Institute of the Shadow Fae Box Set

by C. N. Crawford

  Aengus scrubbed a hand over his chin, leaning back in his chair. “What do you think Baleros’s end game is?”

  “For now, the goal is to create chaos and pin the blame on us,” I said. “He’s trying to unsettle people. Have you see the skulls and skeletons painted on the walls around here? He really does have a flare for the dramatic.” I tapped my fingertip to my lips as I thought. “He had this theory that the best way to take over a kingdom was to prop up a tyrant. Then, you execute the tyrant publicly. You get to look like a hero, and you rule the kingdom. And I think that’s what he’s doing. He’s making us into the tyrants.”

  Ruadan crossed his arms. “People are supposed to believe those little, dead-eyed humans are Shadow Fae?”

  “If humans are scared enough, they’ll believe anything.” I looked up into Ruadan’s eyes. “He still wants that World Key on your chest. Once Baleros decides he wants something, he never lets it go. He’ll want to kill you, then take your key. I don’t think you should leave the Institute.”

  Aengus snorted. “Good luck with that advice. The fastest way to get Ruadan out of a place is to tell him that he needs to stay locked within it.”

  Ruadan’s eyes darkened. “I’m not staying locked in here. Nearly every knight in the Institute is out there searching for Baleros, and we will be, too. We don’t rest until we find him. Baleros still has my mother imprisoned somewhere, and I’m not hiding behind these walls while others try to find her and stop the Plague.”

  I gripped the desk hard, my thoughts muddled. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Ruadan shook his head no, then added, “You can’t even stand up straight. You’ve lost too much blood, and you have no idea where to go next.”

  “The clue.” I reached into my pocket. “I forgot the clue. A pub called The Skull and Crossbones. It was on the jackdaw.” I didn’t want this lead slipping away from me. “I think I should go there now.”

  “Not now.” Ruadan’s commanding tone rang throughout the room. “Aengus, make sure King Locrinus doesn’t get into any trouble. Arianna’s coming to my room.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  He touched the small of my back, guiding me to the door. “Don’t argue with me. Do you know what happens to a knight who argues with the Grand Master?” His soothing voice caressed my skin, but there was a hint of threat in it.

  I followed him into the corridor, hurrying to keep up with his pace. My lip curled. “Disobeying the Grand Master? A light spanking?”

  “In Emain, disobedient knights were tied naked to trees—”

  “I like where you’re going with this,” I said.

  “—they were fed meals of oatcakes and honey—”

  “Literally none of this sounds bad.”

  “—and then wood-poppets would rise from the tree trunks and rip through their guts to get to the honey.”

  I winced. “That part sounds bad. What the fuck is a wood-poppet? You know what, never mind. Why are we going to your room?”

  “Arianna, even if you can’t feel it, you still have bits of … insurance salesman lodged in your organs.”

  I grimaced. “You make a good point.”

  “And I’m coming with you to the pub.”

  Obviously, I should not have told Ruadan that he needed to stay confined within the Tower, because he clearly had a contrary nature. He’d start banging on about wood-poppets again if I argued with him.

  “I’m not being disobedient, but it makes no sense for you to come with me,” I said. “You’re the target, and Baleros can’t get inside the Tower.”

  Dark magic snaked around him. Frost slicked the walls as we walked, and my teeth started chattering.

  “You don’t like feeling trapped places, do you?” I said.

  “No.” His eyes were straight ahead, not meeting my gaze.

  “Particularly by Baleros, I’m guessing.”

  He didn’t respond. Baleros had been my master and Ruadan’s mentor centuries ago, when Ruadan was just a young fae. I knew what kind of methods Baleros used to control people.

  “Did he used to lock you in an iron box?” I felt like I was entering dangerous waters, but I wanted to know more about Ruadan.

  “Rock,” he said. “Underground river.”

  Silence fell over us as we walked, but Ruadan’s quiet rage had sucked nearly all the light out of the hall.

  I knew one thing for certain. Like me, Ruadan would never be at ease until Baleros was in the grave for good.

