by Bekah Harris
“I feel that Faerie has progressed in the years since we have been away,” Lochlan continued. “With Barrett ruling Seelie, Ivy and Ardan in Winter, and Padraic and Juliet in Unseelie, the other courts have slowly accepted the changes.”
Lyric acknowledged his point with a nod. The fact that a Laltog was Queen of Unseelie and of the Darklings who had been granted freedom to live openly there was nothing short of a miracle. And yet something about King Barrett’s absence didn’t bode well…
Her thoughts were interrupted when the door burst open, and the Unseelie Council members trudged out the door wearing grave expressions. Her stomach twisted like a wrung cloth, as Nan would say. How she missed Nan and Felicity. Ivy and Ardan followed the Council and stopped in front of them, waiting until the hall had cleared and Juliet and Padraic were through the door.
None of them looked encouraged.
“Well?” Lyric urged them to break the bad news with a wave of her hand.
“While your scenario was logical, the Council refused to act without more definitive proof.”
“At all or until we get proof?” Lochlan asked.
Juliet placed her hand on her hip. “Ugh, they’re so infuriating sometimes!”
Padraic smiled at her, leaning in as her anger charged the air. “Now, Juliet, as much as I love it when you get all worked up, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. Everything in any court or kingdom requires a ringmaster and a dozen flaming hoops.”
Juliet punched him and turned to Lochlan. “But to answer your question, yes, they require proof. The question is how are we going to get it?”
Energy rippled through the hallway coming from the direction of the portal room. The council was over. Who would be allowed into Unseelie once the meeting had ended? All of them tensed. Hands found daggers. Magic glowed from hands. Knees bent in crouches. They waited.
Finally, King Barrett rounded the corner, looking as lethal and handsome as ever—though, Lyric noted, a bit tired.
“I hope you’re not planning to kill me merely for being late,” he said, raising his brows at the visible tension. “I was dealing with a family issue.”
Juliet smirked. “Has our prince once again forgotten he is not yet in charge?”
Apparently, Barrett was having trouble taming young Dillon’s ambition.
“What did I miss?” he asked, ignoring Juliet’s jab.
King Padraic quickly filled him in.
“The vow complicates things,” Barrett said. “Fhaescratch has promised that no harm will come to Felicity, but I have promised that the Seelies will leave Lost Cove in peace. I cannot intervene without breaking the bond, and sending anyone from my court could put Felicity at risk.”
Lyric didn’t fully understand. “Why would sending in a spy with a heavy glamour put Felicity at risk? With the Magi’s help, even Fhaescratch wouldn’t be able to detect what you were.”
“His son saw right through Felicity’s,” he pointed out.
“He never realized she was Fae,” Lyric countered. “Keep in mind, the glamour was wearing away. She was coming of age, and it was nearing time to tell her the truth or summon the Magi to strengthen the glamour.”
“Regardless, it’s too dangerous,” Barrett said. “If it was discovered among the Seelie that I sent a spy into a Laltog nest within the human realm, it would raise dangerous questions.”
“With Dillon,” Ivy concluded. “And if Dillon ever found out the truth…”
“That cannot happen,” Barrett said. “At least, not yet.”
The Game of Shadows. Lyric closed her eyes. The rest of Faerie may have progressed, but the Seelies were traditionalists, despite the progress Barrett had made. If the young prince ever found out he had a sister, he would invoke the right of the Game of Shadows—a battle of heirs that determined the true ruler. The sibling that survived by the end was the victor.
“What about me?” Ardan asked.
All heads snapped in his direction.
“You?” Barrett’s sneer reflected a complete lack of trust that had endured nearly two decades.
“Me,” Ardan said. “Think about it. It doesn’t involve any guards from the Seelie Court, and Fhaescratch has never set eyes on me before, to my knowledge. I would be unrecognizable even without the heavy glamour. I can get close to Felicity and reveal who I am through my association with you, Lyric, and Ivy, who she has already met. I can gain her trust when the time is right and see for myself what is truly happening in Lost Cove. My word should be proof enough.”
