by Sage, May
“Likewise.” Her laugh isn’t silly or childish or cruel like mine; it’s a lush, dark purr that promises another kind of naughty things. “You look quite magnificent out of the bathtub.”
“That would be considerably more flattering if your kind couldn’t lie.” She’s easy to speak to, and fun. I’m glad of the distraction her presence provides from the constant conflict with the queen, and with Drusk, too. “I don’t think I heard your name.”
I’m stunned to realize I’ve already finished my drink. I know better than to take another one right now.
The woman lifts her brow. “My true name?”
I blink in confusion. To my knowledge, humans only have one name at all.
Unless—
“You’re a changeling.”
She nods. “Indeed. I was brought here in exchange for the queen’s daughter.”
I’m flabbergasted. The queen’s? None of it makes sense. Morgana had a daughter, a young one?
“You don’t know?” The human takes my arm, and we start to walk about the room. “Forty years ago, they took me from my village, and brought me here. The queen’s blessed me with charms so that I don’t age.”
I can’t question her word; there’s no cause for her to lie, when finding out the truth would be too easy. And there’s no reason why I would have known—I don’t concern myself with the affairs of the court. If she’s been here for forty years, I don’t doubt her presence was quite scandalous at first, but time would have lessened the rumors.
“Then why…” I look about us, checking if anyone can overhear us.
Everyone can. No one is paying attention, though.
“Why were you at the market?”
I don’t spell it out—why was she selling herself at the market.
She laughs and counters, “Why were you?”
I don’t point out that only one of us was being sold.
“I like it there,” she tells me unabashedly. “I enjoy getting out of the keep, right under the noses of my guards. I enjoy doing wicked, terrible things Mother would disapprove of. And I certainly enjoy getting screwed for coins. It beats getting screwed for politics.”
“The queen—” I can’t finish my thought.
“Makes me bed whoever she wants for her advantage? Yes—hence why she gifted me youth, I think. Currently, the Frost boy. After I’ve given him a child, it’ll be someone else.”
I’m speechless, horrified. That’s far worse than any treatment of a human I can think of. I don’t ask if she’s already bred children with other lords. I don’t need to.
We’ve circled back to our corner of the banquet. To distract myself, I clear my throat and interrupt Drusk and Dekren’s tête-à-tête. “Is your littlest sister here?”
Dekren grimaces. “I’m not either of my sisters’ keeper, but I’ve never seen them miss a revel since youth. I’m sure they’re about. Probably deeper in the castle.”
I’m glad to have something to do—being here in this hall, full of laughter and music and dance, I don’t quite know what to do with myself. This isn’t my world.
“I’ll try to find them, if you don’t mind,” I tell Drusk. He’s my escort, after all.
“I’ll be here.”
I nod, and walk away.
The human stays by my side. “I still don’t know what to call you.”
We’re family of sorts—both stuck in the queen’s web. I should know her name.
“Lily. And you’re Nevlaria. My niece, it seems.”
Though I was almost twice her age, she was right.
“Vlari.”
She hooks her arm through mine, and I let her, walking down the length of the summer palace, past the great hall, to drafty yet warm open chambers.
Some are occupied by dancers swaying to the distant sounds of the horns, flutes, and strings from the great halls, others, by gamers around card tables. I glance inside and fail to find any familiar faces, but Lily greets dozens of people.
There’s no door barring entry, but as we go farther in the belly of the castle, I see lovers bent over chairs, taking each other wildly against walls—others flogging each other and screaming for more, naked in the moonlight.
I’m about to turn back, when I spot Sylph in a room filled with barely covered bodies, where everyone touches, tastes, and takes one another.
I wouldn’t have thought the proud Sylph likely to join in something debased and carnal like this, but I suppose everyone here is proud. Everyone here is a lord, or a queen. Maybe she was even told to engage in this gathering, like Lily.
Or she could simply like it.
It’s Samhain. The common folk let their wilder side free. Why would I have thought the gentry were any different? Anything they do, we do better.
“Do you mind if I take leave of you?” Lily asks me.
I turn to her, and see raw need and desire in her every feature.
I laugh. “Of course. Enjoy.”
I’ve never been affected by the seasons, the festivities. When I want release, it’s simply for the sake of it, rather than the will of nature.
Lily tears at the openings of her dress, eager to reveal her flesh.
I keep walking the hall, less awkward now that I’m alone. I don’t feel like a voyeur; they’re the ones displaying their pleasures.
Esea is in the last room, a smaller hall that leads right to the shores. In the distance, waves crash against limestone. She plays the harp while a gentry touches her breasts.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Hopefully,” the lord replies.
Esea grins. “Never. I heard the Sea Lands are coming tonight. They like an entrance—I figured I’d get the best view!”
I join them, sitting on a low bench.
The Sea Lands is an old court, older than any of ours; they were there before our kind came to Álfheimr, fleeing the devastations of our Isle, in the north. They’ve claimed a stretch of unseelie land in the south, and seelie land in the north. When they need to deal with us, they make us come to them. Their gracing us with their presence here seems unlikely, yet fascinating.
