by K. A. Linde
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of this,” Wynter said and then set her hand upon the open air behind her.
There was a buzzing, and then her hand stopped. In fact, it was almost pushed backward. The buzz turned into a rumble, and Wynter retreated her hand from the invisible wall blocking her exit.
“The barrier,” Kerrigan said in surprise. They hadn’t traveled that far. They must have been much closer on the outskirts of the mountain rather than surrounding the village. “I didn’t realize we’d gone far enough.”
“It’s not a perfect circle. If it were, we’d have more space. It’s more like a corset, tightening the strings.”
“I don’t know how the wall has anything to do with me and Fordham.”
“Oh, nothing to do with Fordham,” Wynter said. “And there you go, using his given name.” She smiled as if she’d won that round.
“I …”
Wynter held up a hand. “Save it. I don’t know your game with him, but I don’t care. That’s up to my father.”
“Then, what am I doing here?” Kerrigan asked.
She drew her magic into her, anticipating the fight that was surely coming.
“Oh, none of that,” she said, waving her hand at Kerrigan. “You can let go. It’s so blinding.”
Kerrigan blinked. “You can see my magic?”
“Clearly. Please, drop it. Gods, how much do you have? You and Fordham together must be formidable.”
Kerrigan’s magic went out like snuffing a candle. She’d always had a little bit of the ability to sense other people’s magic, but that was only when they were actively performing magic. She certainly couldn’t see it like, apparently, Wynter could. She’d never even heard of such a thing. Sensing magic was rare enough. Seeing it would be a huge advantage.
“Thank you,” Wynter said. “You’re already bright enough without drawing on your reserves.”
“You knew the moment you saw me,” Kerrigan realized.
“Of course. My father keeps me as a silent weapon to judge his enemies. He sent me to judge your magical abilities.”
Kerrigan swallowed. “I see.”
“I told him what he expected. That you were a worthless half-Fae, bound to my brother.”
“Why?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. She couldn’t imagine that it was out of the goodness of her black heart.
“I see magic in color. Elementals are the easiest. Their affinity is shown in the color—blue for water, red for fire, yellow for air, and green for earth. The colors blend for multiple infinities. For instance, a fire and air user usually show up orange. For users with all four, they blend together. Arbor, for instance, looks pink at the edges. Fordham, with his inherited black smoke, has black and gray edges. But you …” She tilted her head at her. “You’re altogether different. You’re golden and as blinding as the sunlight. I’ve never seen this sort of magic anywhere else. Except here.”
She put her hand back out and touched the wall.
Kerrigan gulped. “The wall is golden?”
“Yes. Whatever sort of magic was used to put this barrier up, it was done by someone like you.”
Spirit magic. That was the only answer Kerrigan had and one she could never give Wynter. Her spirit magic gave her visions. It’d helped her win the tournament. It let her access the spirit plane as a dragon did—perhaps better than a dragon did. And if she didn’t learn to control it, she would go mad.
But that meant that all the lore about thirteen magical users coming together to put the wall up was a lie. No amount of magical users could do this. Which meant that a thousand years ago, another spiritcaster had existed, and they had bound all the House of Shadows within.
“Why are you telling me this?” Kerrigan asked.
“Like calls to like,” Wynter said.
She took Kerrigan’s hand and pushed it against the wall. A charge snapped against her hand. It made her jump in surprise, as if the magic really were speaking to her. And as she had the first time she’d touched the barrier, something was wrong. Something was intrinsically broken in the spellwork. She could almost see the edges of it, and then she was through to her elbow. The magic couldn’t keep her in, as it did to Wynter. Anger appeared on the princess’s face and then disappeared as quickly.
Kerrigan jerked her hand back out of the barrier. “What was that?”
“The walls are weakening. The thousand-year spell is fracturing at the edges.” Wynter stared, mesmerized by her jailor, before looking at Kerrigan. “And I want you to bring it down.”
10
The Court
Kerrigan’s mind was still reeling when she returned to the rooms. When she found Arbor and Prescott relaxing on the couch, eating out of a bag of chocolate treats, she jumped.
“Gods, don’t scare me like that,” Kerrigan said.
“Out riding?” Arbor asked.
Prescott grinned. “Wynter?”
“Yes.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Arbor said.
“What are you two doing here? Has Fordham been back?”
“He’s been tied up with princely duties,” Prescott said with a shrug. “Sounded boring. We promised to come entertain you.”
“I did bring bubbly,” Arbor said. She gestured to the bottle on the table.
“I’m in no mood to drink. Why are you always plying me with alcohol?”
Arbor dropped the perpetual smile, and Kerrigan saw the pain etched into her features for the first time. “Look, our cousin and best friend was exiled. There was nowhere to go or anything to do. We thought we’d never see him again. The only way to survive was to become as cruel and terrible as the rest of the court or to drink enough to not have to think about it.”
“You don’t have to have a drink,” Prescott said. “We thought at the party, you’d need to cope. And today, it’s more celebratory.” He tossed a piece of chocolate into his mouth. “You brought him back to us.”
“And happier than ever,” Arbor agreed.
