Crown of Shadows (Court of Midnight and Deception Book 1)

by K. M. Shea

  Eclipse, the leader of my little night mare herd, also crossed the courtyard, stopping next to the monstrous creatures.

  She doesn’t seem alarmed by them, and I’m confident enough in her love for me that I’d say she doesn’t want to see me hurt. Maybe…they won’t hurt me.

  Cautiously, I stepped off the bench.

  “Are you really going to risk it?” Indigo asked. “Shades and glooms can—and have—killed! At least the night mares are somewhat domesticated—but the shades and glooms haven’t been in the Court for over a century!”

  “I trust Eclipse,” I said.

  Indigo muttered under her breath about “crazy, brainless humans,” and I heard a familiar chime when she unlocked her phone.

  I kept my gaze on Eclipse and slowly crossed the courtyard. All of my instincts screamed at me to run to safety, but the breezy feeling of my own natural magic grew.

  This is the one thing I’m good at—handling animals. I’ve always been cautious, but I believe in my magic, and in Eclipse.

  I stopped short of the creatures and held out my palm.

  The shade took a few steps—this close I could see its fur was still blurry, but distinctly matted—and sniffed my hand. Its dry nose brushed my fingers, and then it licked me with a slimy tongue.

  My heart stuttered, but I felt my magic, and noticed when the shade started wagging its tail.

  I slowly reached over its head and petted it.

  I nearly screamed when it abruptly moved in and pawed at my foot with one of its two front paws—which were a gray color.

  “Good boy,” I stupidly offered, but it leaned into me with the delight of a dog getting pets.

  The gloom screamed again, which made me jump and kicked my heart up another notch. But I offered my hand out again.

  The gloom sniffed it like a house cat might, then rubbed its cheek against my palm.

  The shade’s fur was thick and full—if not a little greasy feeling. The gloom’s fur was sleek but strangely gritty feeling.

  I relaxed as the gloom started purring, a deep, throbbing noise that came from its chest and rattled my bones as it leaned into me.

  I finally dared to look away from it, and glanced at the other glooms and shades lingering with my night mares.

  I did my best to offer them a smile, though for a moment I could have sworn I saw movement far behind the night mares, and a glimpse of silver hair and dark eyes.

  Is that Rigel? What’s he doing here?

  Twilight turned around to see where I was looking, and the gleam of silver was gone.

  If it was Rigel, he’d moved on.

  I glanced around the courtyard, but none of the animals seemed upset. I turned a little and called back to Indigo. “We’re good.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I glanced from the shade—which was still wagging its tail—to the gloom rubbing its face on my pants. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

  Indigo reluctantly climbed down from the bench and slowly crossed the courtyard, watching the animals rub against me. “I will say that for all your brashness in dealing with fae, you are excellent with animals.”

  “Or maybe the animals have always wanted to be like this, the fae have just been ignoring them.”

  “No, I don’t really think that’s it.” Indigo stared at the gloom’s paws and gigantic claws.

  I grinned, but let it slip from my face and sighed. “I should get back to ward practice—for offensive and defensive purposes.”

  Indigo squinted at me. “Wards can only be used for defensive purposes.”

  “Maybe—I bet there’s a creative way you can use it to smash someone.” I winked, then froze when I heard a rumbling noise.

  My fingers were buried in the gloom’s fur, so I felt the cat tense up.

  “What’s that?” I whispered.

  Indigo grabbed my arm—this time her eyes swam with despair. “That’s the ward surrounding the Night Court. It’s failing!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Leila

  “What?” I wildly turned in a circle, but we weren’t anywhere near the ward that marked off the border.

  “The fae realm is shrinking—all the Courts are trying to deal with it. But most monarchs can subsidize the ward’s power and lessen the shrinking effect. Since we haven’t had a ruler in months, the Night Court has been rapidly shrinking.”

  I started to swear, but cut myself off—there wasn’t time for that. “What can I do?”

