by Mila Young
I’m not sure how to react, but my thoughts are scrambling to make sense of it all. It would explain why she was cursed, why Ash Court wanted her dead, why the rumors and prophecies about her spread so fast in our realm. Were they all intended to make her a target the moment she returned home? All those tales about the curse were used to scare anyone from helping her get back to the Wandering Realm, when in fact the curse on the Shadow Court was because of the king's actions.
Fuck! She might be the heir to both thrones. A spell of dizziness overcomes me.
I swallow hard as I take everything in. “So if you take the thrones, you are set to inherit the courts from two of the biggest kingdoms in Wandering Realm. You will be the queen of both.”
“That's what I just said.”
“It only just sank in.” I lean against the wall to hold me up. This changes so many things.
“I want you to know I don't want the throne," she admits. "But I can't cope with Ahren being with someone else.”
“To be honest,” I tell her, “I doubt anyone truly wants that kind of responsibility. Being the king or queen comes with expectations, and it changes you.”
She blinks up at me, and I can tell she's trying to understand, but she won't until she takes the position. And as I picture her as queen—my queen—my breath catches in my throat. She will become the most powerful person in this realm when she claims the two thrones.
Fuck!
She doesn’t seem to notice my shock and keeps talking. “Also, stupid Jasion sees me as a threat. I heard him conspiring down in the dungeon with an older fae I've never seen before, about how they killed King Tibout and planned to target Ahren to do their bidding.”
“Wait! Back up! Jasion killed the king?” I snarl a bit too loud, my heart colliding into my rib cage. A primal growl rips through me—when I see him next, I'm tearing his head from his body with my bare hands. “That sonofabitch. That insignificant rodent has been playing Ahren all along.”
“There's more. When I was in the dungeon, I used a portal to escape but ended up in Ash Court. In the Queen's chamber. And that's how I found out she's my mother." She digs her hand down the front of her dress and pulls out a ribbon. She stretches it out, and on it is embroidered her name, Guen. "She gave me this—it's similar to the one that had been on my ankle as a child back on Earth.”
I rub my eyes as the truth settles in my mind. I’m still struggling with this news, and the implication is massive. “We need more evidence than just a ribbon.” Sure, she’s always had a bit of an otherworldly feel about her, and her power with the fairies is very uncommon, but the court will need more to prove she is the rightful heir.
“I know,” she whispers, as if it’s all too much for her too.
I draw her into my arms, a protective surge rising through me. I need to keep my little wolf safe from all the monsters who'd harm her.
“Will you help me?” she murmurs, staring up at me. “I need to claim the throne so I don't lose Ahren or any of you. I know how to get evidence to prove who I am… Well, sort of.”
“Of course I’ll help.” There is no other answer.
“Good, then we need to use one of the mages—not Jasion, obviously—to test my blood. My mother said they have a magic test they can perform that can reveal my true heritage.”
“I think that’s true.”
She holds onto my arm. "I have no other choice. We have to do this; it’s a risk I have to take.”
“I befriended one of the other mages years ago; he can help us. But I need to go stall the wedding or this is all in vain, so Deimos can take you to the mage,” I murmur, then turn to Michae. He’s my most loyal guard and has done everything in his power to protect my little wolf. “I saw Deimos riding his horse madly near the perimeter of the walls surrounding the castle. Go fetch him urgently.”
He taps his chest over his heart twice, bows his head forward, then rushes down the corridor and vanishes around a corner.
“How long before the wedding?” Guendolyn’s talking fast, panicking.
“Ahren should be already headed inside, but tradition has it that the new queen must delay her entrance. We don't have much time, but we need Deimos’ fast.” Even as I’m talking, my mind continues to reel with the news she’s dumped on me.
“Will the mages be at the wedding?” she asks, distracting me.
I shake my head. “The old king’s mages aren’t invited to attend.”
