by K. J. Sutton
“Don’t act like you care about her,” a new voice snarled.
I turned my head, startled at the sight of a third individual standing in the cave. It was another man. He was… beautiful, I admitted, even with the jagged scar darkening one side of his face. He had a strong jaw and a straight nose. His slightly too-long hair gleamed in the firelight. His full lips were turned downward, and I caught myself wondering what his smile would look like.
Someone else was speaking now. Since turning my head didn’t hurt, I felt brave enough to sit up. This led me to notice there was something on the ground beneath me. I squinted, struggling to see in the dimness, and it took another second to realize I was looking at an arm. Farther down, I saw the curve of a hip and then a leg.
I was sitting on someone.
Shrieking, I scrambled to my feet. My cheeks were on fire and I stammered, trying to get out an apology. But my gaze fell on the woman’s face and I went still. She looked so familiar. She looked… dead.
There was a woman sitting at her side who looked very much alive. She was the one I’d been looking up at, I remembered. She had a long braid down her back and every part of her was hard with muscle. The silver-haired man was talking to her again. His voice seemed unkind, but the woman just chuckled.
She was doing something strange to the person on the ground—her hands came down hard and fast, again and again. The dark-haired man started pacing. I could see their fear, sense their urgency, but none of it touched me. I turned to examine the rest of the cave, hopeful to find some clue to my identity and how I came to be here.
At that moment, a figure appeared at the far end of the tomb. A man, I guessed from his outline, and though I couldn’t see his face there was something vaguely familiar about him, too. “Hello?” I called, breaking into a run. “Who are you?”
“Fortuna!” one of the men shouted from behind. There was something in his voice—a true note of terror—that made me hesitate. I slowed and looked over my shoulder. He wasn’t even looking this way; he was looking at that prone form next to the water. I didn’t want to think about her. I turned back to the forest, but the sound of the woman’s voice stopped me again.
“She doesn’t want to come back. I’m an expert at taking lives, and she should’ve been able to reclaim hers by now. I didn’t hold her down long.”
“Shut up,” the dark-haired man said through his perfect teeth. He’d taken over the strange chest motions now. The silver-haired man struck at the wall with his bare fist. Bits of stone went flying, and I drew back, wide-eyed and baffled at this display of strength. The man turned back, two spots of color on his cheeks, jaw clenched. My gaze dropped to his fist, expecting to see torn flesh or broken bones. To my astonishment, the wounds on his knuckles were knitting together. Healing.
“No wonder she resisted my advances,” the woman remarked, undaunted by the violence. “I see her heart is quite full already… with the two of you.”
The silver-haired man was breathing hard. He ignored the woman’s commentary, and his bright eyes finally went to the one still doing chest compressions. “Collith. She’s gone,” he said. His voice was hollow.
It was that name—hearing it out loud did something to me. Collith. I swayed on my feet, and if the man said anything else, I didn’t hear it. Dizzy, I was so dizzy. I looked at the dark-haired man and finally noticed his pointed ears. Faerie, I thought.
Images accosted me, one after the other, full of color and sound and faces. It felt like I was traveling through time, soaring down a tunnel of moments. Collith was in so many of them. His voice had become part of the material I was formed of. I saw our beginning, a morning of mist and cold—I hunched in a cage and Collith stood in front of me, shining with immortality.
How refreshing. A slave with spirit left in her.
I’m not a slave.
I remembered everything now. Comprehension slammed into me with such force I had to sit down. That was my body on the ground, I realized with slow horror. Gwyn had drowned me in that dirty creek, and Collith was trying to push air back into my lungs. But I watched him put his mouth over mine, and I felt nothing. It wasn’t working.
After everything we’d been through, this couldn’t be how we left things. Our story couldn’t end in a cold, dusty cave. Anguish expanded in my chest as I crawled over to Collith. He didn’t look up or stop. His breath was fragmented, as if he was on the verge of breaking.
