by K. A. Linde
Kerrigan knelt to help Bayton to her feet. The woman was crying. “I didn’t know. She took me. I don’t know where Benton is.”
“It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “We’ll get you out of here.”
Kerrigan walked Bayton to the back of the stage. Twelve more half-Fae and humans were bound and gagged in a back room.
Kerrigan glared at Aisling with all of her fury. “Release their bonds. This is no longer necessary.”
Aisling’s mouth quirked up on the right side, and she crossed her arms. “Sure thing, honey.”
Kerrigan wanted to punch her in her perfect little nose. But she restrained herself, helping Bayton out of her binds.
“Help them,” she told Bayton and then took a deep breath and went back onto that stage.
Wynter was speaking, and Kerrigan hadn’t been listening. Something about Fordham’s return with the half-Fae with the power to save them. She didn’t explicitly say that they should be ruling—she should be ruling—but the connotation was clear. While the king reveled in his gluttony, everyone else suffered. Wynter seemed to think she could do better.
“That’s enough,” she muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”
Wynter shot her a look of pure wrath. So, she was also here for the spectacle. Well, not that surprising.
Kerrigan smiled in the most insufferable way possible. Mischief was in her nature, but she had a way of frustrating anyone with an ounce of authority.
Wynter whipped her head back to her waiting audience. She unclenched her hands and let a smile smooth over her serene features. “Let’s begin.”
Kerrigan thought they’d have to go back down to the surface, back to the spot that they’d ridden out to. But that was another one of Wynter’s performances. Getting Kerrigan out alone before confiding in her about what she knew, trying to make Kerrigan relate to her. She soon found out why this chamber had been chosen above all others.
“Aisling,” Wynter said, her voice dipping low at the sound of her assistant’s name.
Aisling stepped forward, pulled her hands to her body, squaring her hips, and then pushed out slowly. The chamber wall shifted, and suddenly, a wind whipped through the room. The wall was a large stone that filled the opening, leading to a rough balcony and the empty air beyond. It was pitch-black and a crystal-clear night, revealing the completely full moon.
The crowd gasped in amazement. Kerrigan had to admit that it was impressive.
Wynter stepped around Kerrigan and went straight to the opening. She raised her hand into the air, and it encountered resistance at the exit. The barrier had stretched taut over the opening to the outside so that no one could even enjoy the balcony beyond. It seemed a travesty for it to be right there and perpetually out of reach.
“Here,” Wynter said, drawing her hand down. “This is where there’s a breach.” And as she said it, her hand moved just a few more inches forward, as if the barrier could almost give under her palm. She smiled triumphantly. “Come. See for yourself.”
Kerrigan jutted her jaw forward and went to Wynter’s side. Fordham followed, looking none too pleased, but at the same time, interested. Like he hadn’t believed Wynter until that moment. No wonder she’d gained so many followers so quickly.
“What do I do?”
Wynter gestured to where her hand was on the wall. “You cannot see the magic, but its signature matches your own. A bright golden that shines like the sun. The crack is like a fissure in rock. A jagged edge in an otherwise clear film.” She took Kerrigan’s hand and pushed it against the place that she claimed was a rift in the magical barrier that had endured for nearly a thousand years. “Right here.”
Kerrigan closed her eyes, feeling the current of the thing. The wrongness of it. The perfectly rightness of it at the same time. A buzzing and zap against her skin, as if it recognized her. Or was warning her. She wasn’t sure which or if it was both. But it certainly gave off a very chilling vibe. She hadn’t liked coming through or touching it at all, if she were honest, but she was in too deep now.
But it didn’t feel any different. There wasn’t this mysterious gap that Wynter had claimed she could find. Even if her hand pushed through the barrier that was there to hold her in.
“Dig deep. Feel the part of yourself that is the same,” Wynter whispered beside her. “Like calls to like. Answer the call.”
Kerrigan furrowed her brow and pushed deeper in herself. She had no idea what she was doing. And frankly, she felt a little silly, standing with her hand in front of a barrier that she could walk through. But there was a smidgen of resistance right before she would push over, and she concentrated on that.
The resistance was like a jelly right before a fork pierced it—wiggly and amorphous. If she pushed, she’d cut the thing in half. But it was thin air. There wasn’t anything else to feel, except the occasional zap.
She gasped and pulled back. “It’s not there.”
Kerrigan wiped her forehead. She’d been concentrating so intensely that she’d begun to sweat and not even realized the strain.
“There you have it,” Fordham said. “Can you stop this charade?”
“You tried once,” Wynter said, ignoring her brother. “Try again. Really concentrate. I can see the break. I want you to feel it. To take it in your hand and rip it open from the inside. The spell will shatter around you.”
Kerrigan looked at her skeptically. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve been researching this wall longer than you’ve been alive,” she said calmly. Though her cool veneer was slipping as the crowd behind them whispered at Kerrigan’s failed attempt.
“Silence,” Aisling called before Wynter had to. “Give the girl another chance.”
“Go on,” Wynter said encouragingly.
Fordham shook his head. “You don’t have to do it.”