“Ouch, that’s harsh.” She’s shaking as she rubs her arms as if cold, and all I want is to wrap her in my arms, for us to talk through what she's just revealed. Her ruling both courts means unity between our kind, the end of war and bloodshed. Mother used to tell me tales about the times when only one kingdom ruled the whole realm, a time when the world lived in the greatest peace in history.
Guendolyn paces in the tight space.
Today's going to go down in history. What my little wolf intends to do will cause an uproar. I can’t help but be a little worried, though, because if she’s wrong, she will be seen as a traitor, which means a sentence of death I’m not sure even we can stop. But she believes this wholeheartedly, so I have no choice but to believe the same.
I keep glancing at her as she chews on her lower lips. Worry washes over her face, and it hurts to see her so distressed.
“We'll find a way to stop the marriage.”
She looks at me like a startled deer, but there's so much more behind those blue eyes. She's gone through such horrific ordeals, and for her to end up in the dungeon must have been terrifying. I tense each time I think about it, and it just drives me harder to destroy everything about Jasion.
“I don't want you to ever think I am doing this to gain power, because I'm not.”
“Little wolf.” I turn to face her, taking her hand to my lips to place a tender kiss on the back of it, not caring who sees. Nothing will be the same after today. “I don't doubt you for a moment. If that were the case, you would have tried to claim the throne as soon as the king died. Not to mention,” I force a cough, “we might not be here right now, as you'd be in there marrying Ahren.”
Her expression falls, and she draws her lower lip into her mouth again. “I didn't know the fae rules. I just assumed Ahren would take the throne, not that he had to marry as well. No one told me that part.”
I swallow hard, wondering how different things would have turned out if we’d all been open with one another from the start. “You're right. We should have told you right away what was going on. We’ve all kept things from each other, but that ends here and now. And I also want to know why I can’t reach you in your mind anymore?” As I say the words, my energy stretches out to her mind, like I always do when I talk to her, but there’s nothing there. It’s like I’m lost in a black hole.
“I don’t know.” She brushes hair out of her eyes and winces.
I catch dried blood on the side of her knuckles. “Show me your hand.”
She lowers her hand and looks at her palm. The flesh looks dirty, with dried blood crusted across it.
“What happened?”
“I accidentally smashed the ruby, and shards went into my skin. I think some were still in there when my mother healed the cuts. Ever since the stone broke, I’ve felt different inside. Could that be why I can’t hear your voice anymore in my mind?”
Maybe? I shrug, because I don’t have an answer. This is all so new to all of us. She presses herself against me. She's so small and fragile, and I just want to keep her safe. Except she's a lot stronger than she appears—a lot more than any of us knew, apparently.
“You need to know something. The way I found you on Earth was by using magic… a spell that was initially meant to help me track down my fated mate.”
“Fated mate?”
“Yes, we are meant to be together. And I’m convinced it’s the same between you and my brothers. Our destinies are intertwined.”
She smiles like the admittance is something that brings her joy not surprise. �
��So, does that mean all three of you, in a perfect world, would be happy to be with me at the same time?” She chews on her lower lip.
“Yes. It’s not unheard of in our realm.”
Her smile widens and I adore the gleam of excitement in her gaze.
Loud footfalls grab my attention. Deimos marches over to us, arms swinging by his sides, the panic on his face sliding away as he gets closer to us. Michae follows soon after.
“Deimos!” Guendolyn pulls away and runs to him. They collide, and he embraces her, lifting her off her feet. They kiss, and I smile to see the happiness we inspire in her, and what she's brought out in us.
They fall into a deep conversation, Deimos’ face twisting with anger. And by the look of my brother's dropped mouth and the way he freezes on the spot, he's learning about who exactly our little angel is. Must be precisely how I looked when she told me.
“Deimos,” I call out, and he twists his head in my direction as I march up to them. “Now that you’re caught up, we have to move fast. Take Guendolyn to visit Ramond in the basement and get the blood test done. I have a wedding and coronation to stall for as long as I possibly can without getting tossed into a dungeon myself. Then come to the great hall, fast.” My words are rambling, as panic now spins in my chest.