  Chapter 70

  I sat at the edge of Ruadan’s bed, and he stood over me. We had less than a day to sort out this whole situation.

  “Take off your shirt,” said Ruadan.

  I considered making a “buy a girl dinner” joke first, but it wasn’t funny, and I smothered the impulse. I kept my mouth shut and pulled off my shirt.

  Ruadan sucked in a sharp breath, and I looked down at myself, craning my neck to see my wounds. When I saw the damage, I groaned. I couldn’t feel it anymore, but my back and sides had been shredded and burned.

  “Lie down on your front,” said Ruadan.

  I did as he said, folding my arms beneath my chin. I closed my eyes, feeling only faint pressure as he cleaned the wounds, pulling out the shrapnel. Because of his magic, I felt no pain.

  “Don’t you have healers for this?” I asked.

  “We do. But they’re not as thorough as I am.”

  “I feel privileged to be treated by the Grand Master himself.” I licked my lips, daring myself to ask the question really on my mind. “With Savus dead, are you keeping that whole virginity pledge?”

  “It wasn’t virginity.”

  “Whatever. Abstinence.”

  “As has always been the case, Knights of the Shadow Fae may not take lovers within the Institute. They may take lovers outside the Institute. Not that any of that is my top concern at this point.”

  Okay. That was a very formal way of saying “you and I will never be sleeping together, so get it out of your overheated mind.”

  Silence fell as he worked. Then, Ruadan said, “You died.” It seemed Ruadan was not letting this little point go. “When Baleros was here, he thrust a sword into your heart. You thrust your sword into his. Both were made of iron. You both died. I know why Baleros came back to life. He pledged his soul to Emerazel, and she revives him. I do not know how you returned.”

  I let silence fall again. He hadn’t actually asked a question, so I didn’t bother answering it.

  He tugged down the top of my skirt, working on the flesh over my hip.

  I breathed in his smell—pine and apples. Weeks ago, I’d spent a few days naked in this bed, my body wrapped around his, writhing from an overdose of lust magic. And now, Ruadan’s magic was rushing over me in tingling waves of pleasure. I couldn’t see it, but I was sure my skin looked better already.

  After a few more minutes of his delicious healing magic, he spoke again. “The wounds are cleaned and healed. Now tell me what you are.”

  Ruadan had a little habit of not answering questions that he didn’t want to answer. A brilliant tactic in its simplicity. He just kept his mouth shut and that was that. I had another brilliant tactic up my sleeve. Instead of answering, I turned over onto my back, one hand slung over my breasts, but leaving one of my nipples in view as if by accident.

  I blinked at him innocently. “What was the question?”

  Black slammed into his eyes, his demonic form taking over. For just an instant, I caught a glimpse of phantom wings sweeping down from behind his shoulders. Ahh … there’s the incubus.

  My breath caught in my throat. I’d never seen those before. Still, he hadn’t fully shifted yet. If he did, I didn’t imagine his incubus side had much self-restraint.

  He planted his hands on either side of my head, boxing me in, and warmth pulsed through my belly. Slowly, he raked his gaze up and down my body, lingering on my bare breasts, swooping down my waist, my hips, between my legs. The look he was giving me was purely carnal, li
ke he wanted to devour me completely.

  Lightning-fast, he leaned down, his breath warming my neck. He inhaled deeply, growling in a low timbre that reverberated through my gut. My back started to arch, and I let my arm fall away from my breasts completely. I licked my lips, staring into his dark eyes. He gripped the sheets so tightly his muscles were shaking.

  It took him a moment to master control of himself, until at last, his eyes returned to violet.

  Damn.

  He pushed himself up, turning away from me.

  I let out a long, slow exhale, staring at his muscled back.

  “Rest for an hour,” he said. “Then, we’re leaving for The Skull and Crossbones.”

  After about twenty minutes of resting, I hopped out of bed. I snatched a change of clothes out of my bug-out bag—a white button-down dress. It looked absurdly innocent—perfect for undercover missions, since the Shadow Fae never dressed in white.

