by Sage, May
I blink. "What's that?" I murmur.
Samel tosses the flask to his knights. "A dangerous tool. Highly addictive, and harmful in greater doses. It's ambrosia. A recipe that belonged to the ancient gods. We only use it when in dire need. It tricks your mind into believing you're well. You aren't. It'll only work for a time."
I nod, understanding the peril in such a tool. But today, I don't care about the repercussions. All I ask is for that sip to fool me for the next hour.
Samel peeks behind the trunk of our tree. "I sense the presence of several. And considerable power."
I nod. It’s hard to miss.
I've only been in Violet's company once, and she was flanked by two gods back then. I don't know what her presence feels like. Yet, the aura I sense is somewhat familiar. And as Samel said, powerful.
"There'll be guards," I say. "I'll try to slip by them to get to her." The sooner I kill her, the sooner this will all be over. "Can you handle them?"
"I suppose that remains to be seen." The commander is matter-of-fact. He may die and he doesn't seem to care. Seelie might as well be another species, after all.
"Let's see, then."
To my relief, we don't race up the hill. We saunter, to draw the guards to us. And they come at us. A dozen humans rushing out of the immense tent. Lords, I'd guess, from their rich clothes and great swords. The three seelie knights raise their swords, ready for the onslaught. Leaving my sword at my side, I raise both arms instead. All men stop, then scream, then drop at my feet.
Samel lowers his arms. "Why, exactly, aren't you in the battlefield at the moment?"
I shrug. "A few of them, right in front of me, is easy. I can't engulf an entire army at once."
Humans are too weak to feed the Void, but sucking on them didn't cost me any energy either. And a good thing too: I know this is just the aperitif. The amount of power I sense radiating from the tent hasn't changed.
The next person coming out of the tent is a looming shadow that has haunted my nightmares these few years. A dark-haired immortal with a cruel beauty. In my dreams, I taste him again, and I can't let go. In my dreams, I kill him and lose myself in the process.
Samel steps forward, but I hold his sleeve. He's not ready to face him. None of us are.
I don't know why I didn't expect the gods to be here. I thought they would have taken Tenebris and returned to their empire. Why are they still at Violet's side? It doesn't make sense.
"Didn't I kill you once, little Vikus?" I ask.
He bares his white teeth. "You failed in this, as in all things, child."
I take one step forward. "Oh? The way I see it, I got my people out when you meant to kill or control them. For ten years, I kept them safe, and you failed to make Tenebris yours. I can't imagine your daddy took that well. Is that why you were banished, forced to babysit our little kingdom?"
I'm baiting him, because right now, I feel layers of shields around him. He needs to attack me; to do so, he'll have to lower his defenses.
"I'm exactly where I want to be," he replies, unbothered.
I tilt my head.
This continent was meant to be ours. When our kind grew tired of the old world and moved here, we were supposed to claim all of it, hence why it was called Alfheimr, home of the elven folk—the fae. But the immortals accompanying us took one look when we landed and decided they liked it. Their empire is built in their image, with all the entertainment, all the pleasures they require. I'm not surprised they want our land, if only because our magic makes it beautiful, abundant, rich. But immortals cannot be satisfied here in Tenebris. We don't worship them, we don't sacrifice in their name, we don't line up to participate in their orgies. Humans consider them gods—we know that the immortal descendants of the old gods aren't very different from us. More powerful, perhaps, but they can bleed and die just like the rest of us.
"Oh? Color me surprised. Tonight will be a full moon. Aren't you missing a hell of a party?"
His eyes narrow. He doesn't like that I know of their custom. And I'm right. He wants to be there, in his capital, gorging on wine, lust, and blood.
"Let me guess. Daddy dearest told you to remain here until you've gotten rid of me. He's too frightened to face me himself after last time and, well, you're expendable. You must have a sister or brother better suited to the throne."
I can tell from the darkness creeping in his eyes that I'm right again. "I was given Tenebris. This is my land. I'll have my pleasures right here, with your people, every full moon. Just as soon as I've destroyed you."
