by K. M. Shea
Shortly after I became queen, I had decided I was going to be the white knight that saved the Court from itself. And while I had improved the culture, in the end being the Queen of the Night Court might lead it to destruction.
The line clicked when it finally picked up. “Queen Leila, I apologize but I’m a bit occupied—”
“Is the reason why I’m not able to hold the wards in the Night Realm because I’m a half fae?”
“…what?” The Paragon sounded confused. That was hopefully a good sign.
“I lost more land in the Night Realm today when the wards failed, even though I flooded the barrier with my magic. I was reading up to see if there was something about the wards that I didn’t know or understand, and I found a book that says half fae can’t inherit a throne because they won’t have the magic or connection required to support a realm. What does that mean?” I knew I sounded hysterical, but I was desperately afraid for my Court.
The only way for a new monarch to be selected is if I die! If I can’t support the Night Realm, there’s no way out of this, except for everyone to hope I’m not as long lived as a regular fae and pray that the wards hold long enough for a new monarch.
A part of me thought the Paragon would laugh at me.
He’d always told me I was expecting too much of myself—and if this was a real probability he would have known it was an issue when I was first crowned, wouldn’t he?
But the Paragon was silent.
In fact, he was quiet for so long, I actually had to look at my phone to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected.
“Paragon?” I asked.
He sighed.
I clutched my phone, my palms turning sweaty as I waited for him to answer.
“I’d wondered,” he finally said. “You have so many of the positive traits of both races, and very few of the negatives. You have the fae beauty, human kindness, fae intelligence and natural magic, but you can lie and you don’t have to visit a realm to survive.”
“And?” I asked.
“I’d wondered if that lack of need—that you can survive just fine without needing to visit a fae realm to refuel—meant you wouldn’t be able to fully connect with the Night Realm. But an incredibly powerful artifact chose you, and you’ve proven you have a vast amount of power. I assumed it wasn’t an issue.”
I swallowed hard, and my eyes filled with tears.
“Truthfully, Leila, you have turned your Court around. It’s in a better condition now than it’s been in decades. The fact that you’ve seen no change to the Night Realm is an indicator that something is wrong. You can ask Solis or any of the other monarchs for more information, but they feel a tie to their realm. A special sort of connection. Do you?”
“No,” I whispered. “When I use my staff in the realm I can feel wild magic, and my Court, but that’s it. But I have brought the Night Realm into the human realm and the Summer Realm.”
“Yes, but that is not so much a testament to your connection with your realm as it is an expression of your personal amount of power.”
My hope that I was wrong started to crack. “It’s the connection that’s the real problem, then? Not power?”
“Yes. It’s your personal connection with the Night Realm that would change the realm. You use magic power to supplement the wards when they fail, but you need a connection with the realm to ground it.”
More silence—a smothering kind that threatened to choke me.
“It is probable,” the Paragon continued, “that the book is right. But—Leila—listen to me. This does not mean it’s the end of the Night Court. There are ways to supplement your connection. Some artifacts might help, or perhaps you’ll need some of your people to support you when the wards fail. But this is not a hopeless situation.”
“Really?” I wiped tears from my face and tried to keep my voice steady. “Because it feels pretty hopeless.”
“For someone as independent and competent as you I imagine it might feel so. I’m sorry you’re being forced to reckon with this—a thing that is entirely out of your control. But we will find a way. It may take some years, but I am confident a solution can be found.”
Years? We don’t have years!
I wanted to scream, but I needed to be mature about this. None of this was the Paragon’s fault. And in a twisted way, I was glad he confirmed what the book said. It was better knowing what the problem was than slowly being driven mad by my inability to save the realm and not knowing why.
Now I knew. It wasn’t a personal failing: it was a foundational thing about who I was.
I cleared my throat again, aware I needed to cut this conversation off before I burst into tears. “Do you really think there’s a solution, or are you just saying that?”
“For you? Yes, I think there is a solution—because your Court won’t turn on you. They respect you, and if you need help they will lend it. Other rulers don’t have that luxury.”
Yeah, well other rulers don’t need help.
“Thank you—and thanks for taking my call.”
“Yes, I’m glad you were persistent. I’ll let you know when I have news about the unknown magic. Until then!”
I tapped the screen to end the conversation, then let my phone fall onto the dog bed I was sitting on.
Barbra licked my face and whined, and Larry scooted closer until he was practically sitting in my lap.
As the tears started to come, I felt Fax press his muzzle into my head again, but all I could think of was how I was failing everyone…and wonder how on earth was I going to tell everyone.
Chapter Eighteen
Rigel
It was quiet again. I’d heard her sobbing on and off through the night—the noise was muffled. Not just because I was listening through the door; I was fairly certain she was pressing her hand to her mouth in a desperate bid to keep her cries in.
When did she last make a noise? I glanced at the clock. It was just past two in the morning. I thought I’d last heard her move about twenty minutes ago.
