by K. J. Sutton
At this, my eyebrows knit together. I searched Nuvian’s expression as if I’d find an explanation in his permanent scowl or hate-filled gaze. “Since when are you her messenger boy? What is this?”
“You are in no danger. That’s all that matters. Come.” The tall faerie stepped aside, casually resting a hand on the hilt of his sword.
I glanced down at it, frowning, then looked over my shoulder. Maybe it was time to wake Finn or Collith. “Fine. Wait here while I—”
“Viessa would like to speak with you alone.”
His tone was pointed, indicating he knew exactly what I’d been about to do. Was I that obvious? My eyes narrowed and I took a step back. “I’m not going anywhere without backup,” I told him flatly.
“Have I not saved your life a dozen times over?” the faerie demanded. As he spoke, his gaze finally snapped to mine. The clouds shifted, then, and faint moonlight bounced off those dreadlocks now. I could see Nuvian’s expression better, too. From the curl of his lip, I’d clearly insulted him again. He had saved my life, it was true. But what I found more interesting was that Viessa must’ve been holding something over his head—the Right Hand of the Unseelie King didn’t just run errands for a prisoner from the goodness of his heart.
It was curiosity, and the desire to placate the individual keeping me alive, that made me ignore my misgivings. After a backwards glance toward the room where Collith slept, I followed Nuvian into the night.
There were more Guardians waiting near the trees. They fell ahead and behind me, their swords and armor making slight sounds in the quiet. Nuvian remained at my side. Neither of us spoke, and it was a different silence than the one I shared with Lyari—this one was thick and cold, like there was a sheet of ice between us. I thought back to the moment I’d used Nuvian’s fears against him, and I wondered if it had been a mistake. Too often, the line between power and decency blurred, and I always seemed to be standing on the wrong side when they solidified again.
Once we arrived at the entrance to the Unseelie Court, I didn’t delay or falter, and the darkness welcomed me like an old friend. The deeper we moved into the tunnel, the more I could feel every creature beneath my rule, like faint lights at the edge of my mind—something had changed when they helped me last night. Despite the absence of a bond, some extended greetings in images or thoughts. As the picture of a rose bouquet floated through me, I felt an unexpected rush of fondness toward them. When had I begun to care about these creatures? How had they slipped beneath the steel plates I’d built around my heart? And how the hell could I still feel them?
I was frowning again as we made our way through the maze. Nuvian offered wordless guidance, nodding or gesturing whenever we came to a fork. We had been traversing the shadows for fifteen minutes, at least, by the time he halted at a familiar gap in the earth. The golden-haired faerie stood back, waiting for me to walk ahead of him. Remembering my last visit, I stopped to remove one of the torches from its sconce. With a grip as tight as I usually gripped the Glock, I held it aloft and began my descent.
Nuvian followed so closely that I could’ve reached behind and touched him. The rest of the Guardians must have remained in the passageway, because I could only hear my footsteps. Nuvian, of course, moved soundlessly. Within seconds, a smell assailed my senses. It was a combination of urine, shit, and unwashed bodies. I grimaced but continued down the narrow, uneven steps.
At the bottom, I paused to gather my composure. Faint moans drifted up and down the passageway. Someone was sobbing. Though it was the third time I’d been in these dungeons, I still thought of that terrible night after I’d been whipped by the Death Bringer and vowed to despise Collith forever. So much had changed since then—everything had changed. Including me. I lifted my chin and walked past the seemingly endless row of prisoners. This time I needed no help from Nuvian.
I stopped several feet away from the cell, as if distance between us could protect me from what was coming. I faced its murky depths, and I knew this was the right cage, but there was no sign of the would-be assassin. She was playing with me, no doubt. My voice was harsh in my own ears as I snapped, “Well?”
There came the sound of feet shuffling over stone and dirt. A moment later, Viessa stepped into the light.