I laugh out loud. "You truly are insane."
If he thinks the folk are going to lick his boots—or anything else—he's certifiable.
"And you're as good as dead, vermin," he retorts.
It's all the warning I get before the hill collapses under my feet. I leap in the air, letting my wings push through my reinforced tunic. I can feel Samel and the two others do the same behind me. At least they have wings; not all of us do. A flock of humans bursts out of the tent, bows ready, and shoot at us. The speed of my wings serves me well. The paper-thin membranes infused with magic are so fast that to an untrained eye, I disappear and reappear at another place. My companions aren't pixies: I hear them scream as arrows hit their wings, their most vulnerable features. I manage to fly to the border of the precipice, landing too close to the Vikus boy.
I try to spring back, but he reaches for me, grabbing me by the wing. Then he rips it off. My scream cuts through the valley, piercing the air. I've never known such pain. It's not just that he's ripped away one of my limbs—he's also taken part of me. A magic that makes me Vlari. I fall and try to crawl away, but he draws his foot back and kicks me so hard I'm propelled backward. I hear his delighted laughter as he hovers over me, grabs my throat, and knees my stomach firmly enough for bile to rise to my throat. Never letting go of me, he keeps hitting me—knees, feet, punches. He's gleefully knocking me around like I'm a ragdoll. He's not using any of his power, keeping his shield firmly in place. Part of me wonders why he doesn't just finish it. He has me. I can't get away. I'm no use at close range against an immortal twice my size. But I know why he's taking his time: he's enjoying it.
I tortured him. He's going to kill me with his bare hands.
In the distance, the sun goes down. I have just enough strength to turn toward Whitecroft. The seelie riders have attacked.
I try to find peace. At least Titus will see that my people are freed from this monster. He'll take care of them. He'll take them north and reinforce his borders—I don't doubt it for a moment.
I think about my mother's death. Pointless. I think about Meda, who sacrificed so many years to try to shape me into something, someone who could fight. She threw them away.
I think of Drusk. I promised him I’d be careful. I suppose fae can lie, after all. I need him more than air, more than the sky with all its stars, more than life itself, and he never knew it.
I can't get away from the immortal. I can't…
I see steel flash through the air. A dagger.
A dagger I recognize.
It almost killed me once. Now it's aimed at the Vikus's throat.
The immortal catches it midair, turning in the direction from where it was thrown—behind me. He rises, letting me go, and I don't hesitate to crawl away.
When I'm a few paces from him, I rise, wincing.
The Vikus ignores me, eyes behind me. I dare a glance back.
Drusk.
Drusk is standing right behind me, his dark wings expanded behind his back. He flew to me, leaving Whitecroft, right in the middle of a battle. There are arrows sticking out of his back, but he ignores them all, ignores everything but me. Or rather, my back. At first, I think he's paying attention to my broken, ripped-off wing. It can't be pretty. But his eyes are set on something else entirely.
The mark running over my skin. The mark he has on his shoulder, too.
I feel the Vikus's magic before I see it: he's throwing destructiv
e magic at both of us. Now we're two, he's done playing.
One of Drusk's wings wraps around me and pulls me to him. With a nonchalant wave, he molds Myst into a shield.
Now that I'm close, I reach around to pull out each arrow and start to heal him. He takes my wrist, shaking his head. "Not now. You have somewhere to be," he reminds me. He turns his attention back on the Vikus. "I'll take care of this."
I want to say no. He can't face an immortal by himself. Last time he did, he almost died.
The Vikus is striding toward us.
We should take him together. If Drusk can keep him occupied, I can attack when his shields are down.
Before I can say a word, Drusk kisses the side of my cheek. "Let me do this, princess."
I hear it in his voice. The raw need for blood and vengeance. I'm his. He didn't know it before, but I'm his and the Vikus was hurting me. He wants blood for it.
