by Melissa Marr
Lily bit her lip to keep from adding, “and air.” Getting away from them if they refused to let this whole soldiers-for-the-queen nonsense go would be hard enough. She needed to maintain some element of surprise. She’d meet the queen if it kept them safe, but after that, she might need to vanish.
A part of her had plotted ways to convince them to run with her. Surely her father could hide them! But even as she thought that, she wondered if she was being foolish to think there was a way to escape the fae.
She wasn’t going to give up though. She’d spent hours imagining potential scenarios. Daidí had contingency plans, and those plans had contingency plans. Surviving when there were factions who wanted you dead or imprisoned taught a man to think beyond the obvious—and that man had taught her. Unfortunately, contingency plans were sometimes unappealing. Her best bet would be a move to the South Continent, and being there would be safest if she stayed with Erik’s family. She might not want to become the next Señora Gaviria, but she trusted Erik and his father. Even if she outright told Señor Gaviria that she would never marry Erik, he would still take her in and keep her safe—and the Gavirias were even more intense about security than Daidí.
Inside the garden, Lily turned to Creed. “There’s no one here.”
“Wait,” he said quietly. He looked around and led Lily toward a ring of stones and what appeared to be toadstools.
Lily’s panic level shot up. There was only one reason to wait beside a ring, and that was because you were waiting for someone to come through from the Hidden Lands. She swallowed, the sound seeming loud in the dark garden.
Zephyr stepped up so he was on Lily’s other side. He looked at Creed and muttered, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
They stood in awkward silence for another three or four minutes before the ground seemed to shimmer off to the side of them. The gateway to the Hidden Lands was opening, and with it came a burst of sugar-scented air. Acrid tinges wove throughout the sweet notes, and Lily couldn’t help but think of the single-malt that her father sometimes sipped. He’d told her once that the burnt scent was peat, and that it reminded him of her mother. As she stood here tonight inhaling that very aroma, she had to wonder if his late-night admission had meant more than she’d realized.
As the shimmer solidified, the scent faded, and there in front of them were three actual, true fae. They were obviously of the purest fae lines, as they were all preternaturally tall and terrifyingly gorgeous. Nothing in humanity could compare to them. It was why being beautiful was often the first reason people were accused of being fae-blood. If money or other excuses couldn’t explain the beauty, it could earn a person the sort of attention that led to imprisonment.
Lily gasped, not because of their beauty, but because of the three faeries who stepped out of the circle, not all were unknown to her. Only two were strangers. Aside from being well over six feet in height, both boys were filled with light. Both bowed, to her specifically, and then they stepped backward one step.
There, between them and slightly in front of them, stood a third faery, someone Lily had thought existed only in her mind. She was older now, but there was no doubt that the faery in front of them was a grown-up version of Lily’s childhood playmate—her imaginary friend.
“Patches?” Lily asked, even though it had to be her. No one else had the same strange weblike pattern over her skin. She looked like she’d been broken into tiny pieces and reassembled, her seams left visible in the process.
“Lily,” she said softly.
Lily stared at her, and then looked at Creed. “You know my . . . You know her?”
“I do.” He kneeled.
Zephyr was already on his knees, head bowed. He had been since the moment the faeries took shape. He glanced up at her and ordered, “Kneel, Lilywhite.”
Before Lily could point out that she owed no loyalty to these three, Patches said, “No. Lily is not to kneel before me. Ever.”
Lily folded her arms over her chest and glared at the girl she’d thought was imaginary. “You have some explaining to do.”
Patches laughed, and for a fraction of a moment, Lily wanted to hug her. This was her oldest, her only female friend until meeting Alkamy and Violet. With Patches, Lily had felt free and safe and normal. With her, Lily had felt like she was invincible, despite the fear she had over the strange things she could do, things that Daidí and Patches both made her swear to hide.
But this wasn’t the child who had played hide-and-seek in the garden at the Abernathy Estate. This was a faery. This was someone who had made her believe things that weren’t true, who had lied to her and left her. Lily squeezed her arms tighter to her chest and frowned.
