Institute of the Shadow Fae Box Set

by C. N. Crawford

  No!

  I had to finish this without shifting here.

  With one final act of iron will, I forced the death instinct under the surface, and I thrust my sword into the wyvern’s eye. Clouds of blood bloomed around us. I twisted it sharply, and the wyvern’s body spasmed and twitched.

  If I didn’t take a breath within the next few seconds, the death angel would come out for good, and it would all be over.

  Chapter 82

  I whirled, catching a glimpse of Ruadan slaughtering another wyvern with his bare hands. Blood muddied the water around him. He pulled his arm out of the wyvern’s head, then turned to look at me.

  Through the flash of panic in his eyes, I had a hint of how I must look to him. I hadn’t transformed into my angel form, but blood flowed from my arm, pooling in the water around it—red tendrils, curling around me like ribbons. I was certain my eyes were bulging, and the look of sheer terror on my face was probably unnerving.

  He moved for me, a blur of black through the water. In the next moment, his mouth was on mine. I opened my lips, and he breathed into my lungs.

  Air, thank the gods.

  I don’t think I’d ever loved him more than I did at that moment.

  I turned from him, and I frantically searched the space around us for a way in. There didn’t seem to be any doors….

  It took me a moment before I spotted the entrance just above us—a hatch with a wheel, embedded in the top of the arch. And that was our way into a tower that hopefully contained a whole lot of air.

  My lungs seared me from the inside out. I gripped the metal and began turning the wheel with all the strength I had left. At last, the hatch opened, a stone door sliding to the side. Desperate, I hoisted myself up into a dark chamber, and I sucked in a deep, glorious breath as soon as my head breached the surface. I flopped over onto a stone floor. Ruadan came in after me.

  His silver sphere bobbed in the air above us, illuminating broken statues that jutted from the towering walls. I gasped for breath and surveyed the space around us. Stony rib vaults arched high above us, like a medieval cathedral. Engraved oak doors were inset into the wall.

  Gods below, that had been a close call. If my dark angel had come out, Ruadan would be trying to kill me right now.

  I sucked in another long breath, and Ruadan turned to look at me. Droplets of water peaked his lashes.

  He pulled a lever on the floor, and the sound of shifting stone filled the chamber. The bottom of the hatch closed.

  I peered down at myself, at the blood dripping off my body.

  “You’re injured,” said Ruadan.

  “Was it all the blood that tipped you off?” I gasped. “You look a bit winded.”

  An arched eyebrow. “I look a bit winded?” Ruadan knelt by my side.

  As soon as I looked down at my own arm, the pain from the wounds came roaring into my consciousness, and I gasped. It looked worse than I realized. “I’m so glad we can just portal out of this place.”

  Already, his healing magic was snaking over my skin, shimmering violet that began healing the ragged injury. He traced his fingertips over the wounds as he healed me, and his magic tingled up my arm.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked. We’d come to save his mother. What sort of state would she be in after years of captivity, under Baleros’s care?

  “About what?”

  “About seeing your mum after she’s been imprisoned for fifteen years. Seems kind of like a big moment.”

  He shot me a surprised look, then focused on my arm again. “I hadn’t thought about what we might find. I’ve been unwilling to expect that she might really be alive.”

  “You haven’t thought about her because you don’t want to be disappointed.” I knew a thing or two about protecting your heart.

  “She’s the one who gave me over to Baleros when I was three. We never had a warm relationship, but I used to think she was a literal goddess.” A line furrowed between his eyebrows, and he seemed lost in his own thoughts. “I made her wreaths out of apple blossoms and clover, threaded with silk ribbons. They were my offerings to her.”

  My lips twitched in a smile, warmth pooling in my chest. “Did she wear them?”

  “No.” His magic caressed my skin.

  I really wanted to see Ruadan making a wreath out of flowers. “If you made me one, I’d wear it.”

  A smiled played over his lips for just a moment. “Do you actually want one?”

  “Of course.”

  He met my gaze for a moment, his expression guarded, then focused on my arm again. At last, all the skin had healed.