  I pulled it on and grabbed my bug-out bag. Then, I armed myself with one of the swords and sheaths from Ruadan’s wall. I headed out to the courtyard.

  Before leaving for a mission, I liked to spend a little time delving into research at the library—even more so now that my friend Melusine worked there.

  Fully healed now, I moved rapidly up the stairs to the dim light of the library. There, I found Melusine perched on a ladder, nose in a book about unicorn shifters. A glow worm illuminated the air above her with golden light. She didn’t seem to notice me stride in.

  “Melusine.”

  She jumped, slamming the book shut. It took me a moment to recognize the flushed look on her face, and the heated look in her eyes, and to realize that Melusine had a bit of a thing for unicorn shifters. Interesting.

  “I wasn’t thinking about anything weird!” she blurted. “It says here in the literature that there’s nothing wrong with someone reading a simple, educational book about muscular men growing hooves and a horn.”

  “Simmer down, Melusine. I just need some help learning about a particular type of magic.”

  She nodded, straightening her dress. “What can you tell me about this particular type of magic?”

  “You ever heard of something where a human thinks he’s dead, but he’s not?”

  “Like he’s physically fine, but he’s all screwed up in the head?”

  “Yeah.”

  She scratched her head. “It sounds like psychomancy. It’s a new type of magic, about a hundred years old. You know, when I hear about people thinking something that’s not real, I think delusions. I put two and two together. Right? I once had a delusion that my brother’s toy soldiers were trying to kill me with poison. But it was actually our cat. Do you know what I mean?”

  Nope. “Sure. Yes.”

  She began leading me to an alcove in another corner of the library.

  “What did you call it?” I asked. “Psycho-something?”

  “The psychomancers were influenced by the human field of psychology. It’s a fascinating field. I know at least several hundred things about it.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Some psychomancers are able to meddle with human minds in ways that mimic actual human delusions.”

  She pulled a book off a shelf and began paging through it, humming to herself quietly as she did. At last, she stopped on a page, her face brightening.

  “Here we go. Cotard Syndrome. Person thinks he’s decaying, sometimes that he’s in hell. Total shock to the system, really. It can be caused by brain damage.” She shut the book. “Or, in this case, magic.”

  I crossed my arms. “It makes a weird sort of sense. The jackdaws are fearless, and Baleros is using them to frame us.” I bit my lip. “And what can you tell me about the Black Death?”

  “That one’s easy. Humans ascribe it to a bacterium, but it was actually caused by magic. Legend says the Horseman of Death caused it.”

  My throat tightened. “What?”

  “That’s the legend. Big outbreaks in the sixth century, the fourteenth, the seventeenth. Streets filled with bodies, red crosses on the doors, stench of death everywhere. Real fun, you know? Tell you the truth, some did have real fun. Did you know that people reacted in two ways? They flogged themselves in the streets, or they fornicated everywhere.”

  I nodded. That actually made sense. From my experience, humans were obsessed with precisely two things: shagging and hating themselves for shagging.

  “Whips and sexual relations all over the place,” she added.

  “I’ve been to a party like that.”

  Melusine shrugged. “I don’t know a lot about romance, per se, but plague-infested London doesn’t seem like a romantic setting to me. Bleeding neck buboes, red crosses on the doors, rats feasting on the dead. Is that something humans find sexually stimulating, like a man staring at an attractive brassiere in a catalogue? I’ve got no idea. That part’s not in the literature. To be frank, I don’t understand humans or people in general. But maybe they figured they had to make the most of their lives.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I get the idea.”

  “Why are you asking about the Plague?”

  “Oh, um, maybe I should have led with that. We have less than a day until everyone in London gets the Plague and the world ends.”

  “Ah.”

  “I expected a bit more of a reaction.”

  She frowned. “I mean, the Plague sounds bad, but the world won’t end.”

  “The world has ended before,” I countered, vaguely aware of the absurdity of my argument.

  “Not really, since we’re still here.”

  “Right.” I chewed my lip. “I see your point. Melusine, what the hells is a wood-poppet?”

  “A wood-poppet? I’ve never heard of that.”

