Now I just needed a signal.
Stars greeted me at the end of the tunnel. Still holding my phone, I emerged into the open, and I was surprised to see it was still nighttime. I sent Nuvian a text, informing him of Úna’s banishment—he’d see it the next time he went to the surface. By then, Úna would be long gone. Hopefully the Tongue wouldn’t need her physically present for the spell. I probably should’ve done some research on that beforehand.
<
br /> Speaking of Nuvian, where the hell was he? Or the other Guardians?
If there were any of them in the woods, they stayed hidden while I journeyed home. The wind was angry tonight, just like me. Snowflakes rushed through the air like incensed white bees. It seemed there was a price to pay for its shimmering beauty, for snow couldn’t exist without the freeze.
For a few minutes, I just stood there. I knew it was just the adrenaline, but I felt… stronger. Better. As though, by fighting Úna, I’d reclaimed a piece of myself.
I was smiling when I emerged into the yard.
As usual, the porch light was on. I kept my eyes on it and jogged the rest of the way home. After I’d unlocked the door, I closed it behind me and pulled off one boot.
Muffled sobs drifted through the stillness.
I paused, startled, then hurried to get the other boot off. My socks muffled my footsteps as I went down the hall.
The instant I opened his bedroom door, the sound of Collith’s pain stopped. I didn’t believe for a second that it had passed—that wasn’t how pain worked. Instead, we tucked it away, where it was forced to be quieter and where we hoped it wouldn’t bother anyone.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I reached out blindly, picturing Collith on his side, as he so often was during his nightmares. Instead of a shoulder, my hand landed on the muscular swell of his chest. I barely noticed—the skin against my palm was hot. Fear ruptured through me, but it was mine, not Collith’s.
The faeries of the Unseelie Court ran cold. That was how evolution had made them, and there weren’t exceptions. They didn’t get sick, either, which meant that Collith was doing this to himself. Destroying his own body with the power of his mind.
He was dying right alongside his mother.
“Go away,” the king rasped when I left my hand there.
I pulled away, but I didn’t leave. Now that I knew what he’d been through, I couldn’t. Collith either gave up or stopped caring, because he was silent after that. The stillness became so loud, so ringing, that I could hear my own heartbeat. I knelt at Collith’s side, even after it started to hurt and the cold sank into my bones. Eventually Collith’s breathing deepened and it was clear he’d fallen asleep.