“Why don’t you go to your mage friend, and I’ll do the distraction,” Deimos offers.
“Because the moment Ahren sees you acting up, he’ll kick you out. He won’t expect it from me. Now go!”
"Thank you," Guendolyn says.
Deimos gives me a begrudging nod, and I see the questions burning in his gaze. But like me, he knows we don't have the luxury of time if we intend to help Guendolyn.
“Good luck, Luther,” he says, and I huff a laugh because if anyone needs luck, it's him and Guendolyn. They’re the ones who have to get the evidence to stop the wedding.
I take off and call Michae with me, proclaiming, “Let's go and get into a lot of trouble.”
Chapter 17
Guendolyn
“No matter who you are, you are still my Guendolyn,” Deimos states, his fingers squeezing around my hand lightly. That has to be the sweetest thing he’s ever said, loving me for who and what I am.
Deimos and I walk hastily through the palace, which is terrifyingly quiet. Only a small handful of guards are here and there.
“You know just the right things to say to make me smile,” I answer. “But all this stuff is happening so quickly that I don’t have time to really think of the implications. Right now, I’m going on pure instinct, and my priority is to not lose the three fae I want in my life forever.”
My thoughts keep swinging back to Luther and Michae having to stall the wedding. My nerves are tight, worried that they are too late.
Deimos half laughs, drawing me out of my thoughts. He always has that effect on me. I will never get sick of hearing that beautiful sound, either. It always lifts my spirit. “Stuff like you being a queen of two kingdoms? Do you know how unheard of that is? Some would say it’s impossible.”
I shrug as he hurries me down a set of grand marble stairs. Paintings adorn the walls, depicting numerous royal fae in elaborate clothing, in stiff poses that are obviously staged. They are royalty, while I’m… I feel like the lost girl. How can this be my future when I have so much to learn about this realm? Honestly, I didn’t even know Ahren had to marry to claim his throne, and that’s just one tiny detail of fae culture. So how am I supposed to rule a kingdom?
“There will be portraits of you, too, before long,” Deimos tells me, noticing me staring at the past kings and queens of Shadow Court. “You will be stunning.”
“Do you think anyone will accept me as their queen? I didn’t grow up here.” My voice cracks with uncertainty.
Deimos stops in front of me and takes my hands. “They will love you because you will be the Queen of Ash and Shadows.”
I eye him. “Is that a real thing?”
He chuckles to himself and drags me back into a fast walk down the rest of the steps. “Just made it up, but I like the sound of it.” The smirk he offers is hypnotic. At the bottom of the stairs, he says, “After all of this is done, you and I are spending some serious time together. Just like you and Luther did. Just want to make sure you are aware of that.”
He’s referring to Luther’s proposal to me… I can tell by the way he glances down to the ring on my finger, and despite the mess we’re in, he keeps making me smile. “I sure hope so.”
“Good.” The next thing I know, we’re rushing along a darkened corridor that gives me the creeps. Before I can ask any questions, we stop outside an arched doorway, and he bangs his fist on the wood.
The door opens, and we’re greeted by a mage I’m not familiar with—then again, I’ve tried to not pay them too much attention. Like the rest, he’s dressed in the usual mage garb, his white hair short and less wild compared to the others. He looks to be in his thirties, his skin tanned like he spends too much time outdoors.
“Your Highness.” He bows his head but keeps his eyes on me.
Deimos steps forward. “Ramond, remember that favor you owe me? I’m calling it in.”
His face blanches, and he pauses for a few moments before responding. “Shouldn’t you be at the wedding?”
“Can you help me or not?” Deimos persists.
The mage stiffens in response. “Of course, Your Highness.”
I look past him and into his room, which contains just a simple, small bed, a bedside table, and a wardrobe, with no window. Just candles. This place is depressing, and it almost feels like the mages are put here to be out of sight from others who might fear them.
