Hidden Crown

by Emma L. Adams

  “For what?”

  “Today,” he said, “I’ll see how you handle Summer magic.”

  I should have seen that one coming. While magic came easier to me here in the Court than it did in the mortal realm, he had an unfair advantage on me with both types of magic at his fingertips, and he knew it.

  We walked around the palace to a wide lawn of vibrant grass. Bright flowers bloomed in the flowerbeds, while thick hedges surrounded the lawn on all sides. My Gatekeeper’s magic did give me some degree of immunity to the overwhelming assault on the senses in the Summer Court, but everything was so much more intense here, from the verdant gleam of the grass to the perfumed scent of the flowers.

  I let the slightest stream of magic pour from my hands, and the grass grew an inch or two. “Will that do?”

  Darrow glanced at my handiwork. “I didn’t think you were capable of such subtle magic.”

  “Your compliments could use some fine-tuning.” I gave him an eye-roll. “I can be subtle when the occasion calls for it, but don’t forget the Sidhe have been known to declare war on one another over the wrong kind of elf wine.”

  Green light sprang to his palms. “Let’s check your shielding.”

  I barely raised my hands in time to deflect the blast of energy. A rippling shield pulsed in front of me, but I didn’t give it my all. “You know I have a natural shielding ability, don’t you?”

  It was part of the same vow that bound me to the Summer Court: no faerie magic could harm me. Not even his, though the gleam in his aquamarine eyes told me he was going to do his best to get around those restrictions.

  “Drop your shield, then.”

  He couldn’t seriously be saying he could circumvent my family’s protective magic, could he? Breaking my glamour was one thing, but the vow binding my family to Faerie was as solid as iron.

  I fed more magic into the glowing shield in my palms, then turned it into a frontal assault. Our attacks hit one another and fizzled out in a shower of sparks.

  A second Darrow entered my peripheral vision, and a sudden blast of magic smacked me in the face and sent me flying back onto the lawn. Bloody Darrow and his illusions.

  I lay there, winded, my mind reeling. “It’s that binding spell, isn’t it? You included some kind of small print that lets you hit me with magic without my shield getting in the way.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to train you if all my attacks bounced off you.”

  Like that bond he’d forced me into didn’t have enough downsides already. If he was the killer, I might be in a world of trouble. Granted, my shield only deflected offensive magic—not physical assaults, glamours, or sense-altering magic—but it was one fewer advantage at my disposal.

  I sat up. “And you just lectured me for not being subtle.”

  “Maybe,” he said, “but that’s the longest you’ve been quiet since you got here.”

  Was that supposed to be funny? Who even knew at this point. I pushed to my feet. “I’d be able to deflect your attacks if didn’t throw me off with decoys.”

  “It sounds like we ought to work on your skills at breaking glamours,” he said. “Have you been practising?”

  Well, no. Mostly because I had nobody to practise with who had skills on his level. Not that I’d tell him that. “Try to land a hit on me, then. I’ll see if I can break the decoy first.”

  Another Darrow appeared at my side. Then a third.

  “Are you sure?” said all three Darrows at once.

  “I said one decoy, not two.”

  “I don’t remember you specifying.” One of the clones blasted me with magical energy. I flung up a shield, but the attack winked out of existence before it touched me.

  A spark grew, and I threw myself onto the lawn as a bolt of magic whistled over my shoulder.

  “You’re supposed to be shielding, not diving onto the grass.”

  I flipped off one of the Darrows, hoping it was the real guy. “The only rule here is to survive by however means necessary.”

  “So be it.”

  Five more Darrows appeared. Oh, come on.

  Three attacks flew at me from different directions. I threw a shield around myself, scanning the Darrows for any clues about which was the real one. Even he couldn’t direct multiple clones without taking at least some of his attention off me, which meant he was more likely to be near the back, out of the line of fire.

  Three Darrows were on the back row, so I had a one in three chance of guessing right. He was directing the clones like a necromancer directed a swarm of zombies: his attention was split. If I timed this right…

  I reached out, feeling for the humming threads of magic keeping his illusion active. With a yank of my hand, one of the Darrows vanished. My other hand conjured a ball of green energy, directing it at the Darrow on the back right.