  As much as I’d thought about protecting my heart, I needed him close just for another moment. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. I indulged for a second in his smell, in the feel of his skin against me. For an instant, his hand found the small of my back.

  Then, he pulled away from me.

  I crossed my arms, still catching my breath. “Do you think we’ll find any more wyverns on the other side?” I asked.

  I pressed my ear to the oak door, listening. It took only a moment before I realized the sheer pointlessness of trying to hear through a stone, airtight chamber wall.

  Ruadan sniffed the air. “I have no idea. If it’s anything we can’t kill, I’ll create a portal to get out of here.”

  He pushed on the oak door, and it groaned open, sliding against the rough floor. Ruadan’s silver sphere shot into the room, but the darkness swallowed it up.

  I took a tentative step inside after him. The air smelled of damp sediment, a hint of sulfur, and brine. A harsh sound rasped in the air around us, and a dank breeze lifted my hair.

  How, exactly, was there a breeze in an airtight chamber?

  The air whispered around me, and I was certain I heard the word repent in it, but I could see fuck-all. I gripped my sword tighter, totally unsure what to do in this situation. I was starting to feel nostalgic for my gladiator days. Granted, I had lived in a cage, but at least I’d got to fight monsters I could see in the open air.

  From behind, a slimy limb snaked over my chest, and I whirled, swinging my sword. It sliced through the air, hitting nothing.

  So, this is how it would be. We’d be fighting intangible wraiths in the dark.

  Long, bony fingers tore at my hair. I pivoted again, but my sword slashed only air.

  Then, from behind, a slithering hand covered my mouth, my nose, pinning me in place. Wet lips at my ear whispered, “Liora.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t let Ruadan hear my real name. I jabbed wildly behind me with my elbow, but my blows helplessly hit the air.

  “Liora,” the creature whispered again. What the fuck was this thing made of? Just disembodied arms and a wet mouth? “Liora,” she whispered, a cold tongue licking at my ear. “You’re far from home. You’ve lost your way, haven’t you?”

  Rage simmered under the surface, a roiling volcano ready to erupt.

  The creature jammed her clammy fingers into my mouth, gagging me. They tasted of salty sediment and moss. Choking, I bit down hard on them, but she didn’t seem to care, and she thrust her arm further into my throat. I couldn’t breathe, and her moist flesh was invading me, stealing my air. A long, cold tongue licked up my neck, and I feared I’d vomit with her hand in my mouth. I wanted to rip her to pieces, but I couldn’t grasp anything. She shoved her hand in farther, and I could feel the bile rising in my throat, threatening to explode.

  “You know the truth, don’t you, Liora?” Her voice was rising, my name loud on her tongue. What the hells was Ruadan doing right now? “You know what really happened that day, don’t you?”

  An image burst in my mind of red hair, blood streaming over pale skin—a trickle from red lips.

  Rage erupted in a flash of white light, and in the next moment, I’d ripped her arms off of me. Now, my fist was hitting real flesh, fast as a storm wind. I pounded the creature, breaking bones, breaking skin. Then, I swung for her with my swor
d, the blade carving bone, carving flesh.

  She kept whispering my name, over and over, until, at last … she went silent. Something heavy and wet fell to the floor.

  Ruadan’s silver sphere bloomed in the air again, casting its light over my attacker. I was surprised to see that she looked beautiful—a pale little waif with silver hair. The only thing animal about her was her long claws. She wore a long, green gown, and waxy limbs lay across the stone floor. I’d battered the shit out of her. Had that delicate little thing nearly killed me?

  I glanced up at Ruadan. Two waifs lay at his feet, their eyes gaping. His kills had been cleaner—two simple snapped necks, jaws hanging open.

  I caught my breath. “Did you hear any of that?” I asked.

  “Any of what?” His voice sounded sharp. Something had definitely rattled him.

  The bit about my name being Liora. “What she said to me. Did you hear it?”

  He shook his head, his skin paler than normal. Whatever they’d said to him had unnerved him.

  Clack, clack, clack…. A new sound echoed from the shadows. It sounded like bones tapping against each other. I tightened my grip on the sword, my palm slicked with blood from the waif.

