The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  "Hush, hush," Corin said to settle them. "He means me no harm … do you?" he demanded, not entirely sure of the answer.

  Caelum smiled at him and his face softened, his eyes warm. "Far from it, sire, you have my word of honour. In fact, much of what I have done over the years has been to protect you, to get you here now, to this place. But you haven't answered my question. Do you know your true name?"

  Corin bowed his head, not looking him in the eyes. "Yes. Yes, I know it."

  "And do you know what it means?" Caelum asked, his tone gentle now. Corin snorted and gave a bitter laugh as Caelum sat beside him. He put a fatherly hand on his shoulder, his voice one of concern. "Do you?"

  Corin nodded. "I know what it means. It means I am destined to become the king that children tell each other stories about to frighten themselves at bedtime. Stories of deception and cruelty, of war and destruction." He looked at Caelum, feeling desperation expand in his chest. He had always known there was a dark power inside of him, something that would consume him if he wasn’t strong enough to stop it. "I am the Bright King."

  Caelum nodded at him, and Corin swallowed as fear prickled in his blood like tiny shards of ice. “You are,” he agreed, frowning. “But that is not your name.”

  Corin shook his head. “I won’t say it. We both know it, that is enough. Saying it …” He hesitated and Caelum spoke for him.

  “Makes it real, more powerful, imminent?”

  He glanced up at Caelum and nodded. “Yes.” Corin stared at the old man, wondering at his motivation. "Why?" he asked, unable to comprehend his reasoning. "Why work so hard to protect me, to make me king, if I am destined to become a monster?" Corin looked away from the sympathy in his eyes and put his head in his hands.

  Caelum patted his back. "I did not know you were the Bright King of the old legends until very recently, but Raeshe was certain from the day that you were born that you were the true king, the one who could unite all of the kingdoms."

  Corin looked up again, meeting his eyes. "Yes, and then tear them apart again.”

  He remembered the power that had surged through his veins as he had torn down the wall of Aos Si. So much power, he ought to have been torn apart by it himself, but he hadn’t been. It had been heady, that power, life and death in his hands, the ability to raze a vast city to the ground with little more than a thought. What if the lure of it, the temptation to do just that, overcame his own morals, his own sense of right and wrong?

  "No." Caelum shook his head, making Corin look at him again. "The legends are just that, stories, told and retold and changed with each retelling. Our stories are different from those of the human realm and from those of other lands, though they often speak of the same beings, the same names repeated, or sometimes a new name but the same figure bearing it. The names can change and so can the outcomes of those stories.” He reached out and gripped Corin’s arm, his voice hard now. “The truth is in your own hands, the future of your own making, if you are strong enough."

  Corin nodded and took a breath before voicing his fears, that the dark voice that spoke to him would become him, would consume him. "And if I'm not?"

  "I think, " Caelum said with an enigmatic smile, "that is something we shall not consider too carefully for the moment."

  ***

  Claudette stood on the terrace overlooking the gardens, trembling. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, hadn't even known that they were there until she’d looked down and seen Corin.

  The Bright King.

  That was what Océane had called him, the name that had made him so terribly angry, but what had Caelum meant about his true name, as though there was yet another? She remembered the cold voice that had spoken to her and the terrible power in his eyes on that dark night when she'd thought she had lost him for good. It had been ancient and pitiless, hungry for power for its own sake. Yet Corin had fought it and come back to her.

  What did it mean?

  Claudette wanted to ask him, but she was afraid, afraid of the answer, and she didn't want him to think she had been spying on him. She determined to find out what the stories were, what it was he was facing. Whatever it was, Corin was dreadfully afraid of it, and she wouldn't let him face it alone. Drawing in a breath, she tried to steady her heart. He would be strong enough, and she would do everything she could to make sure of that. She smoothed her hands over her stomach and considered his child growing inside of her. He was a good man, he would be a good father and a fine king. He was no monster and never would be … and yet the chill of fear still clung to her bones.

  Chapter 44

  Claudette sat beside the roaring fire in the huge, opulent living room adjacent to their bedroom. The lamps were lit, glinting on the ornate fixtures of the room. Too much gold, she though with disgust, wishing more than anything that they could go home to Alfheim. As strange and magical as this land was to her still, Corin’s home, Bertulf House, was her home, too. It felt safe, a refuge from the rest of the world, and she understood why Corin loved it so much.

  The day that had begun chilly and damp was growing colder still, and she knew that Corin was unhappy. She sighed and looked down at her stomach, still perfectly flat under the heavy silk of her dress. It seemed so strange to consider another life growing inside of her when there were no visible signs. They would appear soon enough, she guessed, and then everyone would know. She hadn't dared tell Jean-Pierre, and the only reason she let him return to their world without a fight was because she couldn't bear to see the look in his eyes when he realised. She wasn't sure he really liked Corin much, though he'd not actually said anything. Her brother certainly didn’t trust him. It was the look in his eyes when they were in the same room. It had occurred to her that he was jealous of Corin, but it wasn't in her brother's nature to be envious of wealth or status, so she couldn't quite explain what the problem was. He had wanted her to come home, too. To see their parents and explain the truth to them, but she didn't have time to explain how impossible that was for the moment. He hadn’t been happy about that, but he could hardly force her. So she had sworn him to secrecy for the time being, and promised to be in touch as soon as she could.

