by Elise Kova
The fae from Dreamsong flood into the room and further level the playing field. With this many hands, they’re able to free those that were still trapped in the cages hanging from the ceiling and they join the fight as well.
As the tides turn, I look to the dais. The smear of blood from Boltov’s head is still there, but Boltov himself is not. I thought he was killed, or knocked out at worst.
Where is he? I don’t see him in the fray, and the fact spurs me to action. I begin to run along the wall, jumping over debris and dodging deflected attacks that dig pockmarks into the brightly colored frescoes at my side. Crouching low to make myself small, I inspect the blood trail that leads away from the dais and around the back. Following it, I find a small door, hidden from view of the main room. It’s ajar.
I glance back to the hall. No one seems to have noticed me. They’re all too busy. Before I can think better, I cross the threshold.
Behind the door is a tunnel that I have to crawl through. It widens to open up to a spiral stair. Up and up, I spin until I’m spit out into what appears to be a closet. Dozens of coats and pants, all stained with blood and left on the floor to stink up the room, cushion my feet as I push through the curtain of hung clothes.
Shuffling in the other room has me halting. Boltov mutters to himself. Footsteps grow near and I crouch, sinking back into the passage before he can see me.
The hanging clothes obscure most of my vision, but I can see him rummaging around in glimpses. He grabs things frantically, as blood is still streaming from his forehead, painting his face a haunting shade of crimson. He opens a cabinet, revealing daggers, but instead goes for the jewels that are laid out beneath them.
When he leaves, I slink back out and take one of the weapons for myself, silently lifting it off of its pegs. He’s trying to run and I’m not going to let him escape. One bloodline will end tonight, but it’s not Aviness.
I emerge into the king’s bedchambers. He’s in an attached office, framed by bookshelves on either side, illuminated by a window-filled wall that overlooks the city and stars. Sure enough, he has an open bag on a desk he’s trying desperately to stuff too many yards of fabric into. He curses, frustrated, and sends clothes scattering with a grunt.
I silently pad up behind him. This is the king that has held the fae kingdom at its knees? No, he’s just a watered-down version of the first usurper, clinging to prestige that no longer exists.
Boltov reaches down for one of the jewels he dropped. He’s far too frantic to notice me. When he’s on his knees, I slip the dagger in front of his throat.
“Don’t move,” I say softly. He looks up at the window that dominates the wall behind his desk. Our eyes meet in the reflection on the dark glass.
“You.” He rasps laughter. “A human girl has come to kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you.” Though I certainly considered it.
“You’re going to show me mercy? I doubt your friends will like that.” His upper lip curls as he sneers.
“I’m going to let the new and rightful king decide what to do with you.” Is there a better coronation gift to give Davien than Boltov’s head?
“The new king…that squalling bastard won’t last a year.”
“A bold statement to make with a knife in your throat.” I pull in the dagger just a little for emphasis. Boltov leans his head all the way back to look up at me. His expression is mad glee.
“Davien Aviness—except he’s not really, is he? He wasn’t born with that name. He’s stealing the power of the old kings just as much as I would be. There’s not a drop of Aviness blood in him. That crown won’t heed him any more than it heeded me.”
“If you don’t think he could wear the crown, why try and kill him?” I’m not going to allow him to sway me.
“Because anyone who dares utter that they are part of that family is put to death. That name alone spurs rebellions. So long as people think there’s hope of an Aviness returning, they fight me.” He hisses and exposes all his sharp teeth.
“If Davien wasn’t the heir, then why couldn’t you wear the crown?”
“I’m sure there’s some squalling babe, or boy, a distant offshoot that has just enough blood in their veins to keep the ritual alive, likely from the last true Aviness who escaped my clutches. But who that babe is?” He chuckles darkly. “Not even I know. And killing every possible Aviness prevents anyone from even thinking to seek their heritage. So the true heir will never know either and the glass crown will never be worn again. The fae will be at an eternal stalemate.”
“Davien will wear the crown,” I snarl and jerk the blade even closer. It nicks his neck. Boltov merely smiles wider. “He is the heir.”
All this fighting. All this blood. To think Boltov is right…that all this time he was dissuading anyone from ever seeking out the discovery of the true bloodline…that killing Davien was a means to shatter the resolve of the Acolytes and he never was chosen for the crown…I can’t bear it. He’s lying, he must be.
“No, he won’t. The glass crown will only ever grace the brow of the true heir, and that is not Davien.” Boltov suddenly grips my wrist with strength I didn’t know he still possessed. I was a fool for thinking that just because he didn’t have the crown any longer, he would be helpless. He’s still a fae.
The world spins as I’m flung through the air. Boltov tosses me as though I am a rag-doll. But I grab onto him with my other hand at the last second and the momentum pulls us both toward the window. Glass shatters, raining down over the High Court.
Wind whips my hair and I feel my stomach sucked out of me as solid ground disappears beneath me. Boltov clings to me, scrambling. It’s just like the day I fell from the roof. I stare up at the sky, just like I did then, the moon a silent observer.
Never climb again.
Monster child.
The smell of the burning flesh on my back singes my nose.
