by C. S. Wilde
He was back.
Bast’s wounds hurt, but not nearly as much as the pain of losing another brother.
“I’m sorry, Bast,” Leon wheezed. “Don’t remember me this way...” Turning to Corvus, he took his hand. “You’ll be a great king. Father was right.”
“I don’t want the stupid crown, you baku,” Corvus sniffed.
“But it is yours, and I’m thankful for that.”
Clearing the tears from his voice, Bast caressed Leon’s cheek with his good hand. “Ben is alive.”
A relieved smile cut through his lips. “Tell him I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself… I… I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. His gaze suddenly locked on the moon, surprise filling his features. “Theo?”
Leon exhaled deeply, but didn’t inhale again.
Bast and Corvus kneeled there, motionless. Shock and sorrow coursed through Bast’s veins, and a sob escaped his lips as he closed Leon’s eyes.
His focus drifted to the crown resting atop the dead king’s head. It was splattered with blood, either his own or Leon’s—Bast couldn’t tell, nightblood looked all the same.
Leon wanted the crown to prove their father wrong. He wanted it so badly that his need triggered the madness, a story too familiar throughout the Night Court’s history.
That damned, fucking crown… always that damned, fucking crown.
Removing it from Leon’s head with his right hand, Bast stared at Corvus. His brother nodded in approval.
Bast’s teeth grinded as he forced himself up, his bones feeling like they’d turned into broken glass. His left arm hung limply beside him, and he faintly remarked the pain, but it was nothing.
Nothing compared to what he felt right now.
He faced the broken stone arches that showed the vast ocean below, the moon shining atop the dark surface that stretched into the horizon. Perhaps, Leon and Theo were there now. Together, beyond the silvery path of the moon, deep into Danu’s realms.
Bast didn’t believe in the after-life, but the idea his brothers went on, somehow brought him peace.
“Until we meet again,” he muttered.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, then flung the crown into the raging waters.
Chapter 29
Black and silver bands hung across the palace’s halls and corridors. Up in the throne room, the combination draped from the domed ceiling, and it hung in curtains next to the open arches circling the space.
Black and silver; night and stars.
Night for Leon’s funeral, stars for Corvus’ coronation, since both would happen on the same day.
Mera glanced down at the silvery top of her dress, then checked her dark skirt. Night and stars, the honoring of both brothers. Most Sidhe who crowded the throne room dressed with the same colors.
The sky today was brutally blue, not a cloud in sight. Sunlight ventured through the arches, glittering against the silver ribbons.
A beautiful summer day that didn’t fit the severity of the events.
Mera found Seraphina Dhay sitting near Benedict, who still recovered from his wounds in a wheelchair.
The healer had said Leon’s blade missed Ben’s heart by an inch. A killing blow, granted, but one that hadn’t ended him immediately. Not like the wound which killed Theo.
Mera believed Leon had done it on purpose, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but she didn’t care.
Seraphina’s eyes were red and puffed, yet she sat straight and proud, like the queen she was.
Approaching, Mera bowed to her, and then Ben.
“The song of demise caught up to Leon,” the Night Queen stated to the open air, barely registering Mera’s presence. “Nightblood sings to us all, day in and day out.”
Offering Mera an apologizing glance, Benedict leaned closer, taking his mother’s hand. “We resist its call, Mom.”
“Until the day we grow tired, like your brother.”
Swallowing dry, Mera searched for Bast, aching to check on him. If he ever grew tired, she would be there to help him find his way back.
Always.
“Bast is with Corvus,” Benedict explained, noticing the worry in her gaze.
Suddenly, trumpets blasted around them, startling both Mera and Seraphina.
The crowd turned to the dais at the far end of the room.
A fae wearing an elegant black suit embellished with silver twirls stepped up to the throne, his manner regal and filled with deference. If it weren’t for the wickedness in his yellow eyes, she wouldn’t have recognized Corvus.
Bast followed after him, carrying a red pillow with the new crown⸺a simple white gold circlet.
The healers in Lunor Insul lacked Stella’s skill, but they’d fixed Bast’s arm and his other wounds in time for the coronation. Mera shuddered at the memory of him screaming as the healers snapped his bone in place, then welded it together with their magic.
‘He’s fine now,’ her siren assured. ‘More than fine, actually. Yum!’
That fucking horny bastard.
She wasn’t wrong, though. Her partner wore a shirt the color of the moon underneath an onyx suit that fit him all too well. His loose hair waved over the left side of his face, which was the style he chose for formal occasions.
Bast looked perfect, but even when he wore his messy man-bun he was still a thing to behold.
Technically, an event such as a coronation shouldn’t be tainted by the sorrow of a brother’s burial, at least according to the court’s advisors. Yet, Corvus had been adamant on having both on the same day.
“So I never forget how I got here,” he’d explained pointedly. “So that he will always remain a part of it…”
The advisors disagreed, of course. They claimed Leon should be buried in shame; that he was a traitor to country and fellow faeries. Thankfully, Corvus wouldn’t listen, and neither would Bast. He fully backed up his brother’s choice, perhaps for the first time in his life.
