Seven Black Diamonds

by Melissa Marr

  There it was: the deadly question, the one Lily had no certainty how to answer without offending someone. So she opted for brutal honesty. “I have no need of a throne. I have a life in the other world.”

  The gasps and murmurs of the fae grew louder for several moments until Endellion spared her subjects a speaking look. At her glance, all noises stopped. It was clear that her subjects might revere her, but they were afraid of her as well.

  “Would you rather kill? That is the job of the Black Diamonds, and it’s what you were raised to be in their world, too. When I found out you existed, I was surprised at how groomed you already were for joining the mission.” She looked past Lily to the other three fae-blood. “I had my grandson and the others born to do this task, to be my weapons in that toxic world, but you . . . you were a surprise.”

  This time, there were no gasps. The fae were silent, and the moment felt weightier than anything Lily had experienced. Here was their queen admitting private machinations as if they were nothing shocking.

  Lily had to admire her grandmother. There was little doubt that word of Lily’s birthright—and of Zephyr’s—would spread quickly now. Lily hadn’t realized what she’d set into motion by coming to stand before the queen, but she suspected that the queen’s other two children did. More importantly, the queen’s smile made quite clear that she knew.

  “How did you find me?” Lily asked.

  Endellion gifted her with a kind smile, as if that question was the right one, and then she replied, “I heard of a woman who had my look, who ‘looked so like a darker version of the queen that she could be her sister.’” Endellion shook her head. “I had the reporter killed, of course, but I sent trusted fae to see the woman. She did favor me—not quite as much as you do, though.”

  “So you found my mother?” Lily prompted.

  “I did, but she apparently died before she could be brought to me.” The queen glanced to her left where Torquil and Eilidh now stood. “But . . . in my renewed grief, I learned that my youngest child visited Iana’s house. I learned that Iana had a daughter—although Eilidh did not tell me of my daughter or granddaughter’s existence.”

  Eilidh did not flinch away from her mother’s stern gaze as she said, “I serve my people and my family first, as I was taught by my mother.”

  The queen said nothing, but her attention stayed fixed on Eilidh for several more moments. Finally, she simply looked back at Lily and said, “I’ve been kept apprised of you during the blink of time that has been your life. Now that you are here . . . you will know the things your mother did not. Welcome home, Lilywhite Abernathy, daughter of Iana, granddaughter of the Queen and King of the Hidden Court.”

  The queen’s words were ominous, but before Lily could ponder what precisely she’d meant, she noticed that the whole of the fae assembly was sinking to their knees. Men and women, adults and children, every standing fae present other than Eilidh, Rhys, and Torquil kneeled—to her.

  Lily glanced over her shoulder at Creed, Zephyr, and Violet. They were also kneeling.

  “I don’t want—”

  “It is not your choice,” Endellion interrupted.

  Terror made Lily speechless. The queen had just declared Lily as family, formally acknowledging her as the direct descendant of her first heir. Lily wanted to ask what that meant. Was she now the heir to the Hidden Throne? Why wasn’t she speaking the same way about Zephyr? Admittedly, he wasn’t of both the king and queen’s bloodlines, but he was still of royal lineage. Lily opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Endellion stood and stepped closer. In a slow, deliberate move, she kissed each of Lily’s cheeks. “First, though, Granddaughter, you must visit your grandfather. The king knows of you, and he has been eager to meet you.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and added, “The royal family feels it when someone enters the Hidden Lands. He is expecting you.”

  Then she stepped back and motioned the other Sleepers forward.

  The guards stepped away from them so they could approach. Zephyr kneeled again and bowed his head. Violet curtsied. Creed, however, simply bowed his head.

  “Do rock stars not kneel?” Endellion asked lightly.

  Creed, in what was either arrogance or idiocy, met the eyes of the Queen of Blood and Rage with an almost casual glance. “I’ve offered my fealty to another, your highness. To kneel before you would dishonor that vow,” he explained in a clear strong voice. “I thank you for your forgiveness in this.”