But there was a mob between them and the door. If she didn’t try again, they weren’t going to let her leave.
“I’ll try one more time,” Kerrigan said.
Fordham’s features hardened, and Wynter smiled triumphantly.
She ignored them both and held her hand back out, letting her eyes close and going to that place within herself where her magic settled. She reached into the well, and her magic answered bright and vibrant. She’d been careful not to use it here since Wynter’s proclamation in the woods. It answered her like a beacon home. Then, she put both of her hands in the empty space once more. She reached for that rip in the world that would set them all free. She breathed in sharply.
“Yes,” Wynter gasped.
She could feel it. She could feel exactly what Wynter was talking about. But it wasn’t a break from this side of the wall. It was crumbling from the outside in and not the other way around.
Kerrigan pulled back. Wynter argued behind her, and Fordham shouted right back, but Kerrigan wasn’t listening. She wasn’t done. She stepped through the barrier and out onto the stone balcony. A well of shouts followed her casual step across the barrier. Anger and excitement and fear, all a chorus that echoed through her brain. The expectations of so many people, all in one place.
“What are you doing, Kerrigan?” Fordham asked.
But she didn’t answer him; she brought her hand back up to that rift. Felt the seams of it wrap around her like a gentle embrace. There it was. This was the crack that Wynter had seen. A fracture years in the making. It was as if the spreading of the magic around the balcony had pulled it too tight. Like stretching pie dough to its absolute thinnest and praying to any god who would listen that it wouldn’t break.
Except here, she wanted to exploit that weakness and take the whole damn thing down with her.
Kerrigan leaned into it, took a deep breath, and then pulled her hand down. Nothing happened. The moment of anticipation popped like a bubble. She opened her eyes, deflated. It wouldn’t work. Not like this. And she didn’t know enough about this magic to make it work for her.
She opened her mouth to admit defeat when she fe
lt a tug on her magic. She jumped in surprise but couldn’t remove her hand from the barrier. It was as if the spell itself were alive. A bright, blinding light filled the space. The one that Wynter must have seen all along. Kerrigan could suddenly see the entire golden glow of the barrier in all of its glory.
It pulled harder.
Her eyes flew wide. She could hear Wynter’s panicked questions. Fordham tried to cross the barrier, and it refused him. He jammed his shoulder against the thing that had once let him out. His eyes were terrified. All of his fears realized once more.
The barrier sank its claws into her. She tipped her head back and screamed, collapsing onto the cold, hard balcony floor. Her vision went black at the edges. The last thing she saw was Fordham’s desperate attempt to reach her.
Then, everything went dark.
A girl stepped up to Cavour. Her wide, dark eyes looked at the empty village with pity. War had not been kind to the once-beautiful village. Dragon fire had destroyed nearly half the place in one go. Only the mountains had saved the people within, leaving the humans and half-Fae to fend for themselves against a war they didn’t want.
“I am sorry,” she said.
“Mei, are you sure?” a voice asked behind her. “These people… they don’t deserve this.”
“They don’t.” Mei whirled around to find a handsome young man before her. Her heart constricted.
Trulian had been the first to believe in her. His resistance meant that maybe even she had crossed the line.
“Can you even do it?”
She bit her lip and ran her hands back through her nearly black hair. “I don’t know, but what other choice is there? You know what they’re going to do if we don’t stop them. You were in the meeting, Tru.”
He glanced off to the mountains beyond her head. “This can’t be the answer. They’re monsters, but …”
“It’s the only way. I’ve seen it.”
“Seen it?” He frowned. “Again? You didn’t tell me.”
“Oh, Tru,” she whispered, all the secrets that lay between them clogging her throat. All the visions she never dared to tell him about as her mind shattered day after day along the campaign.
“Please,” he pleaded.
“Step back. I must work,” she said. “To save our very souls.”
And then, before Trulian could talk her out of it, Mei lifted her brown arms toward the tri peaks of the House of Shadows. A bright, blinding light built between her palms, and she unleashed.
“Kerrigan,” Fordham said, cradling her head in his lap.
He must have made it across the barrier after it disgorged her. Her eyes fluttered open. Everything hurt. Her magic was barely a flicker within her. She’d never had a vision like that before. Never known that she could glimpse the past and not the future.
“Ford,” she croaked.
“I’m here.”
“You did it!” Wynter cried. “You made the crack bigger. I can stick my entire hand through.”
And for the first time in a thousand years, someone other than Fordham Ollivier stuck their hand through the barrier wall.
“Let’s keep trying!”
Fordham ignored Wynter. “We’re going to get you to a healer.”
“Ford,” she repeated uncertainly.
How were they going to get back to the other side of the barrier and through the mountain tunnels? No one would let them pass. Just thinking of it hurt her head.
She heard a sound that was all too familiar. Wings beating on the wind. She turned her head and found Netta flying toward them. Fordham lifted her into his arms and carried her to his dragon, taking off without a backward glance.
13
The Plot
ARBOR
Arbor stepped forward out of the gloom of the chamber. Her bright blue eyes cast toward the dragon flying away from their home. Her cousin and their salvation strapped on its back. She dropped her hood, revealing the quintessential raven hair braided back out of her face.