  The illusion vanished, and a bolt of green light hit me from the side. The clones must have switched places in the seconds it’d taken me to reach the back.

  “Dammit!” I sighed. “Almost got it.”

  “If that were a Trial, you’d have won,” he said. “Few others in the Court can manipulate multiple illusions. It’s a rare skill.”

  Like shooting a bow and arrow across the Erlking’s clearing? Without the effects of an excessive amount of elf wine, I managed to refrain from asking that question. “Shouldn’t you be testing me on skills the other Sidhe would use against me?”

  He tilted his head. “All right. You head into that maze—” He pointed to the hedges bordering the lawn—“and I’ll try to hit you with magic from behind. I’ll give you a head start. If you make it to the forest on the other side, you win.”

  I’d walked headfirst into that one. “Fine.”

  “Also,” he added, “you’re not to use your own magic to make the hedges grow. I’ll know if you do.”

  “If you insist.” How could he possibly tell? That was a question for another day, because I wouldn’t let him beat me twice in a row.

  I stepped into the hedge maze. The floor was littered with leaves but not the sort that crunched when you trod on them. Birdsong sounded above, while rustling noises came from the hedges. The smell of fresh earth drifted from the forest ahead. Darrow would expect me to go charging straight through the maze, so I veered to the side, behind a taller section of hedge. If I deliberately went in the wrong direction, he’d be less likely to assume I was nearby.

  The faint scent of oak and ash tickled my nostrils. Close—and too close to be part of the forest.

  Darrow. He must have guessed my plan. He’d said he’d know if I used magic… and now I understood how that was possible. The Sidhe possessed heightened senses, including the ability to sense magic itself. While I didn’t have a Sidhe’s enhanced sense of smell, Darrow’s scent of Summer and Winter magic was unique enough even for my human senses to pick up on.

  I veered away from the scent and headed in the opposite direction, towards the branches of a drooping willow tree marking the end of the maze.

  The sting of magic brushed past my shoulder, sending a branch thumping down in front of me. I broke into a sprint, and the second blast of magic hit me square in the back, sending me stumbling.

  Darrow stepped out behind me. “Good effort. You almost made it.”

  I poked the ground with my foot. “I was out of the maze when you hit me.”

  “So you were.” His brow furrowed. “How did you know to change directions back then? I didn’t make a sound.”

  “I have my ways.” Catch me letting on that I’d sniffed him out. Okay, he’d planned to catch me in the same way, but it was easier to sniff out a human than another faerie… unless they were half Winter and half Summer. “I should get to hit you at some point, you know. It’s only fair.”

  “Then we’ll try that next.”

  My plan didn’t quite work out. While my Gatekeeper’s power would never hold a candle to a Sidhe’s talisman, Darrow was just plain impossible to hit. He moved too fast, conjuring illusions a
s easily as flicking a switch, and saw no issue with striking me while my back was turned.

  In the brief seconds between assaults, I pondered how he’d honed his talent. Aside from their talismans, Sidhe often possessed abilities such as shapeshifting, healing powers, and communicating with animals. Glamour was second nature to all of them, but his unique level of skill must have come from a master’s coaching.

  Not that I had much time to dwell on it. My body was one giant bruise by the time he called the lesson to an end and let me head to the stream on the east side of the garden to wash the sweat from my face and quench my thirst. One point in Faerie’s favour was that the water was clean and pure, free of pollutants. Shaking water droplets off my circlet, I looked up and saw that two Sidhe had entered the garden. Lady Aiten and her dark-haired companion, Lord Pointy Spear. The male Sidhe looked bored, while Lady Aiten’s smile when she saw me was as false as the glamour on her curled hair and glowing features.

  “Gatekeeper.” Lady Aiten’s gaze lingered on my damp hair. “Is Lord Kerien here?”

  “No,” I said. “Any reason?”

