by SM Reine
He looked a lot like Seth, the same way that first cousins looked alike, but he wasn’t Seth.
Marion knew him from somewhere else.
When she’d first met Seth, the brush of skin against skin had evoked forgotten memories. Among them had been visions of a vast twilit garden occupied only by a gangly, soft-haired teenage boy.
This young man was that boy grown up. His shoulders were broader, his waist narrower. The knob of an Adam’s apple jutted below a strong chin.
He called himself Benjamin Flynn.
Benjamin—the man that Onoskelis had wanted Marion to speak with about the darknet. Even with his connection to that strange Librarian, his first name still didn’t shock her as much as the second.
Who was Benjamin Flynn?
Marion intended to find out.
She just couldn’t find out now.
As they walked along the hall, arm-in-arm, Konig leaned in to whisper at Marion. “I said I’d help you find Benjamin. I’m good, aren’t I? Tell me how good I am.”
Marion had practiced sounding genuinely admiring, and she employed that now. “I’m amazed. How did you find him? Why?”
“Like I said, he’s writing a book. It must be your Benjamin, right? The guy you’ve been looking for?” The shards of Konig’s eyes sliced deep. “Is that the Benjamin you were expecting?”
It had the sound of a loaded question—the dangerous kind.
Marion said, “I didn’t know what to expect.”
The feeling of being immersed in a dream intensified to a feverish pitch, and reaching the courtyard didn’t help.
There were a thousand pairs of eyes on them the instant that they entered the courtyard. The music stopped, leaving everything in silence except for the trickling wine and bodies shifting as they bowed.
Normally, there would be nothing so formal to greet them. Though the sidhe had a hierarchy, there was never a sense that any of the gentry were better than other gentry. They were all friends. Lovers. Family. Rage and Violet would have been met by cheers of joy.
Konig and Marion were met by simmering silence underneath whistling wind. Thunder was still following the king throughout Myrkheimr. Charms prevented rain from falling upon the dinner, but the orchestra had no choice but to play louder to drown out the storm.
It was strange to be the ones cutting through the center aisle to the head table. Now Konig and Marion were the ones surrounded in swirling witchlights. They were the ones to whom everyone bowed. They were the ones who made the rest of the court sigh with envy.
Not all of the sighs were envious. Marion wasn’t imagining that note of disappointment.
The courtyard seemed emptier than usual. The members of the army who refused to march on Marion’s behalf were absent from what they considered family mealtimes, too. The remaining sidhe were polite enough to allow Marion to sit without another disapproving sound.
That was her thanks for self-sacrifice: silence. They should have been falling at her feet with adoration.
Marion kept her eyes locked to Konig’s face and forced herself to smile at him. She feigned being an adoring, attentive newlywed who thought everything that her husband said was hilarious.
Ariane was an expert at flirtation. She’d indicated how Marion should lean toward Konig and find frequent opportunities to touch him. She’d warned Marion when she should pull back, because going too far would make her seem overeager rather than appealing. And she’d told Marion when to keep going further because eager was ideal.
Those behaviors came to Marion naturally. Ariane had taught them to her before, and it was a part of her muscle memory, like archery. She didn’t think that the queasiness in her gut came naturally.
Konig said something, and Marion laughed even though she’d barely been listening. Even half of her attention was better than she could bear to give the rest of the court. She ignored the world outside of him.
For the most part.
A waiter arrived to pour her wine, and through the shimmering crimson fountain she saw Benjamin Flynn.
He was seated with the rest of the press near the fountains of wine. Konig had dictated that press should be kept as drunk as possible. This was another sidhe tradition, like multiple orgies a week, and was meant to result in good articles written about their people.
Unlike the rest of the press, Benjamin wasn’t drinking, nor was he flirting with any of the unseelie who wandered alluringly past.
He was watching Marion, just like she was watching him from the head table.
Wine stopped flowing and the pitcher lifted. By the time that the waiter moved away, Marion’s focus had returned to Konig.