  The thought of having to break the news to her parents was something that made her squirm with discomfort. Remembering the talks her mother had given her about ensuring she protected herself from such eventualities made heat prickle up the back of her neck. She could almost see the disappointment in their eyes. They’d had such hopes for her and had been so proud of her wanting to go to university. Well, everything had changed. She was still studying, at least, but Fae law and history and economics had not been what any of them had in mind.

  Claudette wondered if she would be allowed to tell them everything, perhaps even bring them here to show them that she wasn't just another teenage pregnancy, that there was more to it than that. She was going to be queen and their child would want for nothing. She knew by now that the Fae guarded their anonymity jealously, and that the law said she could not share their secrets, but surely Corin would not make her lie? The idea that they should believe she had just been careless and had no means of supporting herself ... She went hot and cold at the idea. They would be so disappointed in her for giving up on her dreams.

  She tried to imagine her life with a baby, and failed, her mind stalled in fear by the idea of a squalling child, dirty nappies, and a husband who would mourn the loss of her figure. She shook her head, scolding herself for being so dramatic. He loved her and he wanted this child so badly. She swallowed as her mind drifted back to his conversation with Caelum. He had far more to worry about than just her.

  The Bright King. What were the stories about that that made people so afraid? What had Caelum meant by his true name? Just as she had begun to believe she could get used to this strange world and a people ruled by magic, things took yet another dramatic turn, and she was left feeling adrift in a foreign land once again.

  She wondered who she could ask about it. She considered Océane, but doubted
she'd know any more than she did herself. Laen or Bram might be able to answer, but they were too close to Corin, they might tell him she'd asked, or try to soften the truth so she wouldn't be afraid, or perhaps they knew nothing about it either. Perhaps Corin wouldn't want them to know.

  The library! Claudette took a breath, wondering how she could have been so stupid. She had seen the vast library and had wanted to investigate it. She even had an invitation from the intimidating-looking Light Fae who ran the place, caring for his books with the single-minded ferocity of a lion guarding its cubs. He would know of the legends, and they were bound to have been documented.

  She grinned and patted her stomach. "Alors, you see, your mother isn't so very stupid after all!" She was about to laugh at herself for being so silly as to talk to what amounted to a tiny bunch of cells, when a soft white light crept over her hand. She gasped as it flickered against her skin, barely there at all, like a breath of wind on a hot summer's day. The light curled around her fingertips and she moved her other hand to touch it, but it danced away, only to return a moment later. She tried again and the same thing happened, and she laughed as the patterns tickled her, realising it was a game and she was being invited to play.

  The sound of a door opening had her looking up, and she saw Corin walk into the room. He looked tired and depressed and she wanted so badly to make him smile.

  "Corin!” she cried, excited for him to see. “Look! Oh, come and look, quickly!"

  He rushed to her side, looking anxious, and then followed her gaze as she gestured to where her hand was resting against her stomach. "Look," she whispered, feeling awe and love growing in her heart as she watched.

  Corin knelt at her feet, his breath hitching he saw the patterns dance over her fingers. Reaching out, moving slowly, he touched his fingertips to hers. The magic leapt between them and coiled around his wrist, caressing and winding around his hand, touching his fingers, tentative at first, with the flickering light leaving delicate designs so like his own magic against his skin.

  "The baby?" Claudette asked, knowing without a doubt that it was, but finding it almost too extraordinary to believe.

  Corin nodded, swallowing hard, and Claudette felt her heart swell at the love and pride she saw in his eyes. "It's going to be powerful, like you," she said, smiling as she saw his eyes shining in the firelight. "Mais alors, I'm the one who's pregnant," she chided him. "I'm supposed to be the one crying!"

  He swallowed and kissed her hand, laughing with delight at the magic against his lips. "I'm sorry, ma belle, I am afraid you are going to have to get used to it," he said with a rueful smile. "I am simply overwhelmed." Corin pulled her close, resting his head against her stomach. "I love you both so much, I simply don't have the words."

  She stroked his head and smiled. "Oh, yes you do," she said, finding that she was glad now, glad for the child, for giving him something he’d wanted so desperately. Something to fight for.

  ***

  Laen sighed, shaking his head. It was a bad idea, but … it was the only one they had. He gave into the inevitable.

  "Oh, very well, Tully,” he said, not sounding the least bit enthusiastic about it. “Though why the devil I should protect you from Corin is beyond me."

  Bram sighed with relief and sank back into the armchair. "Because it's one thing for Claudette to agree to it, Corin is going to be another matter. Gods, he'll probably kill me for even suggesting it," he said with a gloomy sigh.

  "Well, it's not like there’s any truth to it!" Ameena said. Laen looked up, surprised by the edge to her voice as she gave Bram a searching look. "Is there?"

  Bram shook his head, though there was a flush of colour at his cheeks. "No! Of course not, I just need to make Leola believe it, that's all."