  Lily’s mouth gaped open at both his formal words and the import of them.

  “Pray tell, what other regent is there that would necessitate such a . . . forgiveness on my part?”

  “Not a regent, your majesty.” Creed stood closer to Lily. “Simply one for whom I would gladly die before disappointing. I live to serve your granddaughter.”

  Endellion stilled, glancing first at him and then at Lily and then at Violet. “And you, Seelie-blood, have you offered my granddaughter a vow as well?”

  “I am—” Violet’s voice broke. She swallowed visibly, and then she tried again, “I am undecided, my queen.” She curtsied again. “I was born to be your weapon, but Lily is a fae worth following.”

  Zephyr’s muffled gasp was soft enough that none standing farther from the throne heard it. Lily could see Rhys tense, however. Eilidh and Torquil did as well.

  The queen merely told Lily, “My grandson will stay here”—Endellion spared a glance for Zephyr—“but you may keep the other two Black Diamonds at your side.”

  Lily nodded. She didn’t know the queen’s stance on the use of words of gratitude. According to the book Lily’s mother had left for her, some of the older fae were uncomfortable with such words.

  “Torquil will escort you to meet Leith,” Endellion continued in a slightly louder voice. “It is right that he should do so, to protect his own.”

  Lily had been long enough around Daidí and his associates to know that the queen was sharing another secret. Whether Violet or Creed caught the import of the queen’s words, Lily didn’t know. Several of the assembled fae undoubtedly did though, and she was certain Torquil did.

  Lily already knew that Torquil had been present the night the fae-blood were conceived, and the queen’s words intimated that he had family that would be present. Nothing about him seemed similar to Creed, but . . . Lily glanced at Violet. They didn’t truly look alike either, but the queen had asked about Violet by name, according to Zephyr. Was Violet Torquil’s daughter? There was something to the shape of their faces that made Lily suspect so now that the queen had hinted so boldly.

  “Maybe Rhys could come?” Lily prompted.

  Endellion’s voice turned cold as she explained, “Although my spouse treats my son with respect, there are those within our joint court who aren’t always embracing of the children the king and I had separately. He will stay here.”

  “As you wish,” Rhys murmured.

  There was nothing else for Lily to say, except . . . “Might I ask a small favor then?”

  Endellion inclined her head.

  “I’d like my things returned first,” Lily said. “I’d feel safer entering unfamiliar places if I had my weapons.”

  The queen rewarded her with an undeniably genuine smile. “You are my blood, indeed.” The queen raised her voice slightly as she added, “My granddaughter is neither prisoner, nor intruder, so there is no reason she cannot defend herself should the need arise.”

  Then, Endellion stood. She withdrew a sword from her own side and walked toward Lily. It suddenly felt so quiet that Lily could almost swear that they were alone.

  The queen stopped in front of Lily and held out the sword that she had worn at her left side. She was still very visibly armed, but the act of handing her own sword to Lily was both generous and politic.

  Lily accepted the blade.

  Endellion spoke as if they were alone. “I trust that you can use it?”

  “My father was insistent that I learn any
manner of things that suddenly make far more sense than they used to,” Lily said in a lower volume than the queen had used.

  The queen’s expression hardened briefly, and Lily opted not to stress her human upbringing just then. She wasn’t about to deny that her father had been integral to preparing her for this moment though. Instead, Lily bowed her head and murmured, “I appreciate the use of your blade, Grandmother.”

  “You may not have a gun here, and I suspect you might find a sword more useful than daggers.” Endellion’s lips curved in a smile that was more frightening than comforting. Her hand lifted, and Lily wasn’t sure if the gesture was intended to be threatening or the start of a caress. Suddenly, though, the queen extended her arm to the side instead. “Rhys? A replacement. I do not like to be unarmed.”