She looked different from the last time we’d spoken—someone had been feeding her far better. Her bones no longer jutted from her skin and her pupils, such a pale blue they were nearly white, regarded me with bright anticipation. Bare toes peeked out from the hem of a new gown, which clung to her supple frame. Despite the frost that still coated half her face, the faerie’s loveliness shone through. It had been there all along, but I’d been distracted by the words coming out of her mouth and the strange manifestation of her abilities. Now I noticed the graceful lines of her nose, jaw, and brows, the perfection of her features like something out of a painting. I could understand why Collith had fallen in love with this creature, and I hoped she didn’t detect the stab of jealousy that pierced me.
“I believe you’ve met my brother,” Viessa said without preamble. Her voice was stronger, too.
“Brother?” I repeated blankly. It took me another second to realize she meant Nuvian, who returned my bewildered stare without expression. As I faced Viessa again, I realized that I’d never asked what bloodline she was from.
No wonder Nuvian had protected me so diligently against the assassination attempts, despite his obvious hatred. If Viessa was ever to get her boon, she needed the Unseelie Queen alive. It was also why he’d never asked questions about Ayduin’s disappearance—if I was held accountable for murdering a faerie without a tribunal, after he’d broken no laws, I probably wouldn’t have held the throne long.
A small, satisfied smile hovered around Viessa’s frozen lips. “Yes, of course. He’s the one who made certain you were put in the cell next to mine, so we could have our little chat.”
What a fool I’d been. What a complete and utter fool. I’d actually thought Viessa was a rare breed of faerie, one who offered honesty and help without some hidden agenda. But she was just like so many others I’d encountered—always tricking and scheming. Lying and using.
“Why did you summon me here?” I asked with barely-suppressed rage. All I wanted to do was throw myself forward, bury my nails into her bare arm, and send her screaming into terror’s dark embrace.
“Well, the time has come, Your Majesty.” Viessa gripped the bars with her blackened fingers. “All my pieces are in place. I would like to collect the debt owed to me.”
“What do you want?” I asked. Wariness joined the anger, now—it hovered beneath the surface of my voice like the dragon I’d slaughtered, its great shape moving through black waters.
Viessa tilted her head and a curtain of red hair fell over her delicate shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious? I want the throne. You’re going to publicly abdicate and show your support for my rule.”
She truly thought I would just hand over the Unseelie Court to her? An incredulous laugh lodged in my throat. “I told you I would only grant a boon that—”
“Unfortunately, you still have much to learn about the fae,” she told me matter-of-factly. “You never specified that you’d only grant a boon you were willing to. Wording is tricky art. I’d advise you to master it.”
The faerie paused, probably giving me a chance to consider her request, but I didn’t need to. Sorry, Dad, I thought. This was one promise I couldn’t keep. Without another word, I turned to leave. Nuvian didn’t move to stop me—he probably recognized the expression on my face.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me! That throne is owed us, damn it!” Viessa hissed. When I turned back, I saw that she’d pushed her face against the bars. Ice spread over the metal and glittered in the firelight.
I kept my face expressionless as I asked, “What makes you think you have any right to the throne?”
Viessa drew back and loosened her hold on the bars. It was as though a mask fell over her face. Within seconds, the fae
rie looking back at me was calm once again. “It was written that in the event of Sylvyre’s death, the crown would go to his twin Folduin,” she said. “But the bastard snuck in an addendum—he wrote that only his descendants would rule. It was his final ‘fuck you’ to his brother.”
My humorless laugh echoed down the black corridor. “Faeries suck. Welcome to my world. It still isn’t enough to make me betray my mate.”
“How interesting. My sources inform me he is your mate no longer, and that he is very much alive. Did you lovebirds miss the ‘until death do us part’ portion of the vows?”
“Your sources,” I echoed faintly. I must’ve reacted to her comment in some other way, because the other female smiled. I felt hollow as I considered who had known about the broken mating bond. There were only a few possibilities. Who had betrayed me? Betrayed Collith? Viessa was talking again, her dulcet tones floating through the dark, and I forced myself to refocus on her.
“…for the best, of course.” Viessa gave a mock shudder. “I’m assuming he told you about his… collection. So parasitic. Like a leech.”