She was so shaken by her glimpse of Benjamin that she had no choice but to hyper-focus on Konig to remain calm. She studied the smooth line of his forehead into the sharp triangle of his nose. There was a slight indentation below the center of his lip.
Konig noticed her attention. When his gaze fell upon her, all the light within his eyes went dead. He kept smiling, but he looked like he hated her.
Marion had been basing her plans upon the idea that Konig loved her. If Ariane was wrong, then Marion had nothing. Nothing at all. “Where are Titania and Oberon?” she asked. “Shouldn’t they be here?”
“They’ll be late. Weren’t you listening?” Konig had spoken with Heather Cobweb while Marion had been transfixed by Benjamin Flynn’s almost-familiar face.
“Of course,” she snapped. “The question is what they’re doing that is worthy of wasting my time.”
“They just want to make an entrance. They’ll want to impress us—especially you.”
“Me?”
“They think I’m still the child who used to get spanked for breaking things in Alfheimr. You’re an unknown quantity. You’ve seldom dealt with the seelie because they’re friends with the Alpha, so Rylie Gresham handles their external communication, for the most part.”
That information worried Marion, though she wasn’t certain why. It nudged at some less-than-conscious part of her brain. “I look forward to educating them in matters of the unseelie queen.” Marion settled back in her chair, goblet of wine balanced between her forefinger and thumb, practiced laziness seeping into the lines of her body.
There was no guile in the open admiration that Konig aimed at her. She knew she looked impressive adorned by a diadem made by the last queen.
“You’re so good,” Konig said.
She offered him a hand. “I know.”
He kissed her fingertips, the way that he had on those days in bed together, lolling in chilly comfort, familiarizing themselves with one another’s hearts.
Back then, she’d been able to gaze at Konig’s lips without imagining them locked to Nori’s.
The one kiss was enough to improve the mood throughout the courtyard. Marion could tell what the community felt by how easily the wine flowed, and how many blossoms grew over Konig’s bladed crown molding. Even the music was just that much sweeter while her husband’s lips tickled the palm of her hand.
The other sidhe fed one another, as they always did. Bare fingers slid figs into expectant lips. Leggy bodies slid into welcome laps. Magic sparked. Powerful magic.
It wasn’t Marion’s kind of magic, but it was hers. She was queen. She owned them.
That would continue as long as she captured their love.
Marion’s eyes fell upon the press table. Benjamin wasn’t there anymore.
She stood.
“Where are you going?” Konig asked.
“I’ll be visiting the powder room,” Marion said.
“Alone?”
“I’m not worried about my safety in the Autumn Court, but if you want me to take Heather—”
“Fine,” Konig said.
Marion had meant to point out how ridiculous it was to take an archer to the bathroom. “I’m going to be alone. I won’t be long.”
“Princess,” he said warningly.
She left before he could finish that thought.
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br /> 10
Marion didn’t understand what drew her to the honey gardens. It wasn’t as though she’d made arrangements to meet Benjamin—they hadn’t even communicated directly to one another. Yet Marion was drawn through the halls, sliced in turns by moonlight and shadow as creepers brushed her ankles.
When she emerged into open air, Benjamin Flynn was watching a waterfall that frothed from a tower built into the cliff and drained into a well. Its echo roared through the gardens louder than the crickets and buzzing fireflies and pixies rustling the bushes.
He somehow heard the whisper of Marion’s dress over the grass. Benjamin turned. The hollow of his throat was framed by his shirt’s unbuttoned collar, exposing the amber spray glistening on cocoa skin. His hands were hooked in his pockets, his slacks wrinkle-free except for where his posture ruined the line. He was a tidy man, and Marion appreciated that.
“Hey, Em,” Benjamin said.
“Hello,” she said cautiously.
His face drooped, and it was then that Marion realized he’d been lifting his hands to hug her. “So your memories aren’t back yet.”