For a moment, everything is clear. What really happened that day returns to me. The world seems to fracture because none of the pieces fit together for me any longer.
“I will not lose to you!” Boltov shouts. It brings me back to life. I have to catch myself. I reach for one of the ornate carvings of the windows and catch myself on a lily. “You will not—”
I silence him by plunging the bejeweled dagger into his neck. Boltov gurgles blood and his grip goes slack. He slips from me, falling, farther and farther, until he is nothing more than a speck swallowed by the shadows of the streets of the High Court far below.
Chapter 37
I’m too shocked to move for several seconds. I keep staring down, waiting for him to sprout wings and fly back up, waiting to see a Butcher dodging to the shadows to save their king. Or, waiting to see a man resembling Boltov somehow magically run off in the distance.
But nothing happens and my grip is going to give out if I wait any longer. I reach for the next window ledge, climbing until I pull myself over the broken glass and back into the room. Panting, I wrap my arms all the way around myself, reaching for my back.
That memory.
My memory?
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to expunge it from my mind. No, no no no, a scared girl who still lives in me screams, don’t think about it. Push it down. It makes no sense. I’m tired. I was near death. I’m in a world that my human mind can barely comprehend. The memories retreat, slinking back into the depths they tried to surface from. That day was one of the worst days of my life, but it wasn’t that bad. It’s all in my head, as Joyce would say.
I push myself up off the ground and head back down through the passage and emerge into a much quieter main hall. The fighting has ended. The remaining Butchers have been rounded up and are ringed by familiar fae like captives of war.
Davien is with Vena in the center of the room. The fiery magic has faded from around him, but he still has a faintly glowing aura. His eyes meet mine.
“Katria.” My name sounds like pure bliss on his lips as he heaves a sigh of rel
ief. He rushes over and scoops my face up with both his hands and, without warning, in front of everyone, kisses me square on the mouth. Just like that, the world vanishes for a blissful moment. There is only him, the feeling of his lips on mine, the way his breath tickles the hair by my ear—it’s all more perfect than I remember it. When he finally pulls away, I’m left stunned and wanting.
“Davien,” I whisper softly, my eyes darting around the room. “Everyone…”
“I don’t care.” He presses his forehead into mine. “Let them see. Let them all see that their king loves the woman who saved his kingdom.”
I shut my eyes as tightly as possible, wishing that this moment would never end. That the world was uncomplicated and I could remain by his side. But things are not simple. My soul is as murky as the shadows that usually surround the Butcher’s necks.
“That was not the fate we were dealt though,” I whisper only for him. “And your kingdom still needs to be saved.”
“We have won.” Davien pulls away and looks to the dais. His eyes widen as he no doubt realizes that Boltov isn’t where he was left. “What the—”
“Boltov is dead. I killed him.”
“You?” he breathes.
I tell him what transpired while they were fighting off the Butchers in the main hall. “…and then he fell.”
Davien releases me and looks over his shoulder. “Shaye, to me.” Shaye sprints over and Davien quickly summarizes what I just told him.
“I will lead a search party, Your Majesty. I will not rest until I have brought you his body.” She races out of the main hall.
“Before there are any more distractions, I think there is an important matter for you to attend to, Your Majesty,” Vena says, holding out the crown.
Davien turns to me. “I would like you to do it.”
“What? Me?” I glance between him and Vena. Boltov’s words about the crown are still fresh in my mind. “I don’t think—”
“There’s no one else I want to do this. The fae are saved because of you.” Davien takes my hands. “Please, if nothing else, for me.”
“All right,” I say weakly. Vena hands me the crown. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Even though it is made of glass, it’s warm to the touch and the most jagged-looking edges feel smooth. I see light shimmering from within, a similar haze to what was underneath the waters of the Lake of Anointing.
Davien kneels before me, looking up expectantly. I swallow thickly. Boltov was lying, surely. He was in a desperate position. Yet… This feels wrong; something’s not right. I push the thoughts from my mind. I hold the crown out over Davien’s waiting head.
“At long last,” Vena says softly. I lower the crown to Davien’s brow and release. “All hail—” Vena’s words catch in her throat as the crown careens off of Davien’s head, bouncing to the floor as we all stare in shock.
“What does this mean?” I hear Oren ask.
Davien is too stunned to say anything right away. He stares at the crown in disbelief, as though it has somehow betrayed him. I want to wrap him up, hide and console him. I want to scream at the crown for daring to make the man who has stolen my heart hurt in this way. I want to kill Boltov a second time for being right.
“It means…I am not the true heir,” Davien finally says.
“But the bloodlines…you were the last. By marriage, but…” Vena mumbles, hardly coherent. “We were certain…there is no other. And you have the power.”
“But there is someone else out there who is more fitting for the throne than I. There must be an Aviness by blood and not just marriage.” Davien stands, looking older and wearier than I have ever seen him. Yet, somehow, he still manages to hold his head high. “So I will lead, until this person can be found and assume their rightful throne. The search begins tomorrow.”