Don’t take the bait, Fortuna. Don’t fall for her tricks. I stood there for a moment, trying to find the strength to walk away. Instead I heard myself ask, “What are you talking about?”
Triumph flashed in her eyes, and I could have kicked myself. Still playing with me like a child with a toy, Viessa arched a brow. “You didn’t ask him? No, of course you did. Silly me. Collith excels at dancing around the truth.”
“And what is the truth?” I demanded, stepping closer in my impatience. I knew I was giving her exactly what she wanted, damn it, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Viessa didn’t crook a finger, and it was probably because she knew the gleam in her eyes was just as affective. Her voice lowered, as though she were telling me a delicious secret. “Every time Collith has sex, he takes a piece of his partner,” she whispered through the bars. “Just a tiny piece. You hardly would’ve noticed its absence.”
My mind took a beat to process her words, then another laugh rose to my lips. I could already hear it, echoing in the tunnel around us, scornful and dismissive. Lies. More lies. That’s all your kind does. Slowly, though, the laugh died and the disbelief wavered. Viessa’s revelation replayed through memory, then replayed again. I began to consider the unthinkable.
What if she was actually telling the truth?
It felt like someone had shoved their hand through my chest and wrapped their hand around my heart. Tight, too tight. I heard Collith’s voice now, entwining with the shadows of his bedroom, claiming me like a spell. Some faeries have a… specialty. A certain power or ability unique from others.
What’s yours? I had asked.
He never answered.
A new suspicion took root now, and every word I spoke was a drop of water, making it grow and grow. My mind flashed back to that strange moment in the barn.
But I was just in here, and it didn’t look like this.
An illusion. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.
An illusion?
Holy shit. The day we’d met, Collith had disappeared in a theatrical gust of leaves. I had just assumed it was a fae trick, but there were limits to what they could do, same as every other species. I should’ve questioned his abilities then and there.
“That’s how he has so much power,” I said out loud. “The heavenly fire… Laurie’s illusions… the sifting…”
I trailed off as I fit even more pieces together. Suddenly I understood, at long last, why Laurie had tried to kill the Unseelie King, resulting in that jagged scar. Collith stole his power. Then, in typical fae fashion, Laurie tried to exact his revenge with a terrible spell. Sylvyre, of course, had double-crossed him and used it on Naevys. Too many tricky faeries. Too many twisted games.
Even if you win, you don’t win, Collith had told me once upon a time. At least he’d been truthful about one thing.
It struck me, suddenly, that Collith was a Nightmare now.
Viessa was silent—she’d said all she needed to. I stared at her lovely, glittering face without really seeing it. My insides roiled and now I was the one gripping the bars. It felt as if they were all that held me upright. This was a pain I’d never experienced before. Different from the night I’d looked down at my butchered parents. Different from the morning I realized Damon was missing. Different from the days I’d spent starving and sleepless in a goblin’s cold garage. Different from the hour I’d been tied to those tree roots and whipped. Different, even, from that pain-drenched night when I’d traded my virginity for Collith’s life.
I’d known there was more to his offer of marriage than desire.
And yet… I had chosen to trust him anyway. I allowed myself to fall, even though I’d known the floor was concrete. These past few days, secret daydreams had flitted through my head, visions of a future I’d never dared to hope for before. More mornings with him, filled with freshly-made coffee and making love in slants of sunlight. More evenings with him, sitting next to each other at the kitchen table, aware of every brush of our knees while the rest of the family talked around us. And, eventually, the arrival of the daughter Mercy had shown me in her spell.
It was an entire life. Together.
All of those daydreams shriveled like a dying flower, until nothing remained but dry and colorless petals.
I knew Viessa was watching the parade of emotions march across my face. I forced my mind back to the present, and I realized I was blinking rapidly, as if every torch around us had gone out and we were sitting in the dark. Viessa was offering this information up without anything in return… but that didn’t mean it was free. She was a faerie, after all. She wanted to drive a wedge between us. Wanted me to hate him.