Marion vacillated between potential responses, mind whirling as she tried to process the potential outcomes of the conversation. What was their relationship like? Why did he look so familiar? Had they really been in that blue garden together, and when?
“How do you know Dr. Lucas Flynn?” Marion asked.
“My mom was pulling records on him recently, so I used the name to…I don’t know, I wanted to signal you. I wanted you to know I’m a friend.” He lifted one shoulder in an awkward shrug.
Marion’s hand flew to her heart. “Your mom?” Now she recognized those Seth-like facial features, and where they really must have come from. “The Alpha. You’re one of Rylie and Abel’s sons.”
“The oldest, after Abram. You and I were pretty much raised together from kindergarten on, until…” His eyes lifted to the waterfall again. “Right about the time you met Konig. Congratulations, by the way.”
So they were childhood playmates. That garden hadn’t been at Rylie Gresham’s sanctuary, though. And this young man was almost the same age that Marion had seen in her visions, while she had been a small girl, not even as tall as his elbow. “May I ask how old you are?” Marion asked.
“Old enough to go to college this fall.”
Eighteen, presumably. “You must know my sister.”
“Not well. I was too young for her to care about me very much,” he said. “Whenever Dana visited the sanctuary, she mostly kicked around with Abel and Abram. They’re gun-shooting buddies.”
But he knew Dana, and he knew Marion, and he was familiar with part of her life she didn’t yet recall. “How did we spend our time together?”
“Mostly walking around and talking.” A smile crept over his lips. It lifted one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “I guess I talked and you listened. You’re a good listener, Em.”
That didn’t sound like the Marion that other people reported knowing. It sounded a little too…well, caring. Was it possible there was one person that Marion had liked without wanting something from him? “I’m interested in listening more. I’ve spent little time with shifters since losing my memory, so I’d appreciate a firsthand account of the current environment for your breed.”
“Ah, well, you won’t get a lot of help in that from me.” He aimed both of his thumbs at himself. “You’re looking at a one-hundred-percent, bona-fide, mundane human being. Most normal guy you can imagine.”
Now it sounded really uncharacteristic of Marion to have paid attention to him—unless he was lying about his nature. “I see.”
“You can say what you’re thinking. I’ve heard it all.” He shuffled toward her, kicking at the grass. “What’s a normal guy like me doing in a sidhe place like this? Or like, how much do I look like the milkman?” His grin grew broader. “I look nothing like the milkman, for the record. Our milkman is actually a milk-werehyena-delivery-woman. I’m definitely Abel’s kid.”
His resemblance to Rylie was strong as well. Marion could see the Alpha in the way that Benjamin acted cute and meek. It was a defense mechanism. A diversion. Benjamin may not have been capable of turning into a wolf, but the son of Abel Wilder would not be meek.
Marion finally emerged from the shelter of the columns, glancing once over her shoulder to make sure there were no Raven Knights in sight.
Benjamin sucked in a breath. She was startled until she realized he was looking at her in the moonlight. Her dress was impressive. So was her body. She had dressed with the intention of being admired, but it was strange to see such open attraction from a face so much like Seth’s.
When Marion had gotten to know Seth, he had been in the form of a human avatar rather than a god. Avatars didn’t need to look like the god that inhabited them.
Could Benjamin be another avatar of Seth, unaware of his soul’s destiny? It would explain the visions of Shamayim and his urge to connect with Marion…but very little else. A god could have simultaneously been in two avatars, theoretically. It would have required some strange back-flips of time traveling, but anything was possible where gods were concerned.
Though Marion would have to question Seth’s judgment if he’d chosen to be reborn as one of his ex-fiancée’s children.
Benjamin stopped looking at her breasts and regained the ability to speak. “I’ve been having visions and I think you’re the only person who can help me. I know it must seem insane, asking you for help like this when you don’t even remember me, but…there’s a door I need.”