The light’s off. I stared at the crack under the door between our rooms, which was pitch black. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s had it off all night.
I cleaned one of my swords with a thin piece of rice paper as I pondered what I should do.
She’d been upset that she’d failed to stop the barrier from shrinking. To her it didn’t matter that we’d only lost a little land; she expected a perfection from herself that no one from our Court would hold her to.
And she’s probably torturing herself with her self-perceived failure right now, and the discussion she had with the Paragon.
She’d informed us—Chase, Skye, Indigo, Chrysanthe, Linus, and myself—of her conversation with the Paragon, and that as a half fae she lacked the necessary connection to the Night Realm to get it to change.
Skye and the others had rallied around her—assuring her they’d help find a way for the realm to survive—but the news was still too new to Leila. It was no small wonder she was upset as she was.
I glanced at the door again. It’s still quiet. Has she finally fallen asleep?
A tiny hiccup—one so quiet I almost didn’t hear it—poked the silence.
I frowned and sheathed my sword. No, she’s still awake.
I set my sword down and padded up to the door between our rooms.
Do I try reaching out? She needs companionship, but I’m fairly terrible at that. And I’m not certain I have a right to offer it.
It hadn’t bothered her before, though, when she sought me out and slept in my room previously. Except now she was in the depths of unhappiness, and she’d never even stepped close to the barrier between our rooms.
My two month absence did more damage than I calculated.
I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet.
Approaching her like this meant getting closer to her. I’d known for a long time she’d become the most important person in my life—that was why I’d left and tried to track her wretched enemy.<
br />
But since she said she loved me, I’d been trying to keep some distance between us. Because she deserved better than a blood-stained assassin—and I didn’t know if I could even let her in.
I hadn’t let anyone in since the death of my family. The risk—of loss or betrayal—was too great.
I’ve been guarding her from the shadows—where my sins won’t stain her. But she needs more. But what can I do? I can’t love like she can.
Another hiccup, and I opened the door without considering the consequences.
Her room was darker than mine—I had a dim light on where I’d been working on my weapons. Leila didn’t have any.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust and espy her sitting on a dog bed, leaning against one of her shades—Steve, the female with the gray front paws.
I took a step inside Leila’s room, and one of the glooms—who were lingering around Leila’s bed—hissed.
I paused. “Leila?”
As I’d guessed, Leila had her hands pressed over her mouth, fighting to keep her sobs in. She stared at my feet and took two ragged breaths before she was able to speak. “Sorry, Rigel. Am I keeping you up?”
I took another step forward and glanced at the gloom—Whiskers.
The oversized cat flicked his tail and pointedly looked away from me.
Apparently I have permission.
I approached my miserable queen. “The state the realm is in isn’t your fault. Your blood isn’t something you can control.”
“No. But I’ll never be able to protect the Night Realm—which my people desperately need.” Her voice was rough like sandpaper from all the crying.
She’s overworked and exhausted. She needs to sleep. But I don’t think she’s going to forgive herself anytime soon. She’ll stay up just out of misery.
The curtains on her windows were still drawn, letting the shining light of the moon—reflecting off the thick blanket of snow that covered the lawn—seep into the room.
By that light, I could see the watery trail of her tears.
Leila was incredibly strong. She’d held out against the manipulations of the Night Court and refused to back down when the other monarchs had hounded her.
But it seems like she’s finally reached a breaking point.
The urge to help her was relentless, but what could I do? She was never going to forgive herself, no matter how I tried to reason with her.
Abruptly, I remembered her warmth back before things were…complicated between us, when she’d sleep in my bed and burrow under my blankets and half hide under me as if she believed I could protect her from the world.
Maybe, I can at least give her rest.
I padded back to my room and collected a set of daggers, a sword, a handgun, and a spear—when sleeping it was always best to have multiple methods of defense on hand as it was your most vulnerable moment and the time when your enemies were most likely to strike.
I shut off the light, then carried my weapons into Leila’s bedroom.
She blinked in confusion as she watched me carefully arrange my weapons—I slipped the daggers under the pillow I was claiming for myself, put the spear on the ground and leaned the sword against one of the pillars of her canopy bed.
I was trying to decide where the best place to hide the handgun would be, when Leila finally gave in to the curiosity that sparked beneath the misery in her eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Getting ready to sleep,” I said.
“W-what?”
I tried to lighten the moment—saying anything emotional would be wandering into dangerous territory that I didn’t know how to handle. “You have your bedtime routines. This is mine.”
I settled on putting the handgun on a nightstand directly by the bed. Hiding it would have been better, but I always preferred a sword and dagger over a gun anyway.
Finished, I turned back to Leila.
Her eyebrows were furrowed. “But…that’s your bedroom.” She pointed to the open door.
I nudged the door shut. “You’re allowed to invade my bedroom at your leisure, but I cannot choose to sleep in your room? My Queen, those are double standards.” I paused. “Unless, it makes you uncomfortable?”