I nod, and rush toward the tent. The immortal tries to launch himself at me, but Drusk places himself in his path. The impact as they collide sounds like a roar. I don't give them another look, because if I do, I'll remain behind.
And I have my own war to wage.
I enter the tent.
Secrets and Lies
Vlari
My blood is ice.
For a long moment, I don't understand what I see at all. It can't be real. It must be a nightmare.
My personal nightmare.
The tent doesn't look like anyone's idea of a queen's war council. There's no map, no plan, no table. Just one throne, and in a corner, one large bed with red covers and silk cushions. A lovers' nest. Except the girl on it has been bound at the ankles and wrists, to be used as the Vikus saw fit, no doubt. She doesn't even move at my entrance, so still one might believe her dead.
Violet is a broken slave.
And from the one throne in the room, Morgana Lilwreath smiles down at me.
At her side, kneeling on the floor of the tent, there are four women, all naked, their heads cast down. They do not move. I don’t think they can. They may as well be made of stone.
"You're dead," I reason. "I saw you burned to ashes."
As the words cross my lips, I know them to be a lie. Not the kind of lie I cannot say: I've seen a woman burned to ashes, and I believed it was my grandmother. It'd been a decoy, a fake.
"And you're incredibly gullible," she says, bringing a bloodred grape to her mouth.
I can't make sense of it. Whatever way I try, I just don't get what's going on.
So I give up. I just ask, "Why are you doing this to her? She's your daughter."
Morgana chuckles. "Yes, I suppose she's that. But I've no use for a treacherous worm, let alone an incompetent one. If she'd come to me in peace, I’d have pitied her and given her some land to lord over. Instead, she intended to take my kingdom. We can't have that, can we?"
I nod. So, Violet schemed without her knowledge. One small piece of the puzzle, but I still can't see the full picture.
"Why didn't you come to Whitecroft? Reveal yourself? Your people would have welcomed you with open arms. You're high queen."
She rolls her eyes. "Yes, that I am. High queen of Tenebris, a broken, poor kingdom that can't rival the northern fae, or hope to take any land to the west. Let's face it, the bright days of our history are in the past. No one would have remembered my name if things had gone on as they were supposed to. Now, I'm not saying my consort's betrayal was welcome, but it's certainly opened up some opportunities."
I can't be hearing this right. "You allied with the Vikus boy?"
She shrugs. "He wants to take on his father. I want to be right next to him when he does. And, well, if a sharp knife finds its way into his heart after the wedding, all the better."
"I see." I blink. "Where does this come into it?"
I gesture to the poor, broken girl on the bed.
Morgana smiles at me, batting her long lashes. On the floor, her snake slithers to circle her throne. I note her other familiars aren't here—away, or burned along with the decoy, I don't know.
"Well, he certainly can't marry me. I'm taken, remember? By my traitor of a husband. I suppose I could dispose of him and take Ceron myself, but I'm fond of Alven. I'll retrieve him, make him pay for his betrayal, and have him back at my knee, where he belongs. I've given Violet to Ceron, to bed and wed."
Ceron. That must be the Vikus's name.
I make my way to the bed and look at the girl. Her lips are chapped, her wrists and ankles raw. She must have fought against the bonds. Her wide eyes are red, as though she's long shed her last tear.
If someone had told me I'd pity Violet a few hours ago, I would have believed them mad.
I take her hand and heal her wounds, one after the other.
I am not one to show kindness. Not without a price. I feel like she’s already paid it in full.
"Oh, Nevlaria. Don't be foolish. She would never have done the same for you. This girl has wanted nothing but to destroy our entire family since the day she learned I cast her aside."
I let go of her hand. "Why did you? Cast her aside," I clarify.
Morgana grins. "I can't have too many wolves around me, now can I?"
I frown, not understanding her.
"It's easy to see from the very start. Who our children become. Some are meant to remain in the shadows. I like them most of all. Others have a strength of sorts. They're to be watched. Occasionally, a child is born with enough power to make me wary."
"Like a Void granddaughter," I glean.