Marion was snapped out of her confusing thoughts. “A door?”
“I think it goes to Heaven.” He hastily added, “That must seem insane too. There’s no more Heaven. But I keep seeing it, and—”
“Shamayim,” she whispered.
Benjamin’s eyes went wide. “There’s a woman on the other side. I’ve got to help her.”
“Why is a mundane man having visions?”
Benjamin faltered. “I don’t know. I hoped you’d have an idea because of…” He pointed toward the sky, presumably indicating a Heavenly direction where the gods might reside. “You know them.”
“I do,” she said without pause, and with all the confidence she could muster.
“There’s three of them, right? Elise Kavanagh, James Faulkner, Seth Wilder.”
Marion inclined her head. “The holy triad.”
“Elise has red hair and knives and stuff. Right?”
“Black hair,” Marion said. “Black eyes. White skin—very white.”
“A demon?” Benjamin said.
“My mother’s daughter with a man other than my father. None of the parents involved were demons.”
“Huh,” he said.
“Why?”
“I sort of thought the visions…” He shook his head. “It’s silly. I thought they might have come from the gods. But why would the gods want me to find them?” It was not a rhetorical question. He wanted Marion to ask the gods if they were involved, which should have been easy since she was the Voice.
The Voice hadn’t spoken to two-thirds of her gods in many months. Until Onoskelis made good on her promise, that was unlikely to change.
Marion gathered herself, flicking her fingers through her curls to tidy them around her face. “You’ll need to help me first. You must speak to someone on Earth who can help us find Shamayim.”
“Okay,” he said.
Marion glided across the garden, the dress’s skirt billowing around her feet to permit the occasional glimpse of her sapphire heels. “I need access to information on the darknet. The current administrator is named Lucifer.”
“The vampire.”
“You know him?”
He looked bashful. “Not personally. I keep tabs on all sorts of important people.”
“As some kind of royal scribe, I can understand why,” Marion said.
“Honestly, I wasn’t doing anything formal until recently. Thi
s is my first real thing.” He raked a hand through his fluffy curls, gazing up at her through eyelashes that were unfairly thick for a man’s. “I wanted a way to get to you.”
“Where’s the door to Shamayim?” Maybe they could go to it without needing Lucifer.
“I don’t know. That’s kinda why I need you. You’ve got the door…thing.” He mimicked knocking in midair.
Marion only had the door “thing” sometimes. If the right gods were paying attention, and if they wanted her to get somewhere, they would open a door anywhere she knocked.
Those were big ifs.
“Once you’ve contacted Lucifer…” And once Onoskelis returns my memories… “Yes, I think I’ll be able to help you with anything you need.”
“Great.” Benjamin gravitated toward her, though he stopped before crossing a stream dribbling from the basin of honey. “I shouldn’t have waited this long to find you. I should have looked you up as soon as I heard about your memories.”
Marion’s mouth was so dry. He sounded just like Seth.
Did Benjamin have any clue?
She had no willpower left to keep from asking. “Benjamin—”
He tensed, stepping sideways to get a better view of something behind her.
Marion turned. The Raven Knight with the white braid was waiting in the arch, standing back with his hands folded behind his back. How long had Wintersong been there?
“What do you want?” She felt defensive seeing him, as though she’d been caught doing something naughty. Ridiculous. I’m the queen. I can do whatever I want.
“Don’t you worry about me, Your Royalness. Wintersong’s just here to make sure you’s safe,” the knight said. “And to say that the seelies finally shown up.”
Damn. She’d been annoyed that they kept her waiting, but now she would have wanted them to give her an extra hour with Benjamin.
Seeing someone so much like Seth hadn’t healed the lonely wounds vivisecting her heart. It only made her hurt worse.
Marion waved a hand in the air, and a mirror of ice flowed from her fingertips. The reflective surface was as tall as she was, and the slight shimmer didn’t prevent seeing her reflection in enough detail to rearrange her skirts and hair.