“While we’re on it,” the future king added, “I fully reinstate my brother as Night Prince. Sebastian Dhay is disowned no more.”
His advisors’ glares were priceless. Two of them even resigned.
Yeah, Corvus might be an asshole, but he was starting to grow on Mera.
Silence fell upon the throne room as Corvus kneeled before Bast. This was it; the moment where he would gain the crown he never wanted.
“May you govern with Leon’s heart and Theo’s kindness.” Her partner’s deep voice echoed throughout the room. “Above all, may you govern with your strength, King of Night.”
Bast set the crown on Corvus’ head, and the throne room exploded in applause, followed by loud clamors of “Long live the king!”
* * *
Not long after, a procession of family and close friends quietly followed down the mountain, taking Leon’s body to the courtyard where he’d drawn his last breath.
Bast and Corvus carried the open casket alongside Master Raes, and some of his assassins. Benedict’s chair rolled beside his brothers, completely propelled by magic, while Mera followed not far behind with Seraphina Dhay, who had coiled her frail arm around hers.
“I had a nightmare once,” Seraphina muttered, her fingers digging onto Mera’s skin as she stared ahead mindlessly. “A wolf burst from inside my son, and killed everyone in Tagrad. Fae, witch, human, shifter or vampire; none escaped. Their bodies laid scattered across the land, their flesh ripped, their blood sipping into the ground… but that wasn’t enough for the wolf.”
Trembling, her fingers dug deeper into Mera’s arm. “Even when the entire world burned around him, it wasn’t enough.”
Swallowing dry, she patted Seraphina’s hand. “It was just a nightmare. Leon can’t hurt anyone now.”
The Night Queen frowned at her, as if she didn’t make any sense. “Leon wasn’t the wolf… Bast was.”
The drop of a drum. A slap to the face.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Mera assured, mostly to herself as prickly, icy dread swam down her spi
ne. Clearing her throat, she nodded decisively. “I won’t let nightblood take over him, I promise you.”
“You can’t save him, dear.” Seraphina focused on Leon’s casket, a whimper stuck in her throat. “No one can.”
The procession went on without a sound until they reached the courtyard, where a pyre had been set up.
Bast, Corvus, and Raes laid Leon’s body atop it, then stepped away. The former king held the royal sword to his chest, the same blade which had ended his life.
Leon had died brutally, and still, he seemed so peaceful.
Politely letting go of Mera, Seraphina went to the front, where Benedict sat on his chair, not far from Karthana and her father.
Corvus stood near the pyre, his manner stoic and grand as a guard handed him a torch.
“Hey, partner.” Bast’s voice startled Mera when he came up behind her.
“Hey.” She let out a relieved breath because he wasn’t a wolf, which didn’t make any sense, but she was relieved nonetheless. “You okay?”
“Not in the slightest.” Taking her hand, his fingers intertwined with hers. “I will be. Eventually.”
Would he?
“Ae wahnala wu tu, broer,” Corvus began ahead, facing the pyre. “I thank you, brother. I miss you, brother. The infinite night has called you. Danu in the prairies, receive him.”
“Danu in se campin, het im nut,” the Sidhe around them repeated. So did Bast, even if he wasn’t the religious type.
“May you rejoice in Danu’s prairies and feast on her blessings,” Corvus went on. “May the beloved you leave behind never forget you. Until the day we meet again.”
“Bis se tag we makta an.”
Slowly setting the torch into the pyre, Corvus watched the flames burst to life, soon swallowing Leon.
As fire crackled and his brother burned, Bast grasped Mera’s hand tighter, his focus trapped on the blazing pyre, his body quivering. Her hand hurt, yet she wouldn’t complain.
She wouldn’t let go.
The intense heat prickled Mera’s skin, but eventually, it waned.
Most fae slowly left for their homes, but the royal family, with Raes and Karthana, stayed there until Leon became a pile of ashes that blew into the wind.
Mera observed Corvus, hand in hand with Karthana as he watched his brother leave them. Not as lovers anymore, not as betrothed, but as friends.
It felt oddly right, somehow.
“Corvus looks well,” she noted. “I never thought I’d say this, but he might become a good king.”
“He tortured me my whole life, yet he saved me when I most needed him.” Bast quietly studied his brother. “Corvus loved Leon, and he stuck a blade into his chest… for me.”
“He made a choice.” Mera shrugged. “He chose you.”
“But did I deserve it?”
Corvus’ pointy ears twitched, and Mera wondered if he’d heard Bast. Gently letting go of Karthana, he approached them.
“Malachai,” the Night King addressed her partner. “I believe you owe me an apology.”
“What?”
“You accused me of Father’s murder during the enchanted wine incident.” Turning to Mera, Corvus put his palm on his chest in an apology that felt less than heartfelt. “You also promised to apologize; gave me your binding word, actually. You do remember that a broken promise can be quite painful, don’t you?”
Bast pushed Corvus’ chest playfully, but where his manner had been awry and mistrusting with him before, now it was soft. Kind.
Grateful.
“You could always lift the damn promise, King Dickwart.”
“What would be the fun in that? Also, dickwart?” He turned to Mera, amusement shining behind his golden irises. “Is that a thing humans say? It’s awfully graphic.”