Relief washed over Lyric. Ardan was perfect for such a task. He was sneaky, manipulative, and, when the occasion called for it, merciless. The Unseelie darkness that shadowed his nature, coupled with the darkness he still carried from his time in the Shadowlands, would give him an edge over anyone else in either realm.
But Barrett and Ardan had a long history of jealousy that stemmed from competing for Ivy’s love. Even in death, Ivy had chosen Ardan. And Barrett didn’t like losing.
“This is my daughter,” Barrett said. “And there is too much at stake for me to trust her with you.”
Ivy sighed and moved toward him, taking his hand. “Bear, Ardan would never do anything to jeopardize your daughter. If any harm comes to Felicity, too many of us, my parents included, will be devastated. And Nan, my Nan, is with her. You can trust that he will succeed with this mission with no harm coming to anyone we care about, least of all Felicity.”
Lyric’s heart pounded. Ivy was right. Surely, Barrett knew that. Ardan lived to make Ivy happy, and hurting Barrett would hurt her.
Barrett unleashed a resigned sigh. “Fine. But know that I will happily gut you if anything happens to my daughter.”
Ardan smirked, his eyes narrowing. Lyric knew that deep down Ardan loved their rivalry, and his favorite past-time was antagonizing the Seelie King.
“I would expect nothing less,” Ardan said.
So, Ardan would infiltrate Lost Cove, investigate the human abductions, make contact with Felicity, and return with his findings. From there, they would present proof to the Council and make a plan.
Despite the ruling of the council, Ardan would get Felicity, Nan, and Raven out of that place before anything terrible could happen to them at the hands of Fhaescratch.
Chapter 12
Tristen couldn’t explain what Raven and Dante had heard in the forest.
He had been searching with Luca for the better part of two hours. Neither of them had found any sign of movement outside the normal sounds of the mountains. Then again, Raven and Dante were both fully human, not as much of a threat as the Laltogs, which tended to still the entire forest. They were the stronger predators, and the animals knew it.
They were deep into the trees that surrounded Lost Cove and had climbed two of the steep ridges that swallowed the community. He didn’t want to, but Tristen had to face the reality that it was probably time to shift. Laltogs could switch between their typical Fae form and a batlike form that enhanced their senses. But their Laltog form was typically reserved for missions in the human realm or for battle. If another Laltog detected they had shifted, it would serve as a sort of call to arms that would put them all on alert. And demand explanations about why they were searching the woods in the middle of the night.
“Are you sure they weren’t just imagining things?” Luca asked. “I mean, they’re humans. They’re vulnerable. It could have been a wild animal or something. A bobcat maybe?”
Tristen scowled. “Dante has been with us for a year and has never once made a complaint or claim, false or otherwise. And you know Raven. Do you really think she would lie?”
“I’m not saying she was lying,” Luca said. “I’m sure she was genuinely scared, but she’s only been here a couple of weeks. In a strange place among powerful creatures, it’s only normal for the mind of overreact.”
He had a point. And maybe Dante was overreacting because of Raven’s fear. It was clear they had strong emotional ties between them. Perhaps even t
he beginning stages of human love. It was only natural for Dante to feel protective of her if she was experiencing fear.
“But Dante heard it, too,” Tristen said. “He described the sound to me, and it didn’t sound like any of the animals that frequent Lost Cove.”
Bears were common, as well as coyotes and the occasional bobcat. But nothing would explain the non-animal, inhuman noises Dante had described to him.
“Well, our only other option is to shift,” Dante said. “It’s your call.”
Translation: Dante didn’t want to shift.
It was risky, but so was failing to exhaust every tool to find the truth. They might still find nothing, but they couldn’t just walk away. At least, Tristen couldn’t.