  Indigo shook her head. “You can try to add your power to the ward, but—wait—you haven’t been trained for it!”

  I ignored the warning and wriggled my way onto Eclipse’s back. “I have to try. Eclipse, let’s go!”

  At my urging, the mare swiveled in a tight turn, then lunged into a canter.

  I was riding bareback—which was fun, but not in the night and while racing through a dangerous fae realm—and bridle-less—which I had never done before.

  Go me, getting all of these “fun” new experiences.

  Eclipse streaked through the realm. Everything was a dark blur, and my eyes teared up.

  I clung to her back, terrified that if I fell off I’d seriously hurt myself. We were moving that fast.

  I could hear the calls of the other night mares—they must have followed us. Based on the occasional awful scream, it seemed the glooms, and probably the shades, were coming along as well.

  But above all of that—even above the wind streaming past my ears—was the terrible rumbling of the failing ward.

  Eclipse had worked up a sweat by the time we reached the ward—even though it was a lot cooler here in the Night Realm. I wasn’t sure how long we’d run, but my fingers ached from gripping her mane, and my legs were starting to cramp from squeezing her sides when she slowed to a trot and then a walk.

  I impatiently rubbed my eyes, trying to clear them.

  We stood in a meadow, which was divided in half. The half I stood on was clear and glittered with moonlight, although the grass was mostly weeds and looked pretty shriveled.

  The sliced off half was a hazy black. The grass had died there, and the only remaining evidence that trees had ever been on that side were a few dead stumps. The air moved weirdly, too—it danced like heat above pavement on a hot day.

  A pale yellow barrier of magic divided the areas. Fae symbols and letters forged of glowing magic were burned into the ward, and they flared as the toxic magic on the other side of the barrier pushed against it.

  Blue Moon trumpeted at the wall, and Nebula pawed the ground with a hoof and tossed her head. It seemed like for now it was just me and the night mares. The shades and glooms hadn’t caught up yet.

  I shook my wrist, the familiar bangles of my charm bracelet providing minimal reassurance as I gazed at the wall. “Flore!”

  My charm bracelet glowed, and I pulled magic through it. “Let’s hope I’m doing this right!”

  When I was a kid and attended classes to learn how to use magic, I’d learned a bit about combining spells with other fae.

  I was betting this was a similar idea—I could add my power to the structure of the spell. The trick was adding it correctly so I didn’t break anything.

  I thrust my arm out in front of me—my palm flat—and willed the spun magic to join in the ward by filtering it in through a few specific symbols.

  My magic—the same purplish color as my eyes—glowed as it entered the ward, adding a purplish patch to the ward.

  I could feel the ward. It was ancient, and immense. As I threw more magic at it, I could see the complex spell work behind the barrier. And I felt it sputter, and weaken.

  Eclipse abruptly made a sharp turn, and cantered off.

  I yelped and would have slipped over her side, but she crow hopped, throwing me back into place.

  “Wait—I can do more!” I shouted. The rumbling noise was so loud, I couldn’t even hear myself. It was like being stuck in a giant clock.

  Eclipse tossed her head and cantered into a shadow
y forest filled with trees that had lost most of their leaves.

  She slowed to a walk and turned around as the other night mares ran past us, looking back at the barrier.

  I clutched her thin mane as the barrier—immeasurably old and powerful—was pushed across the meadow.

  It was a horrifically slow crawl. And every inch it gave up blackened and died once it hit the toxic air past the barrier.

  Slowly, the barrier shrank, and the toxic outer realm ate up the entire meadow.

  The ward stopped—making the ground shudder—just short of the forest the night mares and I were hiding in.

  I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

  The Paragon said the fae realms were shrinking, but I never thought it would be this bad.

  My eyes lingered on the bright magic symbols.

  How am I supposed to solve this, if magic this powerful can’t hold up anymore to the toxic outer realm?

  I started shaking, so I draped myself across Eclipse, greedily sucking up her heat.

