by Bekah Harris
Juliet leaned forward, squinting down at the page. “This one is dated toward the end of Eoin’s life.” She smirked, raising her brows. “Did you know the old King had an affair with Endellion?”
Lyric raised her chin. “I did not, but is there a royal out there who has remained faithful?”
Juliet frowned. “I can name at least one, and Padraic had better hope he’s never unfaithful, or I’ll gut him and force feed him his own entrails.”
“Apologies,” Lyric said. “I meant no offense. Things are different for you and Padraic, of course. No one...arranged your marriage. Yours was by choice and not by edict.”
Juliet shrugged, her anger fading. “You’re right, of course. I forget sometimes that you were so unhappy with King Dristan.”
Lyric smiled sadly at the memory of her fallen husband. Her parents had arranged the marriage before her birth, and she had married him at seventeen, as was expected of her. She had not loved him, but there had been times when their coldness toward one another had thawed into companionship. But for Lyric, there had only ever been Lochlan, who began his duties as her guard when she had turned fourteen.
“So, what does it say about them?” she asked.
“Oh, this is good,” Juliet said. “Listen. ‘The young Seelie temptress grows more and more unhappy with the cold marriage bed in the castle. King Torin does not lie with her but fancies instead the young Laltog Darklings that work in the castle. Tonight, she confessed to me that she sent her ladies out in order to discover the identities of his lovers and then held them captive and personally tortured them with hot iron that was sure to mar and scar their young flesh.’ ”
Lyric wrinkled her nose.
“Did you know that?” Juliet asked.
“I did not,” Lyric said, “but it does not surprise me. My own sister fell victim to both of their sadistic natures. Had I known, I never would have sent Alena to serve in their household.”
Rumor had it that Endellion had disposed of her own husband and claimed the throne as her own. It didn’t come as a shock that she would torture his lovers, though it did shed light on why the Darklings so hated the Seelie Court and, by extension, the entire Seelie Realm. There weren’t many nights that passed that Lyric didn’t regret not disposing of Endellion sooner. Their histories would be different for certain if Endellion had not remained in power for so long.
The hours passed in comfortable silence with only the turning pages of books and the occasional remark breaking through the quiet. Lyric’s eyes were growing heavy as she pushed aside a book, sliding a thin black ledger toward her. She wasn’t likely to find much interesting information in regard to Fae battles, but she was fading fast and hoped to get through this one before finally succumbing to her bed.
When she opened it and scanned the first page, though, a hopeful surge of adrenaline blitzed through her, eliciting a small gasp of surprise.
“What is it?” Juliet asked.
“It’s a record book,” Lyric said, scanning the second page. “It gives names of Darklings and details offenses and abuses by the Seelie Court authorities.”
“Frickedy Frack,” Jules said, pushing up from the table. She rounded the corner until she was looking over Lyric’s shoulder.
“Conlan, son of Rian, Laltog Ambassador to the Seelie Court,” Lyric read, “Scourged with iron flanked tails for suggesting the Seelie Court reopen negotiations with the Darkling leaders. Act carried out by the Queen’s personal guards.”
“That was the Laltog Elder that Ardan mentioned, right?” Juliet asked.
Lyric nodded. “So, his abuse was ordered by Endellion.”
She kept reading, moving her finger down the page until she found the name she was seeking: Erroll.
“Erroll, son of Darragh, condemned to three months starvation in the dungeons for speaking out of turn. Sentence carried out by the Queen’s personal guards.”
“I’m starting to see a pattern,” Juliet said. “I knew Endellion was a heartless bitch—I mean, look what she did to her son. But I never knew she was this bad.”
When Juliet first came to Faerie, Lyric’s own daughter, Ivy, had fallen in love with Barrett and he with her. But Endellion had sold him in marriage to Slaine, Felicity’s mother, an act which broke both of their hearts and destroyed their relationship. Lyric had betrothed Ivy to Ardan, but in so doing, she had ruined Barrett’s happiness. Even now, married to Laurel of Spring, she didn’t think Bear was truly content. In the end, Ardan had been the right choice for Ivy, and she loved her husband, but it was a wound that Barrett had never forgiven. And she couldn’t blame him.
“You were very young when you knew Endellion,” Lyric said. “You are still young. Fae live for centuries. Some are still here, like Fhaescratch, who have been since the beginning of our world. Over the years, if we aren’t careful, we grow bitter and cruel. Be always on your guard so that you never allow your heart to become so twisted.”
“Noted,” Juliet said.
Lyric continued to turn pages, scanning the entries, until she stopped at a familiar name. Or at least, it might be familiar. The ink was faded, the name blurred somewhat.
Daughter of Oisin, stripped of all clothing and marred bodily with a blade of iron for fornicating with King Torin. Punishment carried out by Queen Endellion.
Lyric squinted, trying to read the name. “Juliet, what do you think this says?”
Juliet leaned over, spelling out the letters as she saw them.
“Oh, no,” Lyric whispered.
“I’ll go get Padraic and Lochlan.”
Juliet burst into action, as Lyric stared down at the familiar name in disbelief. The humans had been taken to Lost Cove for deeper reasons than hostilities toward Fhaescratch.