Kerrigan relaxed at the words. She was on edge from her conversation with Wynter. At the implications in what she’d said. She didn’t need to take that out on Arbor and Prescott.
“Sorry. This place …”
Arbor waved it away. “We get it.”
“If anyone does,” Pres said.
“Chocolate?”
“Gods, yes.”
Kerrigan took a piece from Arbor and popped it into her mouth. She sighed as she sank back into the adjacent chair. It was like getting a special something from the chocolatier in the Square. She could never afford it, but sometimes, she along with Hadrian, Lyam, Darby would save up for weeks to buy a special piece of the famous chocolate and share it together. The stuff in the mountain was never quite the same.
“This is amazing,” she groaned.
“They have the good stuff at court,” Pres agreed.
“Can you tell me about Fordham?” Kerrigan asked, taking another piece.
Pres and Arbor shared a glance.
“What do you want to know?” Arbor asked.
“What was he like before the exile? Was he always so jaded?”
Prescott sighed, and Arbor shrugged. “Yes,” they said at the same time.
Then, they both laughed.
“Fordham was always his own person. In a way that his father hated. He wanted him to be a duplicate of himself. But the court, it wears you down. Day in and day out of constant hate, it’s debilitating. The only way to survive is to harden yourself. And Fordham had to be the head of it. He had to be cruel, invulnerable, and unyielding,” Arbor explained.
“He’s done things he’s not proud of, and it weighs on him. Despite growing up together, we’ve never really seen him relax.”
Kerrigan laughed softly. “So, he’s not much different then?”
“Oh gods, no. The outside world completely changed him,” Pres said. “That smile at the party last night—I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that in publ
ic.”
“Even in private,” Arbor said, flipping her dark hair off of her shoulder. “I don’t think it’s just the outside world. I think it’s you.”
Kerrigan shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Pres shared a secret look with his sister. “People he gets close to suffer the consequences. If he holds himself back, it’s for your safety.”
“I’ve heard the spiel.”
“But he’s not doing a good job,” Arbor said. “Not for someone who knows him.”
“Which means Wynter has noticed,” Pres filled in.
“And the king.”
“Great,” Kerrigan said. “Maybe we should open up that bubbly.”
Arbor laughed. “Now, you’re getting it.”
Kerrigan only had a glass. Just enough to put out the thoughts of what Wynter wanted her to do from her mind. She couldn’t share that with anyone yet. Not without deciding whether or not it was a good idea or if she could even do it. If it was possible, would she be a hypocrite for fearing what would happen if she let loose the House of Shadows? She could get Ben and Bay, and Arbor and Pres out of this hellhole, but she’d unleash the House of Shadows hate upon her world too. She wished Wynter had never come to her.
Arbor and Prescott kept up an endless litany of trouble they had gotten into with Fordham when they were growing up. She hadn’t laughed this much in a while. It was nice to sit and listen to these stories, all while they polished off the rest of the bottle.
“So, there he was, in the treasury, half-hidden behind a statue of the first dragon rider, Irena, and his father walked into the room.”
“No,” she gasped.
The door banged open just then, and all three of them jumped at the sound. Fordham stepped inside with all the force of a tempest. The hinges creaked as he slammed the door shut behind him. He ran a hand back through his perfect black hair. Then, he found Kerrigan seated with his two cousins.
“Rough day?” Pres joked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growled and then stormed into the bedroom. The door rattled on its hinges again.
Arbor and Prescott cringed. “Gods.”
“His father?” Kerrigan guessed.
They nodded.
“We should probably go,” Arbor said. “Come hang out with us later. We’ll show you that this place isn’t all terrible.”
Arbor brushed a kiss to her cheek, Pres winked at her, and then they disappeared silently through the door.
Kerrigan rose to her feet. She could leave Fordham to brood by himself, but after the conversation with Pres and Arbor, she didn’t want to. She wanted to find the Fordham that they’d told her about. The one who hadn’t yet been beaten down by his own court and expectations. Even if last night still weighed on her.
She knocked lightly on the door. “Fordham? May I come in?”
There was a heartbeat of silence before a resigned, “Yes.”
Kerrigan pushed the door open and found him shirtless with the laces of his pants undone. His muscled back was etched out of marble, and she had to swallow and glance away from where he stood with the wardrobe doors open.
“What happened?”
“My father is a bigot.”
Kerrigan almost laughed. “Well, yes.”
“He’s refusing you an audience.”
“I’m not surprised, Fordham. You weren’t even sure that he’d see you when you came back. Now, you’re the triumphant hero with a foothold in the Society for him. Do you think he wants to see you as someone who is friends with a half-Fae when he can use you for everything else?”
“I’m aware of my father’s machinations.” He threw a loose white tunic over his head. She’d never seen him in anything but black, and it was almost disconcerting. “I thought he’d want two dragon riders in his court. I thought his prejudice would be set aside for his love of power.”
“I threaten his power,” Kerrigan said. “You have to see that.”
Fordham ran another hand back through his hair. “About last night …”
“You know, let’s not. It was a mistake on both of our parts,” she said quickly. “I’ve already forgotten about it.”