  “Why did you choose me to be queen?” I asked. “I can’t do anything about this. I was proud because I could lift up a shield faster—I can’t rebuild a ward.”

  Blue Moon affectionately lipped my shoulder, and the glooms and shades appeared in the shadows of the forest, their eyes glowing in the dim light.

  I shut my eyes and pushed my face into Eclipse’s bony neck.

  I can’t do this. There’s no way I’m going to win—not my Court, not the stupid fae war for power, and certainly not this fight for the realm itself.

  Eclipse’s muscles rippled as she stamped a hoof.

  But they chose me. I have to try.

  “You enter the treasury through this door, find the artifact that resonates with you, then continue to the door on the far side of the chamber where Indigo, myself, and the Court will be waiting for you to complete the ceremony and claim your artifact,” Skye said. “Do you understand?”

  “Yep,” I said, purposely popping the p.

  Indigo plucked at my skirts, straightening them for me.

  For this very official occasion, she’d selected a midnight blue, off the shoulder gown with lace sleeves and little crystals sewn into the torso so it resembled a twinkling night sky.

  They hadn’t shoved a crown on my head yet—today I was wearing another silver circlet—but I was starting to wonder if there was a rule that required long sleeves and skirts to make the monarch as uncomfortable in summers as possible.

  Probably. I bet it’s that darned original king’s work.

  “How strongly will I feel the pull of the artifact that resonates with me?” I asked.

  Skye had gotten herself a leather case for her tablet, which she flipped over it and gripped like a clutch as she frowned in thought. “That’s difficult to say, as only royals have experienced the process. When I researched the process, it seemed to be a very strong, unmistakable pull. When you touch it, you’ll know.”

  “‘You’ll know,’ typical magic description,” I grumbled. “Thank you for researching this so thoroughly.”

  Skye shrugged. “I had plenty of time while you were practicing magic and reading fae history books.”

  “Ahh, yes, I was very happy to graduate from ‘Good Manners Mandy’ and move on to more serious topics,” I said. “Though I wish you had not given me the children’s textbook version.”

  “Were you offended by the reading level?”

  “No. The pictures were awful! They need to get a better artist,” I complained.

  A smile briefly warmed the edges of Skye’s lips. “Good luck, Queen Leila. I look forward to your triumphant ceremony.” She bowed, then swept off, leaving me and Indigo alone.

  I sighed and raised a hand to rub my eyelids.

  “Don’t you dare.” Indigo prodded my skirt. “It took me too long to get your eyeliner right—I don’t want you ruining it.”

  When I cracked a smile at my companion she sniffed, then added, “You’ll do fine, my Sovereign. I know you’re worried about your magic, but in truth I think you’ve practiced more than a lot of nobles bother to.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “It just seems better to brace myself—every official social situation I’ve been in has had a disaster in some form or another.”

  “No one can set a trap for you,” Indigo said. “Only royals are allowed in these chambers—magic kills any regular fool who is stupid enough to try otherwise. It’s a safe location. And the artifact resonates with you. They’re impartial judges—you won’t face any hatred for your blood.”

  I nodded, my spirits lifting a little—I’d been feeling a little low ever since the Night Realm shrunk a few days ago, and had been dreading this, but Indigo had a point.

  “You’re right,” I said.

  “Of course I am.” Indigo put her hands on her hips. “Now, go pull your sword from the stone!”

  I paused, my hand on the door. “Do they really have one of those in there?”

  “I meant it figuratively.” Indigo shook her head. “Stop freaking yourself out. Besides,” she turned and started down the hallway in the same direction as Skye had. “You don’t really care what all of those fussbudgets think, anyway!”

  I grinned at the brownie’s back and watched until she disappeared around the corner, before I reluctantly pushed open the rather unassuming door that was dust covered and had a few cobwebs draped around its frame.

  The treasure room was deep in the heart of the castle in the Night Realm—it was a ceremony that couldn’t be moved to the human world because, as Indigo had said, only royals were allowed inside.