“If we don’t shift, and there is something out there we aren’t finding, and my father finds out?”
“Then, it’s both our asses,” Luca concluded.
With a shrug, he finally relented.
“You take west, and I’ll take east,” Tristen said.
Nodding, Luca closed his eyes and shifted into his Laltog form, flapping into the sky with barely a sound.
Tristen turned in the other direction and closed his own eyes, detaching from his logical and emotional Fae side, and tapped into pure instinct. His chest warmed, as he felt the familiar change ripple over him. His nose flattened. His ears elongated. His eyes itched as they burned to a fiery crimson. Finally, he felt the leathery wings burst from his back, tearing his shirt, and bound themselves to his outstretched arms. Unlike real bats, Laltogs could take flight from the ground since their legs remained in their Fae-like form, and their wings were stronger. Tristen sprinted forward and leapt into the sky, flapping higher and higher until he was above the trees.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the rhythms and vibrations of the forest, his senses alert for any echoes that didn’t belong. As a Laltog, all of his senses were heightened, even his night vision, but now, they were searching for something they had been unable to see. If he didn’t detect anything in this form, then there was simply nothing to find.
He dipped toward the trees, feeling the familiar vibrations of their natural movement. He detected all the echoes of what he expected from the forest. Rodents. Birds. Bugs. But as he neared the eastern border of Lost Cove, there was something more. He circled the treetops and released a bird-like chirp to alert Luca. Then, he folded his wings and dove. Wind kissed his face, and his heart dropped with the descent. Reaching out with his senses, he detected the perfect branch and folded his left wing. Twisting, he turned his feet toward the branch and allowed his body to relax. His feet snagged the tree and his claws extended, clenching in place for the perfect inverted landing. He folded his wings around his body and hung there, waiting.
There was movement. Lots of it.
Moments later, he detected Luca flapping closer and closer until he landed in a nearby tree, waiting. He reached out with his senses and followed the movement with his eyes. He could see nothing.
The minutes ticked by without incident.
It made no sense.
Finally, Tristen dropped from the branch, landing on his feet. Concentrating, he allowed the change to ripple over him once more. Tossing his shirt to the side, which had been shredded by his wings, he crept forward, padding across the ground in bare feet. He’d have to find his boots later.
“Do you feel it?” Tristen asked Luca, who had come to a stop beside him.
He nodded. “Do you think there’s something glamoured we can’t see?”
“But who would have glamoured something in the middle of nowhere like this? Felicity would have said something if my father had ordered it.”
“Maybe the glamour was in place before Felicity came here,” Luca suggested. “Your father instructed her to maintain all the existing glamours and wards, right?”
That was it. This area had been glamoured and heavily warded before Felicity arrived. But now she was maintaining it without even realizing it. Which meant she could drop the protections and reveal what they couldn’t see.
“Whatever it is must be huge,” Tristen said. “I’m completely blocked from it.”
“Me, too,” Luca said. “It’s the strongest glamour I’ve ever seen.”
But only the Magi, the most powerful Fae mystics with direct access to ancestral magic, could produce such strong glamours—and they would never work with Fae outside the Seelie Realm, let alone Darklings. And they never left their dwelling in the Halls of Divinity, located in the bowels of the Winter Court castle in the Seelie Realm.
Yet the Magi were the only thing that could explain a glamour so strong.
“We need to report this to my father,” Tristen said, turning.
Luca didn’t move. “Tristen, please know I mean no offense by this, but...what if your father already knows?”
Tristen’s stomach twisted in his gut, as he recalled King Fhaescratch’s warning.
There is nothing that goes on in Lost Cove that I don’t know about.
That changed everything, even his plan to involve Felicity. If his father had ordered these wards be put in place and then instructed Felicity to maintain them, asking her to remove them would place her at the mercy of King Fhaescratch and subject her to punishment.