If Morgana manages a true alliance with the Sea Lands, she’ll be known for it throughout history.
I hope she doesn’t.
“And you are?” the gentry asks me pointedly, throwing rank in my face to assert his dominance.
“A princess who could have your hands cut off for speaking to her so,” Esea tells him. “Which would be a shame. You’re quite good at this.”
She’s toying with him with so much ease, I can only admire her.
The man takes it as an invitation to take his seduction one step further, and slides his hand under the cloth of her bustier. She moans in approval, but I doubt she’s that impressed. She doesn’t so much as miss one note.
My eyes go to the sea—fierce and magnificent. I don’t know how long I spend following the waves.
“There you are.” I blink and look up to Drusk.
Esea has stopped playing altogether; instead, I hear her panting. She’s spread her thighs and let the fae put his head between her legs. She must be fond of him; I know she doesn’t take many lovers—and that none of them have had the pleasure of entering her. Her uncle has forbidden her to waste her virginity until he finds her a husband, archaic fool that he is.
“Done with Dekren?” I ask.
He joins me on the bench. “He had news from the northern borders. More attacks. Not the sort of thing you’d want to be bored by at a party, I’m sure.”
I can’t tell if he’s condescending or thoughtful, but he’s right. I don’t care to hear about the northern borders. It’s the affair of the queen. Unless something concerns the Court of Mist, it’s not my problem.
“Esea said the Sea Lands were invited. I guess she was wrong.”
“Not necessarily. It’s early yet.”
It doesn’t feel early. I laugh. If half of the guests are already naked now, this revel is going to end in a veritable orgy.
&nbs
p; “Look!”
There is a light in the distance, right above the waves, bright and warm.
I glance back at Esea. She can’t miss this. “Mephesea, look! I think the Sea Lands are here!”
She focuses her gaze on the door while her lover keeps pleasing her. Her panting and moaning grow louder.
I laugh along with Drusk and return my gaze to the sea.
The waves part, rising higher than ever before, high enough to top the Shadow Peaks, and the shadow approaches. A castle, I realize. A castle riding the sea like a ship. The songs of sirens drown the silence of the night. I can only sigh. “I’ve never seen anything quite this beautiful.”
“I have.”
I turn to Drusk, curious, but he says nothing else. “Well?” I prompt.
His smirk is wicked and full of secrets. “Oh, I think not. You’ll have to use your favor if you want to know.”
“Never.”
Drusk gets to his feet, and extends his hand. “Come. We don’t want to miss the sea.”
Will of the Sea
The halls have different lovers, and singers, and players, and the revel is in full swing when we return. Lords and ladies smell of sweat, wine, and sex as they dance in circles or pairs to the sound of a mournful ballad.
We reach the great hall instants before the Sea Lands lords enter it.
At the fore are two women, one dressed in a tight translucent coral lace gown, the other in soft seaweed green, wearing richly embroidered breeches and coats—their two queens, mated a thousand years ago.
The one in lace has sea-blue hair cut short, the one in green, long gray-white curls, thick like seafoam. They both are stunning, willful, playful, and fierce.
Two men follow them, dressed in one or the other of their colors. Their consorts, who fathered the children trailing behind; five princes, seven princesses. Most are older than any one of us.
I’ve heard that their court is both seelie and unseelie. Watching them, I don’t doubt it. They seem cunning, calculating, cruel—the best and worst of the folk.
My grandmother was foolish to call them here. Anyone would be foolish to attempt to bargain with them.
Or desperate.
“Darya.” Morgana greets the red queen, then turns to the other. “Tasi.”
“Morgana,” Tasi says, slowly and softly, as though tasting it on her lips. “It has been long since we’ve walked on land.”
I notice that they aren’t walking on land at all, though. They’re standing in a puddle of water that follows them everywhere.
They don’t trust us.
“Where is the child?”
Morgana looks around, until her eyes find mine. “Nevlaria.”
It’s a command.
The queen says my name like it is a curse, a veiled threat coated in hatred. I stiffen, and in the cavity of my chest, I feel my heart speed, like it did when I was running from the wyr, like it does every time I face a danger.
I had a plan then. Now, I don’t. There’s no escaping this predator.
What was I thinking? The dress, Drusk, all of it. I should have thrown myself at her feet and declared myself her creature. I should have thought of nothing but to live. Survive her. Outlive her, until I have my freedom. Someone was bound to stick a dagger in her throat or poison her, some day. She is too wicked and cunning to live peacefully.
She is another Nyx.
And I?
You will make yourself invisible. You will make yourself irrelevant. I never want to hear anyone say your name to form a praise. If you fail in this, I will destroy you.
Irrelevant. Invisible. Weak.
I am nothing.
Drusk’s grasp tightens on mine, and my gaze slides to our fingers. As I stare, the inner voice screaming for my attention, telling me who I am, what I should be, is lowered to a whisper and then tuned out entirely.
This. His grasp. That’s solid and real.
I look at the queen, feeling his hand, focusing on it, until I have to let go.