Night has turned to day, and yet I am somehow still awake. I feel like it has been a century since I last had a good night’s rest. Davien stands before the dais, Vena on one side of him and me on the other, as he begins to organize the fae under his new regime. There are countless matters that must be attended to, and they all blur together as the hours drag on.
The hall before me has been transformed thanks to the hands of the people of Dreamsong, and the courtiers who returned to the castle, all too glad to be rid of the Boltovs. Pennons bearing the Aviness seal have been hung throughout the hall—a star atop the silhouetted image of the glass crown done in silver and set on a navy background, circled by white lilies.
I stare up at them, bleary-eyed. I think I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before. But I have no idea where. I shake my head and rub my temples. It was probably in Dreamsong. Or I’m just so tired that my mind is playing tricks on me, like it did when I nearly fell to my death.
That’s the most likely explanation.
“Katria,” Davien says softly. I blink, wondering when he moved in front of me. “You should go rest.”
“I’m all right.”
“You don’t have to be strong for me.” He tilts his head and gives me a smile. “You’ve done more than enough.”
“I was hoping that I might…” I trail off. He’s so busy. He’s the king now—at least the temporary one until the real blood heir of Aviness can be found. And I’m no one. Even though he kissed me in front of everyone. Even if I helped him save the fae…I’ll be no one soon enough. I’ll have to go back to the Natural World and at best I will be a line in a bard’s epic.
“You might?”
I open my mouth to speak but Oren approaches. “Your Majesty, we found the remaining banners deep in the vaults. Would you like them hung up along the main road of the High Court?”
“Yes.” Davien stays focused on me. “What are you hoping for?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Whatever you desire is not ‘nothing’ to me.”
“I just wanted a moment with you…alone.” So much has happened over the past few days since we were parted, that it doesn’t feel real that he’s here with me now—that he’s safe. He went from chains, to battle, to ruling in a whirlwind. And other than a kiss, we haven’t had a moment to ourselves. His brow softens slightly, mouth relaxing from the hard line of a king and into a smile I know. “It is not important.”
“Vena, I’m going to retire for a few hours. Bring anything urgent to me. But for minor matters, I authorize you to act in my stead while I’m gone.”
“You really don’t have to do this,” I protest, though not with conviction. I desperately want him to do this. So badly I feel a touch guilty.
He ignores me and takes my hand. “Oren, is there a room that I and the Lady Katria might rest in?”
“Certainly.” Oren smiles and bows his head. “I think I know of an unused guest room that was spotted as we were looking for the old relics of Aviness. I can lead you to it.”
“Please do.”
“Davien, they need you. I can just go lie down for an hour and—”
In the midst of my objection, he hoists me up with both his hands and cradles me in his arms. I don’t miss the curious glances of the courtiers who have been lingering in the main hall, watching their new king settle into his rule. I wonder what they think of me. If I am already the king’s human concubine in their gossip.
“Perhaps you’re not the only one who wants to steal a moment for just the two of us.” He gives me a sly smile, oblivious to my insecurities, and follows Oren out of the main hall.
We’re led in a different direction than I went the last time I explored the castle. Instead of to the right of the hall, we head left. There are bare patches on the walls where I assume Boltov tapestries were once hung. Some have already been filled with new pieces of artwork, others are still waiting.
Oren opens a door to reveal a comfortable-looking bedroom. “Will this do?”
“Wonderfully. See that we’re not disturbed unless it’s urgent.”
“Most certainly.” Oren bows his head and closes the door.
I’m instantly
aware of how alone we suddenly are. Just like I am aware of every beat of his heart through the tattered shirt he wears. We hover in the center of the room, him holding me, and me just looking up into his eyes. Wordlessly, he takes me to the bed and lays me down.
There is no need for words between us. If we spoke we would have to talk about the complex circumstances that we have found ourselves in—all the uncomfortable truths that surround us. Namely that he is now the Fae King and I will have to leave all too soon.
Yet as he moves over me, he makes me feel…magical. Even though my back is against the bed, I feel as if I am soaring. Our bodies move together in a dance that only we know—that we invented. Our delighted sighs, gasps, and moans sing a chorus made for only our ears.
We put aside everything else and focus only on each other, once, twice, three times, until we are left sweaty and satiated in a breathless tangle of ecstasy. I run my fingers down his chest, tracing the curves of the muscle. He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my fingertips lovingly.
“I wish I could stay in this bed forever,” he murmurs.
“You have a whole kingdom to run.”
“A kingdom that isn’t mine,” he says sadly.
“If there is an heir more true out there, how could the Boltovs not find them?” I ignore what Boltov told me before he died. “Maybe that heir doesn’t want to be found. Maybe they don’t want the responsibility. Or maybe they have no idea who they are.”
“It is not about what we want, it is about our duty to our people. Only the true heir can wear the crown and control all the parts of the great Aviness power.”
I give him a tired smile. “Do what you must, but know that my confidence is with you and you alone.”
“And your confidence is the only thing that matters to me.” He kisses my fingertips again and pauses, refusing to meet my eyes. “Tell me, Katria, how do you feel?”
“Tired, but I think that’s unsurprising.”
“The magic is out of you now. We’ll have to return you to your world before you wither away to nothing.”