He pursed his lips, as if he knew she was lying. Because she had hardly forgotten the taste of him or the press of his body against hers. Or the way he’d reacted to his ex’s name.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked.
“I have to complete my duties as prince while I’m here. I will keep trying with my father. You should spend time with Pres and Arbor. I trust them.”
“I went riding with Wynter,” she confessed.
“Be careful with her, Kerrigan. She isn’t like other people.”
“Don’t you think I know that? She can see my magic. You should have warned me.”
Fordham raised his eyebrows. “She can what?”
“Surely, you knew. She’s your sister.”
“Wynter can sense magic, but you haven’t used any magic. I also have the gift. I would know.”
“No, she can see it. And she took me out to the wall and said that I can bring it down.”
Fordham actually looked shocked. “She… what?”
“She said my magic is the same as the barrier and that I can take the walls down.”
“Can you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t try.” Kerrigan bit her lip. “Should I try?”
“No,” he said at once. “Not under her tutelage at least.”
“I want to help the people here,” she said. “The people who are trapped.”
“But look at what you would be unleashing,” Fordham said. “This court is… it’s not fit for the outside world.”
“I know.”
He shook his head. “Do you think this has something to do with your spirit magic?”
“It must, but I didn’t tell Wynter that. I’m not stupid.”
“Good.” Fordham furrowed his brow. “She told you all this for a reason. I’m going to have to dig into it. I’ve heard whispers since I got here, but I was worried too much about us and not what she was up to.”
“Whispers?”
“That she’s recruiting from all three families.”
“For what?”
He jerked the white shirt off and went back in for black silk. “I’m going to have to find out, aren’t I?”
“I’m going with you.”
Fordham considered it for a moment. She was sure that he was going to object. He’d done nothing but leave her alone in this terrible room.
“You’d follow me anyway, wouldn’t you?”
She smirked. “At least you’re getting it.”
“Get dressed. I have an idea.”
“You sound like me,” she teased.
He assessed her. Some of the coolness bleeding out of him. “You’re rubbing off on me.”
An hour later, Kerrigan was finally let out of the room for more than getting dressed and a supervised ride. Fordham smiled at courtiers milling about the court hallways. He seemed to know everyone and wanted to be seen by everyone. She thought it was mad to be so visible, but he’d argued it was better cover to have everyone talking about them. Especially since his father hadn’t seemed keen on changing his mind about Kerrigan.
After the third promenade of the court’s halls, Fordham finally said, “That’s enough.”
“Thank the gods. How was I ever going to be a princess?”
He glanced down at her and then away quickly. “I thought you did well.”
“I know how to behave,” she said, nudging him. “I just don’t enjoy it.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then, let’s go make trouble.”
“You are a devious little thing, aren’t you?”
Kerrigan smiled at him, enjoying the camaraderie. This was easier than what they’d been dealing with since that fateful kiss… since coming here.
Fordham turned a final corner, passing through a large stone archway and then down a narrow corridor. “He
re,” he said, pushing a button. The wall in front of them disappeared.
Kerrigan gasped. “Hidden tunnels?”
“It’s a spy network,” he said, ushering her inside. “They were used before the Great War to spy on diplomats and foreigners who came into our mountain.”
“Also to spy on your own people, I’m sure.”
The door slid shut soundlessly behind him, and he snapped his fingers to ignite a flame. “Still used for that. Though far fewer uses than before.”
Fordham moved through the spy tunnels with a practiced ease. She’d known he was a soldier and a spy, but it was one thing to know and another thing entirely to live through it.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
He put a finger to his mouth and then gestured to the right. She trailed him until they came up to a small peephole. He lifted a piece of stone and peered into the room beyond.
“This is Wynter’s room,” Fordham told her. Her eyes widened. “We used to use these halls when we were younger. But they seem unused.”
She had to agree. Cobwebs lined the darkened halls, and she had definitely stepped in something that she didn’t even want to know what it was. The air was musty. The few torches they’d passed on the way looked as if they hadn’t been lit in years.
“We’ll have to be quick. She takes afternoon tea with the queen at this time, but I don’t want to chance her return. Look for anything that seems wrong. Anything that would explain why she’s recruiting.”
Kerrigan nodded. Her stomach was in knots. “I’m ready.”
Fordham pressed another button, and the door swung inward. Kerrigan stepped into Wynter’s immaculate bedroom. The king canopy bed was all a pristine white. The writing desk had not a thing out of place. Everywhere Kerrigan looked, she saw wealth and meticulous attention to detail. The bedroom door had been left open, and she could see a matching sitting area with pecan furniture and white-as-snow cushions.
“I’ll start in her sitting area,” Fordham said. “Look through her bedroom. And don’t move anything out of place.”
Kerrigan nodded. She hurried over to the writing table. She memorized exactly where everything went first and then began to ruffle through the papers. Wynter had hand-lettered stationery with a swooping W at the top. The letter was everywhere—embroidered onto handkerchiefs and pillows and the stamp for her wax seal. But she found nothing out of place on the desk. She dislodged the drawers, rifling through them, opening a few letters and reading the mindless missives. They were all placed there, almost as if she had expected someone to go through her things.