  Given the state of the castle, I’d prepared myself for a crumbling room with tarnished, decaying treasures.

  But when I stepped inside, I found a space untouched by the passage of time.

  Gold globs of magic flared to life, lighting up the chamber. A spell, written out in symbols, wrapped around the exterior of the room—it cast the light, served as a defense spell, and had a few other pieces to it that were too advanced for me and written in a language I didn’t understand.

  Inside the room were enough treasures—and of rare variety—to match a small country’s gross domestic product. See? I’d been studying up a lot on ruling a country, er, Court.

  There were baskets of giant gems; rows and rows of weapon stands filled with swords, halberds, staffs, bows, and more; trays of necklaces, bracelets, rings, and earrings studded with massive jewels; beautiful, ornately made instruments ranging from a violin to a golden flute to a lyre; huge shelves stuffed with magical tomes that were bound in dyed leather; and less regular artifacts, like a compass that smelled strongly of the ocean, a teacup made of solid gold, and an armoire filled with masks in different shapes and sizes.

  The air smelled like metal, wood polish, and—weirdly—of dew. There wasn’t a single cobweb or speck of dust to be seen anywhere.

  The door closed behind me with an ominous thud, and I stood in the entryway, waiting for the pull of an artifact.

  And I waited.

  And waited.

  Oh my gosh. I’d bet a lifetime supply of my favorite coffee that I’m going to be the first fae queen who doesn’t have an artifact resonate with her.

  I paced back and forth, peering anxiously around the room.

  Maybe I need to go in deeper? So more of the artifacts feel me?

  It sounded like an excuse, but I really, really didn’t want to be the first queen without an official royal artifact.

  I desperately walked up and down the rows of treasures, my stomach sloshing with each step I took.

  I stared at the door I was supposed to go out—it had an ornate moon carved into its wooden surface. “It’s fine,” I said. “Totally fine. I can work with this—I’ll have to. Besides, it makes sense—I am human.”

  And then I felt it.

  Faintly, magic brushed against me.

  It wasn’t a pull—it wasn’t even a tug—it was just a barely-there feeling.

  Desperate, I
followed the feeling, which led me up to one of the baskets overflowing with jewels.

  I picked up the first few on the top—a giant opal, then a ruby the size of a tennis ball. Neither reacted.

  I worked my way down to the very bottom of the basket, pulling out precious gems of every color and size, until I reached what looked like a glass prism.

  It was about the size of my thumb—just a little bigger—and had a pointed top, while the base was a little rough, as if it had been snapped off a bigger gem.

  It was well polished, and when I held it up, it cast little rainbows across the room, and I felt the magic strengthen into a very slight tug.

  It certainly didn’t feel strong enough to be called an unmistakable pull, but when I touched it, I did feel…something. It wasn’t like I felt the artifact itself, but more like I could better sense the wild magic that floated in the air through it.

  It’s about what I expected. I curled my hand around the prism. I’m such an oddball here, of course I would end up with a small, unimpressive artifact.

  I mean, I wasn’t thrilled—with all of this evidence stacking up I really had to wonder what on earth made the night mares think I could even be a decent queen—but a small artifact was better than no artifact.

  I dutifully piled the gems back into the basket—since no one could come in after me, if I left it here it would stay a mess for my successor, which would be rude—but it wasn’t until I’d made my way over to the exit that I had a happy realization.

  “Oh, but this means I’ll be able to fit it in my purse or pockets! Now that is some awesome convenience. Yep, it’s fine!”

  Cheered, I pushed the door open. As soon as a slit of light from the outside entered the room, the globs of light winked out.

  I slithered out of the opening—I got the feeling I wasn’t supposed to let anyone see the inside—and when the door clicked shut behind me, I felt magic thrum to life.

  I’m pretty sure if anyone tried to go inside, the door wouldn’t open.

  I smiled brilliantly for my Court, and tried not to look too gleeful.

  It was going to be oodles of fun to show them my tiny artifact!