  Might she be one of the Erlking’s trusted advisors, too? I doubted it, given how swiftly she’d come to accuse my family, yet her involvement in the investigation implied she’d been in on at least some of his secrets.

  “That’s no concern of yours, mortal,” she said.

  I arched a brow. “All right. I was looking for him, too. If you see him, can you let me know?”

  Understanding flared in her gaze, and a scowl marred her pretty features. Aha. So she does know. I half-expected her to level another accusation at me, but Darrow stepped in. “Lady Aiten, is there something I can help you with?”

  “I’m looking for Lord Kerien,” she said. “So, apparently, is the Gatekeeper.”

  Thanks a bunch. “He’s not here.”

  “I’m aware.” She beckoned to her companion. “Come, Lord Veren.”

  The two of them walked away. Darrow, meanwhile, turned to me. “Why were you hoping to speak with him?”

  “I wanted to know who moved the gate over here,” I said. “I assumed he did, since he owns the palace, but I’d prefer my family not to have any more unexpected visits from the Sidhe.”

  Did Darrow suspect what we’d really been doing yesterday? Perhaps he did, but he couldn’t possibly know I’d removed evidence from the crime scene. Besides, it was none of his damn business.

  “Really,” he said. “And why did you meet yesterday, precisely?”

  What’s it to you? “Secret Gatekeeper matters.”

  “Like this?” He held up the Erlking’s note. I’d put it back in my pocket when I’d been at home, and it must have fallen out during our training session. Shit, shit, shit.

  11

  Darrow held the note inches from my fingers, his gaze roving over the page. “This parchment has the Erlking’s official seal on it. Where did you get this?”

  There was no point in lying. He clearly thought I’d stolen it, and if he reported me to the Sidhe, I could say goodbye to any more clandestine visits to the Erlking’s territory.

  “He sent it to me,” I told him. “His sprite visited me after his death.”

  “This would have cleared your name,” he said. “Why not tell the Sidhe?”

  “I don’t trust them.” I raised my chin. “I think the killer is still among them, and clearly, so did the Erlking.”

  But is it you? His expression betrayed nothing, his gaze skimming the note. “One who breathes…”

  “I can’t make any sense of it,” I added. “Unless you have an idea about who he’s referring to?”

  “No.” He handed me the note back. “I’d advise you not to leave that lying around again.”

  “I didn’t intend to.” For all I knew, he’d sneaked it out of my pocket himself when my attention had been occupied with his clones. I wouldn’t put anything past him, after the number of underhanded stunts he’d pulled during today’s training. “Only two living people in this realm know about that note, and we’re both standing right here.”

  “Why you?” he said. “Why would he pick a human?”

  “Beats me.” I folded the note and stuck it deep in my pocket.

  “You must have some idea.” He wasn’t going to let this drop, damn him. “Is that why you met with Lord Kerien? The two of you went to the Erlking’s territory, didn’t you?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss confidential matters.”

  “You aren’t vow-bound, are you?” he said. “You can speak freely.”

  “Not everything has to be a vow.”

  “Perhaps not to you,” he said, “but we take our promises seriously.”

  And just what was that supposed to mean? “I didn’t promise to do anything except see to it that my family and I aren’t arrested again. That’s all I want. May I leave now?”

  “No,” he said. “You have another task waiting for you at the Gatekeeper’s base.”

  Great.

  Even the sight of Coral waiting for me inside the Gatekeeper’s training base didn’t cheer me up. After Darrow’s sleight-of-hand, I wasn’t in the mood for any more duplicity.

  Coral smiled at me. “You’re with me this afternoon. There’s food in the kitchen.”

  “Good. I’m starved.” I headed to my quarters and found a plate of food laid out on the table. “What’s on the agenda for this afternoon?”

  “Poisons,” she said. “Come and find me in fifteen minutes. I’ll be in the room three doors down on the right.”

  At least it’s not more glamour training. I needed a full bath in healing salve to get rid of all my bruises.

  I finished my meal and went to find Coral. She waited in a plainly furnished room containing a large oak table covered in corked bottles.