It was about vengeance against the fallen Queen Endellion—and her entire line.
Chapter 22
Raven’s head lulled against the cold wall behind her, jerking her from sleep. Someone was coming. There was a rustling in the hallway outside the small room where they were being held, like someone shuffling across the dirt. Were they dragging in more humans to murder and turn?
“Raven?” Dante whispered. “Are you awake?”
His chains rattled as he shifted his weight in the darkness, searching for her. “Yeah, I’m awake.”
She reached toward him as far as her chains would allow, and he did the same. She extended her fingers, which could just graze Dante’s if they both splayed their hands. It wasn’t much, but any form of contact with him was comforting in the dark. Clothing rustled nearby, followed by the clinking of more chains, and Raven knew Alice and Campbell had been jostled awake by the same noise.
What time was it?
How long had she been asleep?
Was the creature in the corner still there, or had it been removed while they all slept? Raven had tried to keep her eyes open, but exhaustion claimed her as the dark room grew darker still, the splinters of light disappearing with the sunset.
Stretching out even farther, Raven managed to link pinkies with Dante, and they clung together, connected by their weakest digits as the footsteps grew louder and closer. With each thudding step, Raven’s pulse throbbed in her ears, accompanied by a high pitched noise that could only be explained by pure fear. Sweat dewed up on her forehead and palms, slickening her grip on Dante.
They both held on, even when Raven’s arm grew numb from the unnatural position forced by the chains. Finally, the door creaked open, and Raven’s breath lodged in her throat. She heard Alice whimper, the chains clinking as she shifted restlessly.
Judging by the moving shadows, there were two guards.
“The males,” one of them said. “I’ll get the hero. You get the other one.”
The footsteps moved again, and Raven could make out their shadows in the darkness. She squeezed her finger around Dante’s.
“Whatever happens, you have to get out of here,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll get out of here and don’t look back.”
Raven couldn’t speak, and she felt pressure built behind her eyes as heat spread through her chest and outward through her extremities. His finger jerked from hers as the guard pulled him away, unlocking the shackles from around his wrists. There was a loud shuffling, and Raven could feel the air stir as the guard hauled Dante to his feet.
Then, chaos erupted.
Pain exploded through Raven’s leg as something hard connected with her thigh. Fleshy pops landed in a staccato rhythm, accompanied by Dante’s strained grunts and the creature’s low growling. Chains rattled, and Alice screamed, the sound of it ripping through Raven’s brain and causing her to cover her ears. Something sailed past her, colliding with the outside wall of the barn with so much force, the wood splintered and broke apart. Moonlight streamed in, along with the cool night air. A large mass lay among the ruins, and though Raven’s thoughts weren’t connecting with her body, she knew in the far reaches of her consciousness that the still form on the ground was Dante’s broken body. In the moonlight, the figure strode past her. He was dressed in street clothes, wearing a jacket with the hood pulled over his head. He grabbed Dante by the collar of his shirt and jerked his body from the ground effortlessly. Then, he dragged him away from the barn, followed by another figure, this one female but tall and athletic. Without word or acknowledgement, she led Campbell by the arm through the hole in the wall.
Raven didn’t know how long it took her to find her voice in the aftermath. The rattling of chains was incessant, and she wanted the offensive noise to stop.
“Alice, be still,” she hissed. “I can’t think for the clinking of the chains.”
“It’s not me,” Alice whispered. “Raven, it’s not me.”
Slowly, Raven came back to herself. She didn’t know why she was shaking, but it was her hands, her whole body. Every inch of her was trembling, and making the chains rattle against the stone wall.
“I’m sorry,” Raven whispered. “But it’s okay. I’m okay. They’re going to be okay.”
“Raven,” Alice whispered. “Raven, take a deep breath. I think maybe you’re in shock.”
“No,” Raven said. “No, I’m okay. Everything’s okay. We’ll get out of here, and I’ll find Dante and you’ll find Campbell, and we’ll leave. We’ll get back to Lost Cove, and I’ll tell Felicity, and everything will be fine.”
“Shhh,” Alice said. “Don’t you see? No one knows where we are. No one will be able to find us. We’re only humans. I doubt they’ll even look.”
“Felicity will come for me,” Raven whispered. “Felicity will find us.”
“They’re going to turn us,” Alice said. “We saw too much, and now we know. They’ll turn us into vampires and force us to fight or die.”
“Shut up!” Raven shouted.
The tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now. Because Alice was right. Deep down, Raven knew why they had taken Dante and Campbell, and Raven and Alice would be next.
A stirring in the dark corner pulled Raven from her fears. She had almost forgotten the strange creature chained a few feet away. In the moonlight, she could see the hem of a black cloak.
“Who are you?” Raven asked. “Why are you here?”
Chains clattered, just as the clouds parted in the sky, washing the entire room in an eerie glow. Raven’s breath caught in her throat. Though its face was hidden completely by a black hood, pale hands with long, corpse-like fingers reached toward her with a deep groan of pain. The figure—a Magi, Alice had called it—was stabbed to the wall through its shoulders, pinned like a butterfly by iron daggers. The fabric of the Magi’s cloak was darker around the injuries, smoke drifting from the wounds with the acrid smell of burnt flesh.