“Please rise,” Patches said to Zephyr and Creed. Then she glanced at the taller of the two fae boys with her. “Are we safe here?”
He was as intensely alert in the way of all of the bodyguards that Lily had known over the years, and she knew for certain that he was a guard or militia of some sort. He was also frighteningly beautiful: eyes that could be mistaken for ice chips, a face more suited to gods than mortals, and muscles that spoke of hours of training every day. He looked at Patches and nodded. The movement made his pale-blond hair slide forward. It was so pale that, from a distance, Lily suspected that his hair would look like a halo.
“Would you sit with me?” Patches asked.
As she spoke, vines rose up, twisted and braided until flowering chairs were sprouting from the garden. Forming seats from earth was something Lily had managed, but not six chairs simultaneously.
At Lily’s side, Zephyr was glaring at Creed like he was a stranger. Both boys came to their feet, standing on either side of Lily much as Patches’ fae boys flanked her. It was all so very formal, reminding Lily of the sort of contract negotiations she’d attended with her father. When both houses wanted to establish their authority, every word mattered; every gesture spoke.
When she glanced at Zephyr, though, she saw that his eyes were full of accusations and betrayal. All he managed to say was, “Do you know who she is?”
“Eilidh. Rhymes with Kayley and Bailey. Apparently not a fan of her royal entity of vengeance.” Creed shrugged, but Lily heard the tension in his voice that he was trying to hide.
Creed was nervous, but Zephyr obviously couldn’t see it. He snapped, “How could you keep this from me?”
In the next heartbeat, Zephyr punched him hard enough that Creed stumbled back.
Creed raised his hand to his jaw, winced slightly, and told Zephyr, “First one’s free. After that . . .”
“You disrespected our queen. You have no right to speak to the—”
“She’s not my queen,” Creed interrupted.
“Or mine,” Lily added.
“You’re all wrong,” Eilidh said. “But only as much as you’re right.” She sighed quietly. “Creed said you needed to see me, Lily, that you were ready for the answers I have.”
Everyone had remained standing, even though there were braided chairs of vine and root there beside them. The two fae boys watched them all intently.
“Please.” Patches gestured for Lily to sit first.
Zephyr tried to catch Lily’s hand to stop her, but she jerked away. He explained, “In fae culture, the highest ranked sits first. Eilidh is the heir to both the Seelie and Unseelie courts. She was born to take the Hidden Throne.”
But Patches offered her a small, sad smile and said, “Zephyr is correct. The highest ranking among us sits first. It is a court tradition that has resulted in many frivolous quarrels.” Then she met Lily’s gaze and said, “Take your seat, Lilywhite, so we can all sit as well.”
Both of the fae boys gaped at Patches. The guard looked at Lily again and then at Patches. “Is this . . . ? This is our sister’s child? You didn’t think to share your knowledge of her?”
Lily lowered herself into the chair, not sure if shock was settling in or if she was imagining the implications of the guard’s words. “Your sister?” she echoed i
n a voice that cracked.
“You see why I protected her secrets, Rhys?” Eilidh said, taking her seat.
“Does Mother know?” the guard, Rhys, asked. He and the other fae boy sat in almost perfect synchronicity.
Lily was still trying to sort out a different explanation in the words that she was hearing. Patches couldn’t be her aunt. For that to be true, her mother would have to be . . . the baby, the one whose death started the long years of attacks on humanity by order of the Queen of Blood and Rage.
“The queen’s baby died,” Lily said. “Everyone says as much. Even in the book my mother left . . .”
Patches shot her a sympathetic glance. “No, the book says that the queen believed the baby dead. She never found her daughter.”
“My mother.” Lily felt like her lungs couldn’t fill. “My mother is the baby who started the war? She is the lost heir?”
“I’m sorry for keeping so much from you.” Patches motioned to the guard, who sat on her left. “This is Rhys. My brother. Before my sister was born, Rhys would’ve been the King of Unseelie.” She motioned to the fae on her right. “This is my betrothed, Torquil.”
