Dethroned_An Inimical Prequel Novella
Page 12
With as much dignity as he can muster, he pushes himself to his feet, stepping back into the ranks of his Ebon Knights. They surround him the way faithful dogs protect a master who’s kicked them.
“There will always be a king in UnderHollow.” Father warns as he moves with his bodyguards toward the exit. “Dark Faerie demands it!”
“No, Father. It’s time we were both dethroned.”
“We will see about that, my daughter.” His threat hangs for a moment, and then he’s gone.
The tension bleeds out of the air. I blow out a breath. I guess it was too much to hope for a happy reunion, but at least my father’s alive and no longer controlled by his dark self.
He’ll heal, and then maybe, we can, too.
“Roue!” Syl hurtles into me, nearly knocking me down.
I wrap my arms around her. “Princess.” And then I feel all the blood, I smell the coppery tang. My poor Syl! How could I forget? “You need help!”
And then it hits me. The cure! The blood of the blade’s owner. We don’t have it.
Syl’s going to die.
“Really…I’m fine,” she insists. But her eyes are closing. She’s losing so much blood. The vorpal wound isn’t healed. Like a fool, I didn’t even get my father’s blood! I ease her to the ground, panic rabbiting in my heart.
Just as I whirl toward the archway, ready to chase my father down, even to the very pits of the frozen hells, a soft touch on my shoulder stops me.
“Let me.” Etana is there. She wraps her hand around mine on the vorpal blade. “There is another cure. Here.” She touches the blade to the wound in Syl’s side.
Syl bucks on the floor, and her face twists in pain. “Roue!”
My heart breaks. “It’s hurting her!” But as I watch, the tiny icicles pull out of the vorpal wound one by one, flying back to the blade, melding with it until every last one is gone.
“Stand back!” Etana moves away as the vorpal blade begins to glow and shiver. She turns her head, we all shield our eyes as the blade’s glow brightens and brightens until…
Kssshhhhhhh!!! The blade shatters into glittering fragments, melting as they hit the floor.
“Syl…Syl!” I cradle her in my arms, hoping against hope.
Slowly, slowly, Syl’s fair Fae healing kicks in, and the wound seals over. Now that she’s not actively bleeding, she’ll be all right. Fae can’t die from blood loss. She’ll be weak as hell, but she’ll recover.
She opens her eyes. “Hi.”
My heart soars. I was so close to losing her forever. “Hi, yourself, princess.” I wrap her up in my arms and hold her close, squeezing my eyes tight against the sudden burn of tears on my eyelashes.
“I wanna hug!” Marrow pipes up.
The other kids chime in, clambering over one another to get to us.
“Me, too!”
“And me!”
“Don’t forget me!”
The kids all pile into the hug, Miz and Marrow, Einslie and Kshirin, and Syl laughs, asking each one their name, making a fuss over every answer. In seconds, they’re tugging at her red curls and asking to touch her freckles. They love her.
I love her. And it’s time I took care of her, too.
“We’ll take care of things here,” Etana says, picking up on my eagerness to get my girl to safety.
With a nod at Vanya and Etana, I help Syl to her feet. “It’s time to go home, princess.”
“Home,” Syl says, her eyes shining.
She takes my hand, and we leave the Dark Faerie realm behind.
Together.
Epilogue
Syl & Rouen
“Mom?” The second Roue and I snickle-step back into my bedroom, I’m off like a shot. We’ve been gone at least three days. We’ve missed the rest of winter break, and who knows? Maybe even a day or two of school.
Time works weird in Dark Faerie.
Not to mention, Mom’s probably sent out the SWAT team by now.
Roue following, I speed to the kitchen. It’s nearing dinnertime, so that seems to be the place to look for—
“Mom!”
The second I see her standing in the kitchen, everything comes back rushing to me—being captured, strapped down, experimented on, exsanguinated, nearly killed on the Adamant Throne. Tears well up in my eyes; my vision blurs.
“Mom!” I race to her, and she wraps me in a comforting embrace.
“Syl! Syl, I was so worried.” She pushes me back to arm’s length and looks me over, completely freaked. “Are you hurt?”
“No, Mom, I’m fine.” I take a good look at her. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and it looks like she’s been crying. There’s a half-eaten bowl of Captain Crunch on the table and newspapers everywhere. “What about you? What’s wrong?”
She looks at me like I’ve got ten heads. “Syl. You were gone for four months.”
“Four” —I glance at Roue, who looks shell-shocked— “months?”
Roue goes to the open window and looks out. I follow her gaze. The sun’s just setting, turning the horizon a brilliant burning orange and purple, birds are singing, new buds fan out across the few trees in the dilapidated parking lot behind the tenement.
It’s Spring.
We really did lose four months in Dark Faerie.
“I’m sorry, princess.” Roue’s remorse bleeds down the bond. She looks down, sheepish and guilty.
Keeping hold of one of Mom’s hands, I drag her over to Roue. “It’s okay.” I take one of Roue’s hands and draw them both into a group hug. To her credit, Roue only squirms a little.
I squeeze them both so tight, I might never let go. “As long as I’ve got my family, I’m good.”
Normally, as a dark Fae, I’m allergic to group hugs, but this time, my grumbling is for show. Because if I’ve learned one thing about my recent clashes with my father—the first when I sided with the sleeper-princesses all the way up to today when I nearly battled him for the Throne—it’s that family is something you choose.
And I choose this one, a family Syl and I have built.
She squeezes me tight, and I feel all her love down our soul-bond. “I love you, Rouen Rivoche.”
“I love you, Syl Skye.”
Some bonds are sacred. Like the one between father and daughter. But the bonds you choose? The people you tie yourself to willingly?
Those are the bonds you never break.
“Even if it means never being queen of the dark Fae?” she ventures carefully.
I meet her summer storm-grey eyes and nod solemnly. “Even that.”
And though, deep down, I have a sneaking suspicion Dark Faerie’s not done with me yet, I mean it.
With all my black heart.
The End
Syl and Rouen’s adventure continues in INIMICAL, Book 3 of the Circuit Fae
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Raised by witches and dragons in the northern wilds, Genevieve Iseult Eldredge (GIE) writes angsty urban fantasy YA romance—where girls who are mortal enemies kick butt, take names, and fall in love against all odds.
She enjoys long hikes in the woods (where better to find the fair folk?), believing in fairies (in fact, she’s clapping right now), dancing with dark elves (always wear your best shoes), being a self-rescuing princess (hello, black belt!), and writing diverse books about teenage girls finding love, romance, and their own inner power.
She might be planning high tea at the Fae Court right now.
GIE is multi-published and in her role
as an editor has helped hundreds of authors make their dream of being published a reality.
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