  “What’s this about?” I asked.

  “Your task is to identify the poisons. The non-poisoned bottles contain nothing harmful, so I’m supposed to order you to drink the ones you don’t believe are poisoned.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Sorry.” She took a seat at the table. “Not my idea. If it helps, we can talk shit about Darrow while you work. I noticed you’re limping again.”

  “I’m now well acquainted with the lawn at the ambassadors’ palace.” Spy or not, I didn’t enjoy being wary of my friends. It was one thing holding myself back from talking about the Erlking’s murder, but I wanted someone here I could just talk to. Being a spy didn’t mean she was an enemy. “You’re a spy, aren’t you? For the Sea Court.”

  Her eyes widened. “Please don’t tell Darrow.”

  “Why, would he kick you out?” I glanced down at the bottle in front of me and gave it a sniff. An acidic scent burned my nostrils. Definitely poison.

  She bit her lip. “It’s complicated. But trust me, the Sea Court is a fraction of the size of Summer, and our Queen wants nothing to do with the Seelie or Unseelie Courts whatsoever. I’m not a warrior. I’m just here to make sure the tension in Summer doesn’t lead to war in my own kingdom.”

  She didn’t sound like she was lying. The Sea Court was hardly big enough to pose a threat to Summer, and the sea fae’s freedom hinged on the people in charge of the main Courts allowing them to maintain independence. That made it unlikely that the Sea Queen had engineered the Erlking’s death, at least, since the new monarch might well decide to conquer the lesser Courts or absorb them into Summer itself. If I belonged to an independent Court, I’d want to keep an eye on the major players, too.

  I sniffed at another bottle and moved it to the ‘safe’ pile. “All right. I just wondered. You know how it is.”

  “I do,” she said. “Anyway… please don’t think badly of me for it.”

  “I don’t.” Next bottle—poison. “It just took me by surprise that the Sidhe let you work for them. They only started letting half-faeries who were the children of major nobles into the Courts a year or two ago.”

  “True,” she said. “My Queen has had spies here for y
ears, as have the other independent Courts. I expect there’ll be more coming to keep an eye on who is chosen as the new monarch.”

  The image of the family tree on our living room table entered my mind’s eye. Mum hadn’t even spoken to the Sidhe since she’d been cleared of murdering the Erlking, so the family tree couldn’t be anything more than a way of reassuring herself that the situation was fixable.

  “At this point, it’s anyone’s guess,” I said. “Half the Court might claim they’re distantly descended from the Erlking. Besides, he might have chosen an heir himself and left that information somewhere nobody has checked yet.”

  Unless the killer had taken the evidence along with the crown and the staff. Did Lord Kerien consider that?

  “We have a simpler system in the Sea Court,” said Coral. “The laws of succession follow through the royal selkie family. Back when the merpeople ruled over our territory, it used to be determined via trial by combat, but that’s probably why they ended up halfway to extinction.”

  “You aren’t wrong.” The Sidhe could afford to have a cavalier attitude towards bodily harm—at least back when immortality had been taken for granted, anyway—but half-fae had never had that luxury. “I heard they do something similar in Winter. Duel for the crown. I suppose it does force the Sidhe to accept the result, if it’s done using a binding contract.”

  Not that any duel involving the Erlking’s talisman would in any way be a fair contest. Being able to disintegrate one’s opponent at a touch wasn’t exactly good sportsmanship.

  “It’s easier for us,” said Coral. “Most of the Sea Court’s population is half-blood or quarter-blood, so we have shorter lifespans than the Sidhe. If we hadn’t interbred with humans, we’d have died out.”

  I looked up from the bottles. “Is that why you grew up with humans?”

  “It is,” she said. “When I came of age, I was invited to the Sea Court like an equal. It was a bit of a shock to come here and see how they treated half-faeries in Summer and Winter.”

  “I bet.” I moved my current bottle to ‘extremely poisonous’. “Dealing with change is not their forte. I kind of feel bad for the next monarch.”