Lily swallowed, her mind racing to process everything she’d been told. “And what are we, Patches?”
“I am your aunt. My sister was your mother.”
The thought that her childhood friend was her aunt was almost too much to process. This stern faery was her uncle, and the queen . . . Lily stopped herself, not willing to finish the thought. Being the granddaughter of the woman who had shed so much blood was something she couldn’t begin to fathom.
While Lily sat silently, Eilidh glanced briefly at the boys. “I don’t know who your parents were, so I cannot tell you which of you is of higher rank.”
“That’s not why we’re . . .” Zephyr started, stopped, and sat. He looked over at Creed. “Did you know?”
He shook his head. “I just knew Eilidh because she came to me and asked that I attend Lily’s birthday party. She’d brought me an invitation from Lily’s dad.”
“You sent him?” Lily asked her aunt. “I thought Daidí . . .” Her words drifted off as pieces clicked into place for her. “Daidí knows you. He knew you were real when I was a child, and . . .” She shook her head, as if the motion would help her sort the facts into the right order. “I don’t understand.”
Creed ignored the chairs entirely and stayed standing at Lily’s side, despite Zephyr’s glare and Torquil’s slight tilt of head indicating that he found the action curious.
“Stand down, child. I mean my niece nothing but amity,” Rhys said quietly. “There are those who will want to kill her. I am not one of them.”
“Child?” Lily echoed. “How old are you?”
“Age is relative to the fae, niece.” His lips curved in a slight smile. “We’ll simply say that I remember the day Mother decided to kill every human standing on the sand. I remember when your mother was a child new in my mother’s womb and the queen had another name. I remember before that when I was her heir for many years, back when the thought of allying with the Seelie Court would have been called treason.” He looked back at Creed. “Sit. Your point is made.”
“His point?” Lily felt foolish repeating everything, but there were too many new truths to accept so quickly.
“He has just declared his loyalty,” Eilidh said. “Not to the queen. Not to her named heir.” She pointed at herself and then to Rhys as she added, “Or to the Unseelie prince. Creed has declared that his fealty is to you, Lilywhite. Should there be a drawing of sides, his is already stated.”
“No! We’re not familiar with fae customs, and—”
Creed cut her off, “I am quite familiar, Lily. You might not be, but every Sleeper was taught about fae customs and culture.”
“I want no part of this,” Lily told Eilidh and Rhys. “I want to be at home with my father. He is my father, isn’t he?”
“Iana would never answer that,” Eilidh said. “I asked.”
“But if I am Daidí’s, then I’m only half-fae . . . you’re still the heir, right?” Lily reached out and took Creed’s hand. Despite everything she’d decided, right now Lily needed his support.
At her touch, Creed sat on the empty chair beside her, keeping her hand in his. “I didn’t know about this, Lily,” he whispered. “I promise. I didn’t know you knew her or any of it.”
She nodded. “Eilidh?”
“Creed does not lie,” Rhys said.
“The Queen of Blood and Rage knew you by name, knew you were one of her Seven Black Diamonds. She summoned you, Lily. If there’s anyone who has more answers, it’s our queen,” Zephyr said firmly.
“Not my queen,” Lily and Creed said in unison.
Torquil finally spoke. “This will be fun.”
“By fun, do you mean likely to result in bloodshed?” Rhys asked.
At that, Torquil scowled. “Yes.”
“If I were fae, not fae-blood but true fae, wouldn’t I be like you?” Lily asked all of them.
At first, there was only silence, but then Rhys turned his attention to her and asked, “How many affinities do you have, Lilywhite Abernathy?”
She could feel words being pulled to her lips as soon as he asked, as if he could summon the answer from her by sheer will. Her body wanted to answer, her lips were already opening to share truth she’d rather not offer. She clamped her mouth closed, teeth cutting into her tongue as she bit down to force herself not to reply.