“Collith.” I put my hands over his. “Collith, I’m so—”
Suddenly I was on my back again, staring up at an earthen ceiling. Collith must’ve seen my eyes open, because he’d stopped doing CPR. There was an instant of hushed, shocked silence.
Then I shot upright and vomited water onto the frozen dirt.
A hand held my hair back and comforting words filled my ear. Once I was done, I turned to see who it was, even though I already knew.
“Collith?” I whispered, hardly daring to believe this was real. That we were both alive.
Silently, he pulled me to him. His fingers were gentle, but I felt the tension in his body as I rested against it. Collith bent to bury his face in my neck. He still didn’t make a sound. We sat there, holding each other, and I gradually became aware of our surroundings again. Gwyn had vanished, along with Creiddylad’s body. As I searched the tomb, my gaze met Laurie’s.
I felt a flicker of surprise; I would’ve bet money that he’d disappear the instant we were all safe. He was still too pale, and I remembered the sacrifice he’d made to open the tomb. Thank you, I mouthed. The words felt inadequate. Laurie gave me a faint smile in return, but there was none of his usual vibrancy. It was then I remembered what Gwyn had said, when I’d been a spectator to my own death. It is prince, isn’t it? Now that you’re no longer a king?
The taunt went around and around.
Had Laurie… given up his throne for me?
My mind tried to reject it. Rationalize it. Deny it. But no matter how hard I fought the truth, it came back. The King of the Seelie Court, a creature capable of murder and cruelty, had made the ultimate sacrifice so I wouldn’t have to.
Reluctantly, I pulled away from Collith. When our gazes met, I darted a glance toward Laurie, hoping he would understand what I was about to do. What I needed to do. Collith said nothing, but the rage had gone from his eyes. He stood and helped me up.
Without a word, I crossed the space and wrapped my arms around Laurie. I made my grip tight, because I knew he was falling apart. However old Laurie truly was, no amount of years could prepare someone for loss. No matter what kind.
He didn’t hug me back, but he didn’t move, either. His chin rested on top of my head, the barest of touches. Why, then, did it feel as intimate as the kiss we’d just shared? I squeezed my eyes shut against the thought. For a tilting, disoriented instant, it felt like we were back in the snow, embracing in the shadow of the garage.
Then I remembered the embrace with Collith, next to the barn. It was strange, how our stories kept coming together, mirroring. Two souls. Two embraces. Two such wildly different feelings when I was with them. My chest hurt, like I was being pulled in opposite directions.
Laurie was the one to step back.
“I need to return to my Court,” he said. He didn’t meet my eyes as he spoke. “They would’ve felt the bond break.”
At least some things hadn’t changed—he didn’t let me have the final word. Laurie sifted, leaving me in the tomb with Collith.
The Unseelie King was still standing next to the water. I turned toward him, uncertain what to say. But Collith just walked over to me. “Let’s leave this place,” he said.
His expression was impossible to read. I nodded, and he moved toward the door. I finally retrieved my Glock from the ground, then followed Collith eagerly, more than ready to get away from the creek, the stone slab, and everything that had happened here tonight.
The return journey was hazy.
Later, I would remember walking through the forest, looking up
at the dead branches stretching overhead. I would remember the entrance to the Unseelie Court, looming up ahead like a hungry mouth. I would remember seeing Finn’s enormous silhouette on the porch. His anxiety rode on the wind, palpable as a gust of leaves. Every light in the house was on, streaming through the windows and lighting the way for our final steps. Home. I started to cross the yard, and my eyes stung with tears of profound relief.
“Good evening, Your Majesty.”
For once, I was too weary to be startled. I turned around and mustered an empty smile for the vampire standing there. Apparently I was too tired to be polite, as well. “What are you doing here?”
The front door opened. Emma came outside, a welcoming smile brightening her face. Collith and I exchanged a glance, and he moved quickly to intercept her. Cyrus stepped on the porch, too, wearing his usual stoic expression.
The sounds of their reunion filled the air as Dracula and I stared at each other. Finn was watching us, though, his lip curling into a snarl. I was faintly surprised to see he was still wearing his human shape.