“He stole her from us!” Wynter screamed, seething.
Aisling put a hand on her shoulder, the closest she would come to revealing the true nature of their relationship. But Arbor knew the thing that Wynter could not reveal to her court. How her heart longed for her bodyguard and attendant. Such things were not allowed in this court. Especially not of a royal.
“You were right,” Aisling said comfortingly.
“Of course I was right,” she snarled. “I can feel the night air. It’s coming down.”
Already, the carefully placed guards within the crowd were herding everyone out of the room so that no one would see Wynter’s meltdown. But not Arbor. Never Arbor.
“They’ll be back,” she said finally.
Wynter whirled on her, dropping her hand from where it’d crossed the barrier for the very first time. “And how can you be sure?”
Arbor lifted her chin, not bowing to Wynter’s moods. It was why she had first begun to keep her around. Everyone else complied with all of her madness. Her unruly tempers and tantrums and outrageous fits. She was a visionary—that much was certain—but with no one to temper that madness, to hone it into something valuable, she would fizzle before it could get anywhere.
Which was where she came in. “Because we’re still here.”
Wynter waved her off. “You think you and Prescott matter that much?”
She didn’t know, truthfully. Fordham was enigmatic on a good day, but their relationship meant something. “Yes.”
“Maybe,” Wynter acknowledged.
Aisling shot Arbor a narrowed-eye look. Arbor returned the look with an easy smile, sinking into her lush hip.
“I’ll write to him,” Arbor said. She had already planned to do so, but it seemed prudent to let Wynter think it was her idea.
“Yes,” Wynter said at once. “Use one of my birds to get the word out to him.”
“I’ll have to be careful not to mention you,” she said as if it were a second thought.
“Of course. Make it your own mind. We don’t want him to know that you work for me.”
With. With you.
Though she didn’t correct her. She never did.
“As you wish,” Arbor said. Aisling opened her mouth, likely to protest, and Arbor barreled over whatever she was going to say. “I’ll get with Pres now and figure out how to craft something in the morning once we’ve learned of their disappearance.”
“Thank you, Arbor,” Wynter said, reaching out and taking her hand.
Arbor forced herself not to recoil. Wynter was a means to an end—that was all.
“We all believe in your vision. I’m only your tool.” She bowed her head to the princess.
“Where would I be without you?”
Buried in her own mania, for certain. It had been Arbor’s suggestion to get all of this moving. To use Wynter’s influence to capitalize on the last month of unforgivable grievances against anyone who wasn’t titled. Arbor and Prescott had been all but forgotten in the melee of the trade drying up. They needed support for what they planned to do to right this wrong. Wynter had the influence and was influenceable on her own as well.
“We’ll never find out,” Arbor responded and then backed out of Wynter’s presence.
Her smile was feline as she sauntered down the many corridors, away from that cursed chamber. One arm through wasn’t enough. But it’d kindled the fire in the thousand who had shown up today for the demonstration. Whispers would follow, and many more would join the movement.
Arbor finally reached the York quarters and stepped inside. She pressed her back to the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Prescott stepped out of his adjoining chambers.
“Well?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“Is Rafael asleep?” she asked of his latest lover.
He had a long string of men and women who came to his bed.
“It’s Angelique tonight.”
She waved a hand. She didn’t remember when he’d given up with Rafi and moved on. �
��No matter. Are they asleep?”
“Yes. Long since.”
“Good,” she said and then stepped into his awaiting arms.
Prescott held her close. The way that no one else had ever held her. She pressed her nose into the hollow of his throat and smelled the sex on him. It didn’t bother her as it might have bothered others. It was just what her brother smelled like.
“Does she believe you?” he asked.
She nodded, pulling back from him to stare up into his matching blue eyes. “Kerrigan widened the break in the barrier, and then they fled. We’re to write to them on the morn when we discover them gone.”
“Clever. Your work. Not that incompetent princess, I assume?”
“Obviously.”
“You’re such a genius, sister.”
She beamed at his praise. She brushed a lock of his dark hair from his forehead. He grasped her hand in his and placed a kiss on the top, all gallant and gentlemanly.
“Now, the real work begins.”
14
The Healing
Kerrigan woke slowly, as if she were stuck in mud and trying to pry herself free. Her eyes were crusty, and she had to blink to clear them. Everything was blurry. And hurt. Gods, every inch of her body felt as if it had been beaten into a pulp. The last time she’d felt this, she had been assaulted. But she didn’t remember why she was like this now.
“You’re awake,” a voice said, the figure jumping from where they were seated and reaching for something.
It ended up being a glass of water, which Kerrigan choked down with a small cough. “Thank you.”
She winced as she wiped at her eyes and found Valia hovering over her. Valia was a steward of the Society. Not a full member, but not a citizen either. They worked with Society members for the rest of their days but of their own free will. Kerrigan had almost been one of them. She would have been if she hadn’t had a tribe claim her, if she hadn’t ended up winning the dragon tournament.