“No.” Leila stood up and brushed dog hair off her clothes—lounge pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt I knew Indigo had been trying to pry from her wardrobe since the beginning of fall.
Leila rubbed her arms and ventured closer to the bed.
I watched, not certain what to say—or what I should do.
Previously, when she needed comfort, Leila had acted on her own.
But that changed after I broke her trust when I left.
I wished I could tell her who was after her—I burned to eliminate them myself.
“I didn’t leave because I wanted to,” I said abruptly.
Leila plopped down on her bed. “You’re talking about this winter? Yeah, I’ve figured you had a point behind your disappearance, even if it wasn’t for work.” She frowned. “And I know that geas keeps you from talking. But next time, I’d appreciate it if you give me an indication—a message or something—that you’re coming back.”
I nodded.
Leila narrowed her eyes. “I knew better than to think you’d never do that again, but sometimes the requirement of fae truth still surprises me.”
I brushed the hilt of my sword as I tried to pick around the restraints of my geas. “The reason why I first left…as long as I live it will remain a priority.”
“Hmm. But it wasn’t work.”
“I didn’t leave as part of a contract,” I repeated—the geas wouldn’t let me say more than that.
Leila traced a fingertip across her comforter. “And…are we okay?”
“What do you mean?”
She glanced at me, and the reflected moonlight made her bronze skin glow. “You’ve been…off ever since I told you that I love you.”
“Ah.” I stiffened, my body automatically tensing for a fight I had no hope of understanding.
“I don’t expect anything, you know.” She grabbed a wad of tissues and blew her nose, then shuffled off to the bathroom to throw them out. “And if you never feel the same way, that’s my problem. Not yours.”
She turned the faucet on to wash her hands and splash water on her face.
Whiskers bounded off after her, hefting his front paws on the counter and licking water from the faucet while Leila dried off her hands and face.
When the cat drank its fill, Leila turned off the faucet and face planted on her bed.
She sighed, the sound muffled by the numerous pillows and covers she was mashed into.
“Do you think I’m incapable of love?” I asked.
Leila peeled her face off her bed. “Nah. Fae can love. I might have thought differently at one point, but you just have to look at Birch, Flora, and Amaranth to see it’s possible. And now that I’ve heard from Linus why he left, I can even see his love—his muleheaded, stubborn love—in the way he acted.”
“I’m an assassin,” I said, as if she needed to be reminded. “I’m not like an average fae—I’m far worse.”
For a moment, the sadness returned to Leila’s face, and I wondered what I had said that had triggered such a terrible memory in her.
To my surprise, she knelt on her knees and shuffled across the bed to me. “Why would you say something like that?” She peered up into my face, as if she could read my soul—who knew, maybe she could.
“I’ve spilled blood,” I said. “A lot of it. I don’t know that any of it was innocent bloodshed, but much of it was unnecessary, and only served to make things worse.”
She touched the side of my face. “But you regret it?” Her fingers were gentle, and I felt mildly betrayed by my usually rigid self-control when I leaned into her soft touch.
When I gave up on my irritation, I thought of some of the truly terrible fae and supernaturals I’d killed. Yes, it was on contract, but despite what the Curia Cloisters would
have humans believe, there were a great many supernaturals who were evil to the core—like humans, actually.
“Not much of it,” I said honestly.
“Mm, not a surprise.” Leila regrettably pulled her hand away.
When I frowned at her—surprised at her words—she added, “In the end you’re a warrior. Hmm…no—that’s too broad a term. I know!” She snapped her fingers. “You’re like one of those ancient fae knights: wild, maybe a tad scary, but honorable.”
“Honorable? Leila, I was an assassin.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “But you were never bloodthirsty. Deadly? Oh, absolutely. But you were never going to go on a killing spree, and you never go overboard spilling blood everywhere. When I first married you I knew being with you wasn’t safe because you weren’t tame. But I’ve come to learn since that you are honorable. You protect people, even when you don’t stand to gain from it. You know—like a fae knight!”
I stared at Leila in shock.
I can’t decide if I should be concerned for her intelligence that she sees me as a “knight,” or grateful that she’s willing to look beyond my past.
I was waffling between the two when Leila twined her arms around my neck and leaned against me in a gentle embrace. “That’s how I see you, Rigel. Because I know you.”
My hand hovered over her back, but I didn’t know if I should dare to touch her or not.
Something in my chest twisted when she retreated, her hands sliding over my shoulders as she plopped back down on the bed.
In a moment of weakness, I blurted out, “I no longer accept contracts.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m no longer available for hire,” I said. “I haven’t taken a contract since we were engaged—I knew other parties may construe my…work…as an act of war, and attack the Night Court.”
Leila tilted her head, making her purple-blue eyes catch the light. “Is that the only reason why?”
“No.” I glanced at my sword, then met her gaze. “It’s because you won.”
Her forehead wrinkled in her confusion. “I won what?”