“We keep the balance, Queen Fortuna,” the vampire said, finally answering my question.
There was a shade of expectancy in his voice, as if he’d given me a riddle and now I was supposed to solve it. It was my first instinct to walk away—I’d died tonight, and I wanted to spend the rest of it with my family. But then I couldn’t help thinking about Dracula’s timing. I also thought about his little Fight Club’s purpose. Keep the two worlds separate. Humanity on one side, Fallen on the other.
“That’s why you came to Granby. You knew Gwyn wanted to release Creiddylad,” I said slowly. Dracula just gave me a serene smile, and I scowled back. “If you were supposed to stop her, you’re a little fucking late.”
“We arrived exactly when we needed to—we watched Gwyn remove Creiddylad’s heart. It became clear that, if she’d intended to wreak havoc on the world, she would have done it by now. Clearly she didn’t care about the fate of her lover. We are soldiers, Your Majesty, which means we choose our battles carefully. This one did not require our intervention.”
My mouth almost dropped open as he offered his explanation. When I could speak again, my voice shook with rage. “Oh, great, so you were also there when she drowned me? Thanks for the help.”
“You would not have died, Queen Fortuna. Well,” Dracula amended as I stormed past him, “not entirely. I do so hate to see talent go to waste, so I made certain we would have this conversation, regardless of tonight’s outcome. Vampire blood, when consumed, will linger in the body for two weeks.”
I froze, staring at the house without seeing it. My mind rolled the words around like a Rubik’s Cube. Waste. Vampire blood. Consumed.
“The coffee,” I breathed as it clicked into place. I faced the vampire again, and I felt cold. Colder than I’d ever felt before. “You put vampire blood in that coffee you brought after my therapy session. You would’ve made me into one without my consent? Without giving me a choice?”
Dracula stood with his arms tucked behind his back, unruffled as ever. “Oh, there would have been a choice. We always have a choice.”
“Fortuna?”
The voice came from the porch. I turned around and saw that everyone was watching us. Cyrus was as imperturbable as ever, but Emma and Damon both wore expression of wariness. Finn seemed moments away from leaping over the porch railing and charging through the snow. As for the Unseelie King, his eyes were bright. Not with fear, I thought, but a cold readiness. The set of his jaw and the lines around of his mouth spoke volumes—he wasn’t going to watch me die again.
I wasn’t sure which one of them had said my name, but it didn’t matter. After what I’d been through, I needed to be with them. But as I turned back to Dracula, I realized this might be the last time I laid eyes on the infamous vampire—there was still something I wanted from him. I didn’t know enough about my own abilities, and Dracula had access to the past. To countless Fallen with long memories and even more connections. “Are you leaving town now?” I asked. The words were clipped.
The vampire’s eyes continued to roam my face, and I got the sense that he hadn’t looked away, not even when I’d been looking at my family. “Not yet,” he answered. “The huntress is lingering in this area, and we won’t depart until she does. Call it a precaution, I suppose.”
“Maybe I’ll see you at Adam’s, then.” I didn’t know what else to say, because what I wanted to say would be much worse. Dracula wasn’t an enemy, but he wasn’t a friend, either. Of that I was certain.
The vampire smiled again. “Oh, I can guarantee we shall see each other again, Your Majesty.”
I couldn’t decide if the words were friendly or ominous, but the conversation seemed over. As I started to turn away, I felt a rush of air. I glanced at the place Dracula had been standing, and it didn’t surprise me in the least that it was empty.
At last, I crossed the yard. My family was still waiting for me, gathered in a cluster at the top of the stairs. Emma’s hair glowed like a beacon in the porch light. She held out her hand and Damon shifted to make room for me.
I stepped into the circle of their arms, smiling.
Lyari and Ariel arrived a few minutes after everyone went inside.
There were six of us in the kitchen. The air was full of laughter, ice clinking in glass, and murmured conversation. We were all conscious of Matthew sleeping in another room. Every once in a while, the baby monitor on the table lit up with soft sounds.