  A chill danced up the back of my neck as I stepped farther into the hall.

  Ruadan whispered a spell, calling up another orb of silver light—larger this time. It floated further into the hall, until it cast its eerie light over a tall figure.

  A throned woman sat before us—a silver cloak, a crown of black horns, dark feathers that swooped up from her collar. She held a silver scepter, its top crowned with an opalescent dome. Her eyes had the same opalescent sheen.

  From one hand, her long, black nails clacked against the throne’s stone arms. Her skin looked like marble, and ravens fluttered around her head.

  I swallowed hard. Was this Ruadan’s mum? No wonder he used to think she was a goddess. I believed she was a goddess, and I’d only just seen her for the first time. I could not imagine this woman being thrilled by a gift of floral wreaths from a little boy, and the thought of tiny Ruadan trying to impress her made me want to wrap my arms around him again.

  “Mother,” said Ruadan.

  Chapter 83

  She arched a thin, white eyebrow. “Ruadan. Fifteen years.” Her voice sounded angry and calm at the same time, strangely dissonant. “It took you fifteen years to find me.”

  “I didn’t know you were alive. Baleros staged your death.”

  Clack … clack…. Her nails beat out a steady rhythm. She sniffed. “It’s almost as if you learned nothing from him.” The ravens fluttered about her head.

  How old was this woman? She wasn’t an ordinary fae, but seemed old as time itself. I felt like she’d been on earth long enough that she’d started to meld with it. She seemed a force of nature more than an individual. This was not a woman with ordinary feelings and desires.

  Her head swiveled, a birdlike movement. When her pale eyes landed on me, I had to force myself to hold my ground instead of scuttling back. She sniffed the air again, her expression darkening. “What did you bring with you, Ruadan?”

  Force of nature or not, I wasn’t sure I liked the woman’s tone.

  I cocked a hip. “It’s who. Not what. In the English language, when you’re talking about a person, you say who.”

  A heavy silence fell over the hall.

  “My name is Arianna,” I said.

  “Knight of the Shadow Fae,” added Ruadan.

  Queen Macha cocked her head, studying me like a bird of prey studies a mouse. “But that’s not her real name, is it?”

  My heart sputtered. Oh, bloody hells. Not only had I stumbled into the weirdest godsdamned family reunion since Edward IV drowned his brother in a bucket of Malmsey wine, but this queen was about to unveil my secrets.

  Ruadan cut me a sharp look. “Not your real name,” he repeated, a hint of steel in his tone.

  Now, I had two ancient, terrifying fae staring at me and waiting for an explanation. I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. How much did she know? And how did she know anything about me?

  “What makes you say that?” I asked in a voice so soft I could hardly hear it myself.

  Clack, clack, clack…. “It’s quite simple. I always know when someone is lying. You, little thing, are lying to my son.”

  My stomach dropped. Still, she didn’t know much.

  I stole a quick glance back at Ruadan, whose violet eyes pierced me to the core. Was that betrayal I read in them?

  “Why are we talking about me? Shouldn’t you two hug or something? I mean, it’s been a while.” I made my voice sound jovial. “Yay! You’ve got the gang back together.”

  Two sets of immortal eyes trained on me, the only sound the flapping of the ravens’ wings.

  I cleared my throat. “Or not. Whatever. I mean, I have a weird relationship with my—” parents. I let the word die on my tongue. No reason to dredge that up right now. “You know what? Never mind. I like your ravens, Queen Macha. I’m thinking of getting some of my own.”

  The birds swooped before her face as she stared at me, still as her throne.

  “We should probably leave here,” I offered. “Before something comes to kill us. I think that’s the most important thing right now. And then we have some very important questions to ask about Baleros.”

  Queen Macha rose from her throne. The woman was only about five feet tall, but somehow, she managed to loom over us. “Yes. Son, open a portal before the wyverns return.”

  As if on cue, a wyvern’s screech rumbled off the stone.