  Had Ruadan been messing with me?

  A loud boom interrupted our conversation, and the floor beneath us shook. Books tumbled off the shelves, and I covered my head with my arms. “What the hells?” I shouted.

  Melusine—cleverly—had immediately leapt to an archway, avoiding the falling books.

  “Gods below,” I grunted. I clutched the bookshelf as the floor stabilized. “That’s the second explosion tonight.”

  “Someone’s attacking the Institute,” added Melusine, rather unnecessarily.

  I pulled out my sword, summoning my shadow magic. It whispered through my veins, cold and electric. I began shadow-leaping, rushing through the air, down the stairs. I slammed through the Tower door, then shadow-leapt across the Tower Green. Smoke curled into the air from one of the Towers.

  As I shadow-leapt, the wind whipped at my lavender hair. Blurs of movement whisked across the green as the other Knights of the Shadow Fae leapt into action, moving for the battlements.

  I leapt up to the top of the tower walkway, slamming down hard on the stone. My heart hammered against my ribs as the smell of smoke thickened around me. From the inner wall, I leapt over the stony gap, my sword already drawn. I hurtled through the air to the exterior tower wall.

  I landed on a walkway that loomed over the Thames. The golden moat beamed below. From the ground, dark smoke billowed into the night sky.

  At the top of the barbican, I stared down at the gaping hole in the stone wall below me—and the ragged gap in the moat’s golden light. Glittering red magic shimmered in the air. Two humans lay injured on the pavement—a man and a woman, clothing torn, bodies bloodied. Rubble littered the ground around them.

  The wind tore at my hair, and I frantically scanned the dark river, looking for signs of our attacker. City lights glistened on the water, but I couldn’t see anything resembling an assailant.

  Ruadan landed next to me on the battlement, and he gripped the side of the wall as he looked out onto the river. His dark magic lashed the air around him.

  Then, cold air whooshed past me as he leapt to the pavement below. Gripping my sword, I summoned my lumen stone’s power and leapt down by his side, landing hard on the stony debris. The shock of the impact shot through my shins.

  I tur
ned to survey the damage. The explosion had ripped through the exterior wall into a sparsely furnished room.

  “This is precisely where we’d been keeping Maddan,” Ruadan growled. He whirled, scanning the horizon for the ginger prince. “He’s gone. He shadow-leapt away.”

  “How?” I asked. “He didn’t have a lumen crystal.” But even as the words were out of my mouth, I was beginning to understand. “Baleros has one, though.”

  Ruadan reached out, skimming his fingertips over the glittering red magic.

  My fists tightened. “How could he possibly break through the magical moat? I thought it was impenetrable.”

  “It is,” said Ruadan. “From the outside.”

  Unfortunately for us, Maddan’s father had been inside the fortress.

  I scanned the debris, my gaze roaming over glistening pieces of flesh, a fragment of bone…. A passerby caught in the wrong place?

  No.

  A dark scrap in the rubble caught my eye. I reached down, picking up a tattered bit of black cloth. The coarse wool felt just like the fabric worn by the other jackdaw, edges singed.

  “This was a coordinated attack,” I said. “The king on the inside to pull down the moat, a jackdaw on the outside to blow himself up. Someone here at the right time to deliver the lumen stone. But why would Baleros care about Maddan?”

  “He doesn’t,” said Ruadan. “You know how he thinks.”

  Baleros’s twenty-fifth law of power: Divide and conquer.

  “Of course,” I said. “He’s trying to sow division. It’s hard to fight a battle on two fronts. If you get sidetracked by fighting the small-footed prince and his father, you’ll be vulnerable. Don’t let Baleros distract you.”

  Ruadan’s magic iced the air around him until my breath frosted in front of my face. “His distractions won’t work. We’re staying focused on Baleros. I’ll have our mages restore the moat.”

  I hugged myself. “How long will that take?”

  “Could be a few days.”

  “Shit. He’s leaving us vulnerable while we try to hunt him down. You’ve got the knights roaming all over London looking for him, and he wants you to call them back here to defend the Institute.”