My Right Hand came through the door without knocking, and her eyes immediately scanned the room, searching for me. She wore her Guardian uniform, along with a glassy sword at her hip, and her pointed ears weren’t disguised in glamour. If anyone had thought she was human before, the jig was definitely up.
“Lyari! Would you like a cocktail?” Emma exclaimed. Her attention went to Ariel and she gave the faerie a welcoming smile. “Hello! I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?”
Bubbly as ever, despite the reasons bringing us together tonight, Ariel danced forward to introduce herself. Lyari stayed where she was, and I gave her a weary smile. The faerie’s gaze sharpened, as if she could see something in my face that no one else had. “Sit down and have a drink with us,” I said, gesturing at the empty chairs.
But Lyari didn’t move from the doorway. Her body practically thrummed with tension. “I should let Nuvian and the Tongue know you’re alive,” she answered, keeping her voice low. The others were occupied with Ariel, though.
Let them know I’m alive? I thought, nonplussed. Then it hit me—the entire Unseelie Court would’ve felt the bond breaking the moment my heart stopped beating. In all the chaos, I’d forgotten. If they thought both the king and queen were dead, what was to stop the power-hungry courtiers from taking our thrones?
“Do you need me to come?” I asked, hoping no reluctance showed in my expression or my voice. It had been a long, long night—amongst everything else that happened, I had died and come back to life. I wasn’t sure I possessed the strength to fight another battle.
Collith, who’d been silently listening to our exchange, was stiff and silent beside me. I glanced at him but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Lyari shook her head. “If that changes, I know how to reach you. I’m… glad you’re alive.”
Coming from her, the words may as well have been an embrace. I smiled again, more genuinely this time. “Thanks. Me, too.”
While she made a show of leaving through the front door—it occurred to me that everyone here knew what she was, especially after arriving in all her fae glory, and there was no more need for pretense—I took another sip of my drink. Ariel had settled into one of the chairs, her laughter chiming through the room like a bell. Someone had already made her a cocktail, and once she saw my conversation with Lyari had ended, the faerie raised her glass into the air. “To beating the bad guys, and living to fight another day,” she declared.
There was only one person who w
ouldn’t understand her toast, but as usual, Cyrus didn’t ask any questions. That was why he’d been so adamant about not acknowledging us, I realized as I watched him. That was why I’d never guessed he was anything more than human. Cyrus ignored the part of himself that was Fallen. He did his best to pretend it didn’t exist. And if a dragon didn’t exist, how could a Nightmare? Or a werewolf? Or a faerie?
I pulled my gaze away from Cyrus and listened to Emma talk about how to evaluate marijuana quality. Ariel got up to make everyone another round of cocktails. Before I knew it, an hour had gone by. Gradually, like driftwood being carried along by a river, our small gathering drifted away piece by piece.
“I think those cocktails snuck up on me,” Emma said eventually, using the table as leverage to push herself up. The movement seemed slower than usual.
I tried to hide my worry. Collith started to rise, too. “Are you okay? Do you need—”
“Sit down and finish your drinks. Alcohol should never be wasted.” Emma gave Collith a look I couldn’t decipher. The floor creaked as she walked away. “Good night, you two.”
Collith and I both watched her leave. Once the sound of her footsteps faded, silence settled between us. Strangely enough, it was… uncomfortable. Uncertain. I stared down into my glass and remembered our last night together, before Gwyn stole Collith away. In spite of everything we’d been through tonight, I still wanted him. Apprehension fluttered in my stomach and I raised my gaze. “Do you—”
“Good night,” Collith said. He wouldn’t look at me. He got up from the table, holding his empty glass, and crossed the room to put it in the dishwasher. The sound of rattling plates made me jump.
“Good night,” I said to his back, frowning. Moments later, I heard the bathroom door close. A pipe in the wall groaned, a telltale sign that Collith had turned the shower on. It wasn’t a bad idea—Gwyn had shoved my head into dirty creek water a few hours earlier. Had I completely misread the tone of our night together? Was he one of those assholes who lost interest the moment a person slept with him?