“Thought so,” Deimos answers. “We need to go to your ritual room.”
Ramond’s brow furrows into dozens of lines in confusion.
“Can you determine someone’s heritage through magic?” my prince asks.
The mage stares at me, studying me. Does he recognize me as the princes’ healer, like most in the court? I can’t help but wonder if he hates me as much as Jasion does.
“I need blood samples, one from the fae being tested and one from the bloodline in question.”
His response leaves me frozen on the spot, and Deimos looks at me for a moment, his lips pinched. My mother hadn’t said anything about needing a sample from the original bloodline. Then again, she rushed me out of Ash Court fast.
“It’s my blood we need to test against King Tibout’s,” I admit, my insides jittery with worry that they won’t have any samples of the king’s blood. If he just died, maybe there’s a possibility of still getting some from him? The thought turns my stomach, but a wave of desperation constricts around me. “Please, we don’t have time.”
The mage’s eyes narrow. “What’s this really about?”
“Listen, Ramond. I heard a rumor that you keep samples of dead royalty blood.”
I glance over to Deimos, unsure if he’s making this up or it’s a fact. And if the latter, why?
“Who have you been speaking to?” His eyes half hood, shadows darkening around him.
“Jasion,” Deimos spits.
“Curse him to the Seven Hells,” Ramond snarls.
Interesting to see that even the other mages hate Jasion that much.
“Get what you need; we’re doing this now,” Deimos growls. “I don’t care why you have the blood, just fucking take us to it.”
Ramond nods. “Your Highness, it’s to keep track of bloodlines through history. It helps us trace which lines are the closest aligned to the fairy queen and those of the first fae.”
“I don’t give a fucking shit!” Deimos snaps, then unleashes a deep exhale. “Get your ass moving!”
Ramond nods, panicked, then hastily emerges from his room and into the hallway.
“This way,” he instructs.
Deimos collects my hand, and we’re practically running to keep up with the mage, who takes turn after turn down halls where darkness seems to breed. As many question
s as I have, I keep quiet, because everything seems to echo here.
The walls are dark stone, and unlike upstairs, there are no paintings. It’s depressing here, but the air also feels charged, the hairs on my arms lifting.
At the end of a long corridor, Ramond stops and fiddles with a bunch of metal keys dangling from the chain around his waist, then unlocks a door.
We step into the room, my curiosity piqued by what’s inside. Black walls, mostly covered in shelves and shelves of jars filled with powders and liquids in all kinds of colors. Down the middle runs a long table that isn’t too different from science labs back home. It smells musty in here, like no one has ever let in any fresh air, ever. The one large window against the back wall is covered by material that has long ago faded to a yellow color, while cobwebs fill the ceiling corners.
Ramond is in the back corner opening a dusty-looking, vintage cabinet. He huffs while jars clang about as he looks for the right blood, I’m guessing.
Deimos’ hand squeezes mine lightly, drawing my attention to him. He blows me an air kiss, and I lean against his side. How did I get so lucky to have these princes fall for me? Everything I do now is to hold onto them.
“Found it,” Ramond calls out and sets a black vial on the counter, then sweeps back around and heads to the wall covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves. Two seconds later, the whole wall swings open to reveal a hidden compartment.
My mouth drops open, and I peer inside, but only darkness looks back. Ramond vanishes inside.
“Did you know that secret room existed?”
“Of course.” Deimos releases his hold of my hand and marches over to investigate. He clearly had no clue.
Just as he pokes his head in, Ramond reappears and Deimos retreats. The mage is carrying a birdcage large enough to hold a parrot, except he’s got a fairy trapped.
My stomach constricts, and I step closer to study the creature fluttering around crazily, trying to escape. It doesn’t look well. Its wings are forest green, but the skin on its face and body are sickly pale and streaked with cherry-red veins.