  Then, the queen turned and walked away. Rhys, Eilidh, and Zephyr trailed after her. The rest of the assembled fae dispersed as if a command had been uttered, and in mere moments, it was only Lily and her escorts who remained.

  thirty-one

  LILY

  As they walked in silence, Lily wished she had the opportunity to admire the beauty of the Hidden Lands, but for now, she followed Torquil as he led the three of them away from the queen and her assembled fae. There was no planning, no discussion, simply a brusque, “Tarrying is unwise.”

  He remained silent but for the commands necessary to direct them to a tunnel system that would, apparently, spill them out in the part of the Hidden Lands where the king and the Seelie-born fae resided. His only revelation was when he said, “The queen used to swim across, but after the day of the incident”—he met Lily’s eyes briefly—“tunnels were created. These are the only way to travel between the two courts or to travel from the Hidden Lands into the world where you have lived thus far.”

  Lily heard the things packed into that, the hint on how to escape, the implication that returning home might be forbidden, the useful fact that there was a second route between the courts. She nodded her gratitude at her soon-to-be-uncle and left anything else unspoken.

  “What is your affinity?” he asked Violet in a kind voice as they exited the tunnels into the Seelie’s domain.

  “Why?” Violet returned. She wasn’t as prickly as she’d been when Lily had first met her, but she was far from friendly. She studied him with such a thorough assessment that Lily wanted to blurt out the truth of why he had asked.

  Torquil met her gaze briefly. He made no gesture, but there was no need.

  “Are you always so snappish, child?”

  Violet barked a laugh that Lily now knew was a sort of self-defense. “Child? How old are you then?”

  He smiled. “I stopped counting a few decades ago.”

  “Eilidh is far too young for you then,” Violet snarked.

  “We are fae, and she is of my age generation.” Torquil shook his head. “Have you been taught nothing of your people?”

  Violet shrugged, but didn’t answer.

  Creed, however, took pity on him. “She’s trying to get your goat.”

  “My . . . goat?” Torquil scowled. “Why does she think I have a goat?”

  Violet made a rude gesture at Creed, who blew a kiss to her.

  “Lily?” Torquil prompted.

  Before she could reply, she saw two faeries approaching. Torquil obviously saw them too as he stepped in front of her. Both were Seelie Court by birth, like Torquil, but in affect, they reminded her of Rhys. Their attitude was arrogant, and their gazes barely acknowledged the sword that Torquil had drawn.

  “Please don’t be foolish,” he said by way of greeting as the two faeries walked up with swords already in hand.

  “So this is the girl,” the larger of the two said, studying her as most people would assess the mud on their shoes. “At least she’s not as abhorrent as the broken one.”

  Torquil looked at the other faery, the one who stood silent. “Nacton, please remind Calder not to do something foolish. The queen has sent this girl to see your father, her grandfather, our king.”

  Nacton shrugged.

  “Are you here then as an escort to take her to see Leith?” Torquil asked, although his tone made clear that he did not believe that to be the case.

  In a low voice, Lily told Creed and Violet, “Stay back and let him do his job. They are undoubtedly far more adept at swords and affinities than we are.”

  The two Seelie princes were studying Torquil, as if he were the only threat. There was no way they could know that Lily and her companions were trained to kill—and she was hoping not to have to demonstrate that truth to them.

  “Uncle?” Lily said, not caring which of the two acknowledged her.

  The slighter one, Nacton, stepped away from Torquil and turned to face her. He studied her with a curiously pensive expression.

  Violet started, “Lily—”

  “No,” she interrupted.

  Behind Nacton, Lily could see Torquil assume the fool’s guard, his sword tip pointed at the earth, as he attempted to bait Calder. It wasn’t a particularly bad move, but she had thought it was an oddly transparent one when her coach had taught it to her. On the other hand, it might be perfect for woefully arrogant opponents.

  Calder stepped in, his longsword lifted high and up in the falcone position.

  Torquil’s ploy wasn’t a move that should’ve worked, but Calder’s temper got in his way. He grew tired of waiting, stepped forward, and brought his sword downward from the right. The swords clanged together into the bind, and the fighters both tried to assess their opponent’s next move.

  Unfortunately, Calder had the strong position.