  Ruadan touched his throat, and his World Key began glowing with pale gold. Already, the floor began trembling, until fissures opened in the dark stone. The flagstones crumbled and fractured. Dark, star-flecked waters burst from the floor, rushing in a whirlpool.

  I leapt in with the others, plunging into frigid water once more.

  In the Institute’s throne room, I hugged myself tightly, trying to warm up. Aengus tossed me a towel.

  “Is no one going to ask the queen how she’s doing?” I asked.

  All eyes in the hall turned to me—Aengus, Ruadan, and the queen.

  Clack, clack…. The queen sat in Ruadan’s stone throne, and she tapped her claws on the arm.

  “Queen Macha,” I began, “given that you were imprisoned by a maniac for the past fifteen years, how are you feeling?”

  She blinked. “Hungry.”

  I turned to Aengus. “See? It helps to ask these questions. Maybe we can get some sort of food.”

  “It’s not that sort of hunger,” said Ruadan.

  Did I want to know? “What do you mean?”

  Queen Macha lifted her chin. “I feast on the spirits of my defeated enemies, those fallen in battle. I feast on victory in war. The blood of the fallen nourishes me like a mother’s milk. It’s been a long time since I’ve ripped an enemy’s filthy head from his body and drank from his demise. I long to choke Baleros with his own entrails. I would like to ram his skull up his own arse, and feed from his humiliating subjugation.”

  My jaw dropped for a moment. So this was Ruadan’s mum.

  I scrubbed a hand over my mouth. “We will work on that. Maybe after a regular snack of cheese and crackers or something to take the edge off?”

  Ruadan was pacing the room, arms folded. His shadows claimed the air around him, and the room felt as cold as it had in the tunnels. It seemed as if a reunion with his long-lost mother hadn’t done much to calm his nerves. “Queen Macha, we need information about where to find Baleros. We have nothing to go on, and we’re running out of time.”

  She sighed. “He kept me alone in a room by myself for fifteen years. Underwater. He came to see me only twice.”

  “And what can you tell us?” Ruadan prodded.

  “He came once to tell me that he was going to kill you, and another time to try to mate with me. I divested him of his entrails, and he did not make that mistake a second time. Unfortunately, Emerazel, flaming gut
ter-bitch of the fire hell, revived him after I slaughtered him.”

  Ruadan’s magic whipped the air around him. “I know you learned something from his visits.”

  “Yes. He smelled of yews.”

  Ruadan’s head snapped up, as if this was meaningful. “Yews.”

  “The tree?” I asked. What in the world…?

  It was at this point that I noticed Melusine had crossed into the room. She stumbled into the center of the hall, her blue hair tangled over her shoulders. She held up a hand, like she was in class waiting to be called on. “I know this one,” she blurted. “Yews. The sacred tree of Arubian.”

  “Arubian,” I repeated, adding nothing helpful whatsoever to the discussion.

  Melusine raised her hand again. “Yeah, I can actually field this one, too. I’ve been doing my research on the fomoire. I hear the name Arubian, I know he’s fomoire. Death fae. Fomoire feed off unpleasant things, right?”

  A spark of understanding lit in my mind. “Unpleasant things like the spirits of the defeated?” I turned to the queen. “You’re fomoire as well?”

  A dark smile curled Queen Macha’s lips. “You didn’t realize that my son was fomoire?” Harsh laughter burst from her throat. “Silly cow.”

  My pulse sped up.

  Darkness rushed from Ruadan’s body, slamming across the room. Silence fell again as the shadows dissipated. “Baleros.” His voice as cold as ice. “We need to know about Baleros. You think he’s working with Arubian?”

  We were here to talk about Baleros, but the question lingered in my mind—what did Ruadan feed from? Seemed like we were both keeping secrets.

  Queen Macha tapped the throne with her long fingernails. “Arubian has a fortress in East London. It’s glamoured. An old cemetery, an abandoned church. A bunch of filthy human hoboes sit outside the glamour. If you can find your way through the glamour, you can find the palace. Baleros has a tendency to feed fomoire with human sacrifices. The fomoire become dependent on him for supplies, then loyal to him. I suspect Arubian is one of his generals, yes.”