“What have they done to you?” Raven whispered.
Pointing a finger at Raven, the creature began to speak, the sound of it like a specter from beyond the grave. Chills danced up her spine, adrenaline surging as she tried to concentrate.
Darklings fight for freedom lost
As human bodies reap the cost.
Laltog blood their blood replace
To make a brand new Darkling race.
Sides divide and war will harken
All the creatures whose souls are darkened.
But Seelie heir long undiscovered
Will take her place with crown recovered
And strife shall take, shall kill, destroy
Before prophecies give way to joy.
What must be shall be forevermore
Only by blood shall right be restored.
“What the hell does that even mean?” Raven hissed. “I don’t know what that means.”
The only answer she received was a stream of sinister laughter that gave way to a painful wet coughing.
“The Magi speak only in riddles,” Alice said. “They hold in their magic the knowledge of the future, which they freely share. But it is up to those they tell to decipher the message.”
“Then why did she speak to me and not you?” Raven asked.
“Perhaps it thought you would understand in a way I won’t. The Magi are never wrong. Think about what it said.”
Raven slumped hopelessly, the chains biting into her wrists. Closing her eyes, she replayed the words over and over in her mind. Bits of it could make sense if she were clear-minded enough to piece things together.
The first part obviously meant the new race being created when Laltogs turned humans. The unknown Seelie heir could be Felicity, except she wasn’t the heir. She was the discarded second daughter that was never supposed to live. But war and prophecy and blood? Raven was starting to believe all of those things were just regular occurrences in Faerie. Based on what she knew, she really couldn’t blame the Laltogs for ditching the place to form their own community.
She considered the Magi’s strange rhyme, the throaty whispers echoing through her mind until she was too overcome by worry and exhaustion to think anymore.
Chapter 23
Raven was in trouble.
Felicity knew it. She had felt it the moment she looked at the clock and realized Raven hadn’t come home, despite Nan’s assurances. And if she had been out with Dante, she would have left a note so they wouldn’t return from Evening Feast and worry about her.
She looked from Tristen to Nan to Ardan, waiting on one of them to say something useful. Fat lot of good they were.
“Well, obviously, she and Dante went back into the forest to investigate what they heard yesterday.”
Tristen held out his hand as if to touch her but pulled back. “Felicity, Raven was terrified yesterday. You saw her. Do you really think she would be in a hurry to go back there again?”
“Nan said she tried to skip school to go find me this morning,” Felicity argued. “I’m sorry, but none of you know Raven like I do. I don’t know why or how, but I know something’s very wrong. And so far, the only dangerous place I’ve encountered in Lost Cove is at the location of those wards. Now, you all are welcome to stay here and sit on your thumbs, but I’m going to find my friend. And where Raven is, I can pretty much guarantee Dante’s there, too.”
Ardan smiled, as if he were genuinely delighted someone was taking action. “Excellent point, Princess. But we can’t very well rush headlong into enemy territory without a plan. We need to figure out how to…”
“I know,” Felicity said. “We need to break the wards. And stop calling me Princess before I punch you in the face.”
“Hold on a minute, young Mage,” he said, smirking, “perhaps you have been going about this all wrong. Let’s assume that the wards have been created by one of the Magi—and if it’s our missing Magi, Eirinn, this will be even more true. No Fae, no matter how powerful, can bring the wards all the way down. But perhaps if you and I joined forces, we could do just enough damage to slip inside—a ripple, if you will.”
“The magic behind those wards knocked Felicity ten feet backward and rendered her unconscious for hours,” Tristen argued. “What difference are you going to make?”
Tristen threw his hands up, groaning.
“Can we get back to the point, please?” Nan asked.
“Very well,” Ardan said. “The point is that Felicity’s intent was to break down the wards entirely. But...with my Winter and Unseelie magic and Felicity’s access to all the elemental magic of Seelie, as well as that electric power that is purely Seelie, I think we can create a small tear in the wards, only large enough for us to slip through.”
Felicity unleashed an anxious breath. She wasn’t really looking forward to getting knocked out again, but maybe it was worth a try.
“And these are Laltog lands,” Nan said, perking up. “The wards on Laltog lands have to respond to a Laltog royal. It’s probably how Kyla is able to come and go. The blood of Erroll runs through her veins. If we added a bit of Laltog blood to the mix to strengthen the intention, it just might work.”
Felicity thought back to the ditch water and blackberry vine Nan often used to “sink teeth”, as she called it, into a magical working. Even without the aid of Fae royals, Nan’s workings usually seemed effective, as much as she’d always tried to deny it.
“We have to try,” Felicity said, looking at Tristen. “And if we can get inside, not only can we find Raven and Dante, but maybe we can discover once and for all who is behind this.”
Tristen scowled at Ardan, but nodded, as if against his better judgment.
Ten minutes later, Felicity had changed out of her two day old uniform and into the skinny jeans and combat boots she had been wearing the day she came to Lost Cove. As she hurried on alongside Tristen and Ardan, she pulled her sweater more tightly around her, the cold autumn wind biting through her.