Then, I walk down the hall to stand before her, next to the sea queens. I fall to the ground as elegantly as I can manage.
“This is my granddaughter,” Morgana says.
I understand then.
She wants to sell me to them. To the sea, where I will be torn apart. Where I will no longer be a problem for her. She’s bartered me for an alliance that will render her more powerful than my ability ever could.
My heart beats at a thousand miles an hour.
No. She cannot. I cannot.
If I’m right, I’ll never again see the Court of Mist. I’ll never see my parents. I’ll drown underwater for the rest of time. I admire the sea folk, but I cannot think of a worse fate than to end up with them, away from all I love, all I am.
I have to prevent this somehow. Convince them to abandon the notion.
The sea queen with gray-white hair touches my chin, forcing me to look up from my deep curtsy. “Your mind is waves of shadows, child. Shadows and terror. Pray, what do you fear?”
I look down the depths of her tumultuous eyes. “You.”
She laughs, pleased. “A smart girl. Good. Dance with my near-son.”
She doesn’t tell me which son she means, and it doesn’t matter.
One of the men detaches himself from the rest of her retainers, approaching me. He gives me one hand. I rise to my feet, glancing at Drusk in the distance.
Never have I wished for someone to save me. Never have I thought of such a thing. Meda would be appalled if she suspected I might, but I think it all the same.
I want him to come here and pull me far, far away from the magnificent sea prince.
He takes after the red queen. His hair is a bright blue, and he dresses in bloodred and gold. He’s tall, and fair, and strong. The sort of prince any girl might dream of.
He’s my nightmare.
He bows to me elegantly, and music starts promptly. Enchanting music that’s not of this world.
“I don’t know how to dance to this.” I take his hand, seeing mine trembling.
The prince laughs. “You don’t need to. All you need to do is relax. Are you able to, landling?”
I don’t think I could. Especially not when he pulls me close and puts his hands on either side of my waist, guiding me.
“Don’t fret. I won’t marry you.”
I release a breath. “Sorry, I thought—”
“Your queen wants you to. My mother wants me to. I won’t.”
I eye him mistrustfully.
“You’re too small, dainty, tiny, weak. You would break in the Court of Bones. I need a wife strong enough to bear heirs.”
I guess I should feel insulted. I’m relieved. “Glad we agree.”
“Unfortunately for you, that means Queen Tasi will want you for Kaito, instead. He’ll take you, and gladly break you. His court prizes pain above all.”
“And what does yours prize, sir?”
He grins, showing sharp canines. “War, my lady. And they call me Lind.”
“Vlari.”
We sway in silence that ceases to become uncomfortable as time passes. He seems quite adamant that he doesn’t want me. If we’re cursed to be with each other, at least we’ll be equally displeased.
“Why have your queens agreed to this? It’s not like the Sea Lands to come here—or seek a land bride.”
I’m surprised he answers truthfully. “Times are changing. There are forces that seek to control both land and sea. It is a time for alliances.”
“If only alliances could be had without throwing daughters into the mix.”
“And sons. Let us not forget the sons.”
We both laugh.
The next song is from our parts, and the rest of the court has joined.
Lind bows, and I am relieved to be released so early. I don’t look at the queen for approval, slipping away from the great hall.
Someone catches my hand just as I return to the corridor leading to the antechambers.
Drusk
.
I’m unreasonably irritated at him. “What?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “I thought you might want to dance.”
“I never attend royal revels, Drusk. I can’t dance, and I hate it.” And I couldn’t stay there another moment.
“You didn’t seem to hate it just now.”
I glare up at him. “They’re selling me to the Sea Lands. They want me to marry that scary guy—or his scarier brother—to seal an alliance. I’m good at pretending. I still hate everything about tonight.”
He glances back at Morgana, seated on a dais, lording over the rest of the court. Then, he takes my hand, and leads me away from the hall, farther in the corridor.
“They wouldn’t.” His lips purse in one slim line.
“Morgana is queen,” I remind him. “High queen, in fact.”
“No one can force another fae to marry. Not since the reforms.”
I snort at his mention of the law. “No, I guess not. She can only torture, behead me, and take everything I love from me until I agree.”
A mask of fury has contorted Drusk’s features, drawing his upper lip over his teeth. “She can’t. She wouldn’t dare.”
I’m stunned that he managed to say the words; they’re an outright lie. He must believe it.
I could tell him Morgana has already done worse. She’s stripped me of everything I should have had. She’s made me feel like every day could be the last, my time a gift of her grace.
“It doesn’t matter.” I walk down the corridor, heading back to the last chamber, where I’d found some peace.
“It doesn’t matter?” he echoes, in utter disbelief.
“Yes. And there’s no point worrying over what cannot be halted.”
“So you’ve given up. You’ve given up your freedom, just like that.” He seems incredulous, disappointed. Furious.
I’m angry, too. How dare he judge me, when he’s never had to make himself small just to survive? “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I manage through gritted teeth. “None.”
I’m glaring up at him, facing his rage head-on. My anger and his are a living thing, as tangible as our magic. I half expect to see it.