  Laen turned away to hide a smile and looked out of the window. He was well aware that Bram had developed a soft spot for Claudette since she’d arrived, and it was most unlikely that Corin was unaware of the fact. Bearing that in mind, Laen was of the same opinion. Corin was not going to like his idea one bit.

  Outside, the day which had looked so grey and miserable seemed to be clearing with speed as bright patches of blue became visible behind the retreating clouds. He guessed that Claudette had found Corin and was relieved to see that things looked brighter as he watched the sun fight its way through the gloom.

  He found that if he thought too hard about the future, he could feel quite gloomy himself. He hadn't been overstating things to Claudette about the state of the Light Fae's lands, and the dangers that were becoming more and more apparent the longer they stayed here. Corin had told him that he felt there was still power leaking from the land, some kind of drain on the country that neither of them could fathom, but he felt it stemmed back to the Light Fae's gateway between the worlds. There had been no contact from the party he had sent to secure the area, and he was still awaiting an update from the scouts he had sent to investigate. If there wasn't news soon, he would have to go himself. He had a bad feeling about it, about so many things here. There were too many dangers, too many unknowns. He knew Corin felt it, too, but they both knew they couldn't leave the land in such a fragile state. Corin needed to be here to reassure the people, and to begin the rebuilding that the famine and the ravages of the war had inflicted.

  In the morning, Corin would rebuild the wall that he had destroyed when they took the city, or at least that is what he had told Laen he intended. No one else knew yet, and in truth Laen was worried. He had counselled him not to tell anyone in case it couldn't be done. Destroying something was one thing, but to rebuild that vast wall? He didn't think it was possible, but then Corin had proved him wrong on too many occasions for him to dismiss it as idiocy. Corin had said it would give the people confidence to see their great city being restored and it would be another display for the Dark Fae, those that had not seen what he had done the day he brought down the wall. They may not want to be ruled by Corin, but they would respect his power. It would be something.

  Laen sighed and wished he could take Océane back home to his land or even back to Alfheim, as that had been the closest thing to a home he'd had growing up. He smiled at the image behind his eyes, of his child playing with Corin's. He imagined two scruffy boys climbing trees and fishing in the lake behind the great gardens of his friend's home, just as they had done. He hoped that would be something he would see very soon.

  "Well?" Bram said, sounding rather impatient.

  Laen turned, aware that he had totally missed the last few minutes of conversation. "I'm sorry, what?"

  "I said, are you coming, then?" he repeated, rolling his eyes.

  Laen shrugged, hoping he wasn’t about to create a difficult situation and that the blue skies wouldn’t be swallowed up by a loud and violent storm. "Very well,” he said, resigning himself to his fate. “If you are in such a hurry to get your head bitten off. Let's go."

  ***

  The Duke of Ravendell sat in his study, glaring into the fire, the swell of piano music filling the air. Luke did play beautifully. It was a sorrowful, haunting melody that more than suited his mood. He had returned to his home in Alfheim, too irritated to stay in Aos Si any longer. As ever, thoughts of Corin were at the forefront of his mind, and, as ever, that meant what little equilibrium he ever found was lost to him. That he had fought for the man, led men into battle for him, at the same time as plotting his downfall, just about summed up his life.

  Devil had not been at the Field of Kings the morning Corin had taken the three crowns. Ayana had questioned him over that, her dark eyes far too knowing. He told himself, and her, that it was because he’d known Corin would do it, there was no doubt. He’d known he was the true king, even as he hated Corin for it. Being there to see the man triumph over everything was more than he could stomach. That was what he told her. She’d looked at him, expressionless, and he felt sure she believed it even less than he did. The truth was rather more complicated than that.

  He gave a mirthless laugh; he, of a
ll people, should know by now that the bastard was golden, after all. It would appear no one and nothing could touch him. Over all of his years of trying, he had done little to disturb the man’s peace of mind. There had been one incident, many years ago, where Devil had been given the opportunity to hurt him. Devil gritted his teeth as he remembered, remembered his own weakness. He was a damned fool. Still, at least it afforded him the opportunity to play on Corin’s fears. “Don’t forget me, angel,” he murmured, wishing the haunted look in Corin’s eyes whenever he called him that gave him more satisfaction.

  A reckoning was long overdue. Corin’s scars still lingered, perhaps, but they were nothing more than doubts and anxieties. His own scars ran far deeper, scoring his very bones. Devil’s eyes drifted up to the portrait hung over the fireplace, and the beautiful silver eyes of his mother looked down at him. He shivered and looked instead at a smaller picture, to the right of the glamorous young woman who dominated the room. It was a sweet little painting of two boys sitting together beside their father. One a child no more than five, with silver white hair and strange silver eyes, as hauntingly beautiful as his mother. The other a young man of eighteen, handsome, with laughter in his warm brown eyes. The older boy was as dark as his brother was fair, and was the image of the man beside them. Devil closed his eyes, overwhelmed with sorrow, and the music that he had found so soothing just moments before jarred his nerves. His hands tightened on the crystal glass in his hand and he threw it at the wall with a curse. The young man who had been playing with such concentration leapt from his seat, staring at him wild-eyed.

  "I'm s-sorry, Devil," he stammered, eyes downcast.