  Nacton leisurely struck at Lily, testing her like this was a class.

  Fine then, she thought. She raised her weapon and went through cuts she’d learned in the old medieval manuscripts—in both German and Italian—that her father had procured for her. Nothing she tried earned more than the occasional smile from Nacton.

  “Not completely useless,” Nacton acknowledged when she nicked his arm.

  His strikes became aggressive, making her step back.

  He drew blood on first her shoulder and then her leg. Neither was a deep cut. He was demonstrating that he could injure her.

  When his sword tip grazed her hand, she stumbled.

  Creed stepped toward them. “That’s enough.”

  “Stay back,” she ordered.

  Behind her, Violet and Creed were silent. She’d seen them struggling—wanting to help, but not wanting to do something that ended up distracting her or Torquil.

  As she defended against Nacton’s cuts and swings, she turned round so that she could again see Torquil and Calder. They were both fighting aggressively. At the moment, Torquil seemed better poised. He transitioned into the ox—his sword jutting forward like the horn of a beast—and thrust forward.

  But Calder leaned back, avoiding being impaled and allowing himself a moment’s respite. He swung back and brought the sword down in a clockwise arc. In barely the next moment, the point of Calder’s sword was plunging downward while simultaneously pushing Torquil’s sword to the left.

  As Lily’s attention wavered from Nacton, he twisted his sword in such a way that her own blade was knocked out of her grasp. She met his eyes, and he smiled. “Foolish girl.”

  There was a brief moment before the tip of Calder’s sword pierced Torquil’s side. Then, the flicker of hesitation was gone, and steel vanished into flesh. The sword’s tip pierced Torquil under his ribs on his left side.

  “Are you going to kill me then? Kill us both? Kill us all?” She stepped back out of Nacton’s range, gaze darting to Torquil and then to Creed and Violet.

  Nacton laughed.

  Was she a threat to them? More importantly, did they think she was?

  Nacton kept his sword lifted, but didn’t strike.

  Lily wasn’t sure whether she or Torquil was in more danger. She couldn’t help Torquil. All she could do was watch as he stumbled to his knees.

  Again Cal
der pulled his sword back, and she knew from the angle that this time it would be a killing blow.

  “Stop!” she cried.

  But Nacton said nothing.

  Calder didn’t even hesitate. His blade slashed down from the left.

  Just as the sword was mid-arc over Calder’s head, Creed charged. He caught Calder around the waist, using his mass and momentum to propel them forward. As they fell, the sword was caught between his shoulder and the ground.

  Instinctively, Creed tried to stop their fall, reaching forward with his right arm. The combined weight was too much, and Creed cried out as his wrist snapped upon impact. A second, almost simultaneous, cry came when the sword—which had been trapped between Calder and the ground—sliced into Creed’s leg.

  “No!” Lily tried to run to him, heedless of Nacton’s upraised sword.

  In a blink, Nacton’s blade flashed out and the tip rested at the hollow of her throat, not near enough to draw blood but so close that she couldn’t move.

  “Once we’re wed, your behavior will need to be remedied.”

  Lily wanted to laugh. Unfortunately, there was no levity in the Seelie prince’s words.

  “Once you’re what?” Violet asked in a tone Lily had come to realize meant trouble.

  “Wed,” he repeated. “She is the daughter of the true heir. Marrying her will allow me the throne that should’ve been mine all along.”

  Nacton spared Violet a glance. “Whose get are you?”

  When Violet opened her mouth to reply, Lily spoke over her, “The heir’s betrothed is injured, as is my friend.” She refused to let her voice crack or her attention drift to either of the injured. “All of the queen’s fae know where I am, and—”

  “Calder,” Nacton interrupted. “Contain them until I’m ready to wed my bride.”

  thirty-two

  ZEPHYR

  Zephyr had no great desire to speak to the Seelie King, but he wasn’t keen on being left behind either. His only other meeting with the queen hadn’t filled him with optimism, and his first meeting with his father had resulted in unpleasant truths and drunkenness.