She waved carelessly. “Certainly paints a picture, doesn’t it?”
With a chuckle, Bast tapped his shoulder. “Fine. I’m sorry, brother.”
“There you go. Wasn’t so hard, yes?” He winked at Bast, bowed at Mera, and then returned to Karthana’s side.
As she and Bast slowly descended the mountain, a severe silence filling the space, Mera figured some light talk might make him feel better. “So, how does our mind-link work?”
Gaping at her, he blinked slowly. “You don’t want me to remove it?”
“At first I did, but it came in handy back at the courtyard. I figured we should give it a try for a while.”
“Should we?” He gave her a soft smile. “Hmm, now that you mention it, our link does differ from the norm. Emotions flow through the bond, but thoughts are something else entirely, unless there’s permission. And still, I could hear what you did, and see blurred flashes of what was going on. Which is why we might need to work on your mind blocks.”
“Ah, so you’ll teach me how to protect my thoughts from your nosy self? How kind, Detective Dhay.”
Raising one eyebrow at her, the most wicked grin cut across his face. “I’m a giving fae, kitten.”
‘Damn right,’ her siren cheered.
A furious blush rose to Mera’s cheeks as she remembered that time at the precinct, and those skilled fingers of his, his blazing kisses…
Her siren purred.
Down girl!
They walked together for a while, until Bast led her to the base of the island, arriving into a deserted beach.
“You want to go for a spin?” He nodded to the lazy waves ahead. “No one would know. It’s the king’s private sanctuary, but Corvus never liked swimming.”
Had Bast brought her here because of their link? Because he sensed the need that slept inside her? The ache to break water again, the longing that was always there, ignored and shoved deep into the depths of Mera’s soul? Or perhaps, her partner simply understood her better than she’d assumed.
Hard to tell which.
Mera watched the opaque blue that turned turquoise where it met sunlight, yearning to dive in. Inhaling the familiar salty tang of home, she recalled how amazing it felt to dash into the waves.
Pure freedom, in every sense of the word.
Those memories, those sensations, they called for her right now. Taking off her high-heel sandals, she went ahead, feeling the fluffy sand underneath her feet. The waves had nearly reached the tip of her toes when Mera halted.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t give for a swim,” she admitted wistfully, not knowing exactly why she’d stopped. A strange sensation thumped in her chest, a sort of sixth sense that warned her of… something. Nonsense. She was probably scared of touching ocean water after so many years. “I’ll take the offer another day, partner.”
“As you wish.”
Stepping beside Mera, Bast stood with her for a while, watching the waves caressing the shore.
“So, what’s next?” she finally asked.
He nodded to the ocean. “That.”
Poseidon.
Someone using the alias had impregnated Sara Hyland, and basically glamoured the Summer King’s son into killing her. Someone who was a waterbreaker; someone who had survived the forbidden zone’s death spell.
Someone like Mera.
“We can’t go to our captains without concrete evidence,” she reminded him. Besides, Mera didn’t want to worry Ruth until they had a strong lead. “It’s going to be hard digging into this while we’re solving new cases, though.”
“Hard, yes. Impossible?” Bast took the back of her hand and kissed it. “I doubt it.”
Smiling, Mera brushed a strand of silver hair off his face, tucking it behind his ear. “I suppose we’ve done impossible things before.”
She shouldn’t be this close or intimate with Bast. It was a terrible idea, but after all they’d been through, just once, Mera wanted to forget what was right and let go. Kiss him, for maybe five seconds, without wondering about the consequences.
Stepping closer, Bast set a hand over her hip, a tantalizing grin on his soft lips. “Onto more pleasant matters, then…”
He b
ent down to kiss her, and Mera leaned forward, ready to take those five seconds, enjoy them as much as she could, when a glint in the far left caught her eye.
Sunlight shone against a shiny object at the base of a big rock.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he grumbled without even turning, his focus solely on her lips.
Yet, that instinct from before shrieked inside Mera, its warning bells reverberating through her bones. “Bast, something isn’t right.”
That snapped him out of it. Nodding, he turned to the rock and stepped closer. She followed after him, but when she spotted the object, she nearly fell back.
Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her.
She held Bast’s arm, stopping him from getting any closer to the water.
They weren’t alone.
“Is that…” His question died midway, because, yes.
Yes, it was. Right there, half buried in the sand.
Even with strong tides, that thing could have never reached the beach in such a short time.
Mera looked around frantically, scanning the ocean’s surface as she tried to catch a whiff of magic coming from below.
Nothing popped out, yet the sensation someone watched them lingered.
“Sea faeries gave the crown to the Night King millennia ago, so he’d keep it safe until the day of Regneerik.” Charles Grey’s voice rang in her mind as she arrived at the rock.
Bending down, a chill ran down her spine as Mera picked up the Crown of Land and Sea.
This was his doing.
Poseidon was out there, trying to throw her off; trying to scare her. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t feel him, but Mera had never been more certain of anything in her life.
Gnarling at the peaceful waters, she closed her fist.
“Let the games begin, asshole.”
Find out what happens next in TO KILL THE DEAD
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