Abernathy Commandment #7: Secrets are valuable. Don’t part with them for free. Abernathy Commandment #6: Never confess your vulnerabilities if you can avoid it. She repeated the commands over and over in her mind to keep from answering Rhys, to keep the words from slipping from her against her will and wish.
It wasn’t enough.
Without meaning to, her energy flung out in defense. The chair he was in became a prison, steadily enclosing him, but Rhys didn’t resist the plants that were wrapping tighter and tighter around his body. They started at his feet and began lashing around him like living whips.
“Earth . . . ? And?” Rhys prompted. He glanced down at the vines and briefly smiled.
Lily kept her mouth closed with effort. She felt like the very words were being compelled from her body. Her hand went to her mouth to hold her jaw shut.
“Would I see a demonstration of all of your affinities if I attacked your lone subject, Lilywhite?” Rhys couldn’t move from the vines holding him to the chair, but his words and compulsion continued.
Lily swallowed the copper tang of blood in her mouth. She stood. Her own chair stretched forward and re-formed as a wall in front of Creed, protecting him since he’d foolishly declared fealty to her in front of Rhys.
“I gave word of peace to you,” Rhys said. “Those two? They are both disposable.”
Her wall of vines extended the other direction to shield Zephyr. In her hazy mind, she thought she felt his strength adding to hers as she did so. He might not have declared anything, but he wasn’t going to let them be attacked. The wall that she’d begun was dotted with thorny roses in front of him and were beginning to spread onto the section of wall that now blocked Creed almost entirely.
“He”—Rhys gestured to Zephyr, although his movements were sluggish as the vines had covered his legs and worked up to his chest and were now tightening around his arms—“would deliver you to Endellion. You would protect him as well? He’s knelt before her. Bled for her. He serves the queen and only the queen.”
Zephyr made a choked noise, drawing all gazes to him. Lily felt herself inhaling sharply and realized that she was drawing the air away from Zephyr.
Rhys looked at Lily and then at Creed. “Which of you stole his air?”
Even though he had to know that he wasn’t responsible for stealing Zephyr’s breath, Creed’s voice came from behind the living wall she’d created in front of him. “My affinity is air.”
“I hear the truth in those words, Creed Morrison, as well as
the lie,” Rhys commented. He looked at Lily with pride in his eyes. “You have two affinities. Are there more?”
She still wouldn’t open her lips to speak, not to answer, not to deny her guilt. Her whole body was irritated like the touch of moth wings fluttering incessantly over her skin. When Rhys had said that the fae-blood boy would deliver her to Endellion, Lily couldn’t stop her reaction—just as she couldn’t stop the urge to protect both boys when Rhys uttered his threat.
“Stop,” Eilidh ordered. “All of you. Please.”
Lily and Rhys both released the other. The vines retracted from Rhys’ body as the tugging sensation vanished from her body. Her attention was pulled to the boys on either side of her as the walls in front of them sank back into the ground.
When Zephyr was still unable to breathe, Lily realized that Creed had been afraid enough to strike out at one of his best friends. They’d both struck out at Zephyr.
“Creed,” she said softly. “Release him.”
As soon as Creed exhaled, Zephyr coughed. Her guilt at being the reason for this confrontation rose up, but this was not the time for contrition. There were three members of fae society in front of them, and Lily didn’t truly trust any of them. She’d been raised to believe that fae—much like criminal associates—required careful handling. At the time, she’d thought Daidí’s references to dealing with the fae were simply his nod at thoroughness, but he’d known about her, about her mother, about the future that she’d need to face. Being the granddaughter of the queen of all fae was a terrible thing. Humans would want her dead or captured. Fae would want to use or destroy her. The queen herself . . . Lily wasn’t sure what she would want. She honestly didn’t want to find out.
Simultaneously, she reached out to both Zephyr and Creed, taking a hand of each. “Peace between us, please.”
As the air refilled Zephyr’s lungs to the point that he no longer looked like he might faint, he glared at Creed. She debated telling him that Creed alone was not responsible, but she couldn’t say it here in front of the fae observing them intently.