Well, it worked. I didn’t even care that I was playing right into her hands. I raised my head and met Viessa’s pale gaze. My voice was as cold as her skin. “You want the throne? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
I expected another flash of triumph or a cruel smile. Instead, I thought I caught a glimpse of pity in her eyes. But there was nothing in her voice as she said, “It’s simple. Be at the throne room tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. My followers will assemble the entire Court, and once we have their full attention, I will require a display from you that rejects both Collith and your queenship. Oh, and I will need you to persuade him to join us.”
“Does Nuvian have a key for your cell?” I asked dully.
The faerie waved an emaciated hand. “Never mind that. It’s all been arranged.”
“I do have one condition,” I said. Viessa had begun to turn away, and at my words, she paused with a quirked brow. I looked at her and did nothing to hide the ruthlessness that lived in my heart. “Don’t undo the only good thing I did as queen. Don’t bring back the slave trade.”
For a moment, Viessa said nothing. Her expression didn’t change, but there was something behind her eyes, a light of calculation and cunning. When I saw that, I knew she would be a powerful queen. Whether or not she would be a good one was yet to be seen. “Very well,” she said at last.
“Not good enough, I’m afraid. I would like a blood oath.” She inclined her head in silent agreement, and I turned to Nuvian. In the same lifeless tone I asked, “Do you have a knife?”
“You don’t need a knife,” Viessa interjected. I looked back at her and caught the end of an assessing look, as though I’d surprised her. She thrust her arm through the bars. Icicles grew from her palm like a dozen needles. She watched my face, probably expecting to see hesitation or wariness. But I didn’t flinch as I took her hand—this pain was nothing.
The usurper’s voice was startlingly sincere as she said the words. “I, Viessa of the bloodline Folduin, swear an oath to keep slaves out of the Unseelie Court for the entirety of my rule.”
She tried to pull away once she was finished, but I held on tighter. Viessa’s eyes met mine in a soundless question. My chest felt hollow as I told her, “If you try to find a l
oophole or break your oath, I will come back and slaughter you, along with everyone you love. Am I being clear enough, or shall I provide some imagery?”
Though she tried to hide it, fear crawled into Viessa’s eyes. Good. She wasn’t a fool, then. “You are perfectly clear,” she answered.
With those words, it felt like something inside me shifted. Like I’d turned the final page of a book or the curtains had closed after the last act. I let go of Viessa’s icy hand and drifted away. My boots felt heavier, suddenly, and it took all my concentration to lift them, again and again, and get up the stairs.
“Where are you going?” I heard her call after me. The question went unanswered, lingering in the darkness like a restless spirit. The truth was, I didn’t know.
Some part of me was aware of Nuvian and the other Guardians following my progress. I wandered through the passageways—the same ones I’d once run through in mindless terror—and stopped in front of a door. The door to Collith’s rooms, I realized distantly. It opened with a light push, and the hinges creaked as I shuffled inside. Unlike the first time I stepped into this place, there wasn’t a welcoming fire in the grate. It had probably been that way for a while, but I hadn’t noticed until now. No one to start one, I guess. The thought put a strange smile on my lips. I moved through the cold, alone now, since Nuvian and the others had stayed in the tunnel.
I ended up in Collith’s small library. The air smelled like old paper and dust. There was a wistful, forgotten feeling about the furniture, as if the reading chair and the shelves longed for their owner’s return. Slowly, I grasped one of the books by its spine and pulled it out. Agatha Christie. I recalled the first time I’d seen these books and realized there was more to the Unseelie King than met the eye.
There was a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Power hummed in my veins. It wanted to get out. It wanted to latch onto someone. It wanted to feed.
I didn’t linger long in the king’s rooms—they held nothing for me but memories and pain. I looked at the bed and saw myself lying there with Collith, beginning to trust him against my better judgment. I saw the wardrobe and thought of all the gowns it housed, costumes for the role I’d been playing all these long weeks to buy Collith more time. I saw the desk, the fireplace, and the chairs and relived the night we’d read together, giving me a glimpse of the life we could’ve had.