Yet the vow his father had made with King Barrett prevented him from harming Felicity. But as Tristen knew all too well, there were other ways of keeping subjects in line without causing them direct harm. There was Raven and Nan to consider. And Tristen knew his father wouldn’t hesitate to use them against her.
“You’re right,” Tristen said. “Shit. I don’t know what to do.”
Luca gave him a familiar look, his brows wrinkling. It translated the mix of pity and admiration he had vocalized so many times before. Tristen was trapped, always trapped, between what was right and loyalty to his family.
Luca had just opened his mouth to answer when his eyes widened in shock. Tristen stared ahead, confused by what he was seeing. Luca’s back arched, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His face was a mask of surprise. Then, he fell forward, slumping to the ground.
Behind him, a tall girl dressed in brown fighting leathers held a blood-covered dagger and bared her fangs.
Tristen didn’t stop to ask questions. But somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he realized this was no ordinary Laltog. This was a human that had been turned. A true Laltog would have no need for blades.
He lunged toward her, dodging her swinging dagger and catching her wrist as he ducked beneath her arm. He straightened her arm and struck the pressure point behind her elbow, which loosened her grip on the dagger. When the weapon dropped to the ground, he kicked it away and used her trapped arm to take her to the ground.
But somehow, this girl, this turned Laltog, this vampire, had been trained. She recovered, rolling to her feet and into a crouch, glaring at him with blood red eyes.
“I can help you,” Tristen said, holding his hands out. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
That was a lie. Every instinct inside him screamed for her blood. But if he could take her to his father, confront him in private, they could figure out what to do. Tristen knew of all the darkness his father was capable of. It was recorded in their histories. But even Fhaescratch wouldn’t steal humans and turn them. Would he?
“I don’t want your help,” the girl hissed.
She pulled another dagger from her belt and lunged.
Shit, she was fast. And she was aiming for his heart.
He spun, the dagger grazing his chest. When the pain rippled through him, it was too late for her. His gums throbbed as his fangs elongated, and rage burned in his chest and traveled to his brain, deactivating the part of him that knew he should offer mercy.
He wrapped his arm around the girl’s neck as he spun and raised his arm. With every ounce of power he possessed, he plunged his fist through the fledgling vampire’s back, and ripped the still beating heart from her chest. Her body—and the heart he held—turned t
o ash before she hit the ground.
Chapter 13
Felicity was shaking.
And her head was pounding.
As she tore herself from a restless sleep, she realized her entire body was aching—and seriously uncomfortable.
Where the hell am I?
“Wake up, Felicity.”
Oh.
Nan was shaking her. And she was in the dining room. On the table. Memories of summoning her mother flooded her senses, reopening the deep, aching wound in her chest.
“The King has summoned you,” she whispered.
“What?”
“King Fhaescratch has summoned you to the main castle,” she said. “Prince Tristen is here to escort you.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Felicity looked down. She was still in her lame uniform, so at least she was wearing more than she had been the last time Fhaescratch had summoned her. Groggy, she slid off the table and slipped into her boots. Rubbing her face, she hobbled toward the door.
“Why were you sleeping on the table?” Tristen asked.
His face was a beautiful blur before her, as she blinked, still trying to wake up. “I was practicing for Samhain. What are you doing here?”
“Luca’s been injured, and we need your help.”
That woke her up.
Snapping into action, she rushed out the door and headed toward the Laltog castle. She’d never been farther than the main entry and the dining room, so when Tristen led her upstairs toward the royal hall where the elders and royals had their rooms, she grew more and more nervous. Her chest tightened, and her entire body felt like a bundle of exposed wires. Tristen took her hand and rounded a corner, hurrying down a lengthy hallway. The walls, she noticed, were covered in portraits and lined with stone sculptures that looked like demons or gargoyles. It was beyond creepy.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she whispered.
Tristen stopped abruptly and turned to her. He held her eyes with his own, his gaze so intense, she knew something terrible had occurred. Then, he brought his finger to his lips.