"If it had been up to me, I would have sent you away, too. But as your mother had already left court, I thought you'd stay out of the way. My mistake." Morgana stands up.
She's dressed in a stunning black gown with a gold breastplate against her chest. On either side of her wide hips, she has a dagger with a silver hilt and an iron blade.
I've never seen her fight, not once. But I don't doubt for one moment that she knows how to make use of them.
"If you're after the continent, you could go with your Vikus, and leave Tenebris to us," I say, knowing exactly what she'll reply.
She isn't one to share power.
Morgana tilts her head. "And why would I give you what belongs to me?"
I close my eyes. There is only one way this ends. I lift my hands and start absorbing her power.
At least, I try.
She doesn't have any shield, any protection against my Void, and yet, I don't manage to.
She laughs at me, positively delighted.
Then, she draws one of her two swords in her left hand, and reaches out to me with the right.
And she sucks me.
The Void
Vlari
A Void. Morgana is also a Void. It makes no sense at all. If that was the case, surely people would have known it. And yet, I feel my life essence draining, drop after drop, and I scream. I don't know how to stop it. I've never had to.
The very thought that I’d caused such suffering to others, even my worst enemies, makes me feel sick. This is worse than any torture, worse than getting kicked and punched by Ceron.
Suddenly, I understand the women at her side. I understand why she kept so many familiars back in the Wicked Court. I even understand her fascination with Alven. She was sucking on them all, increasing her power by taking theirs, little by little.
Blinded by pain, weaker than ever, I try to lift my hands anyway, and suck her right back.
Morgana's blade is at my throat, pushing through.
"Oh, I don't think so, pretty thing. If you want me to allow you to live, you're going to do exactly what I say."
I spit on her.
Morgana draws her fist back and punches me. I fall back, out of breath, out of everything.
I retch, but there's nothing for me to vomit.
She pulls me by the hair, and drags me to Violet. "You know, I think I never taught you any lessons. It's past time I got involved in your education, don't you think, granddaughter? Firstly, d
on't waste your time on kindness. It's never worth it."
She throws me on the bed, next to her daughter. Pulling a set of golden keys out of her neckline, she unlocks Violet's wrist, and tosses her the key. "Be a good girl, and untie yourself. Then, you can bind your niece to the bed and get out of here."
Violet's eyes widen. She glances back at me.
"You would have done as a decent secondary prize, of course, but Ceron always wanted her." Morgana grins wickedly. "He has a taste for revenge that makes him positively unseelie."
"I'd rather die a thousand deaths than let that pig touch me."
"That could be arranged," Morgana says. "But you and I both know you're weak as a kitten. You'll lie there and take whatever your future husband wants to do to you."
I try to get to my feet, but Morgana blasts me again, and I fall backward, twisting in pain.
Violet's awkward and slow, but she unlocks each of her three remaining bonds. "I'm sorry," she tells me.
I don't have the strength to form a response. I don't have the strength to do anything. I let her bind my ankles. I let her take my sword out of my belt, and then, I let her bind my other wrist.
Morgana circles the bed. "See? This is the woman you wasted precious energy on. Not that you could have taken me on with it, but still. You'll remember this lesson, won't you, granddaughter?"
I only wish she were close enough that I could spit on her again.
All I can hope is that Drusk manages to overcome Ceron, somehow. But I've fought against him. He's too strong. I managed to get the best of him last time because I took him by surprise.
I close my eyes. There is no hope. There is nothing I can do.
I am Nevlaria, daughter of the Void. Always powerless against the true queen. She owned me from the very beginning.
I catch movement from the corner of my eye. A girl. One of the four. To my surprise, I recognize her. It's not the first time I’ve seen her naked, after all.
Rose.
The human girl Morgana took in exchange for Violet when she turned her daughter into a changeling. At her feet three other naked people sit. Two fae, and a human. I am shocked to recognize the lone male among them—Dekren. He’s lost so much weight I took him for a girl at first.