by E. A. Copen
Remy frowned down at where he’d gripped her wrist. “I’ve executed men for less.”
“You won’t hurt me. You need me. And if anything happens to my little sister, I’ll be gone too.”
She ripped her hand away, glaring at him. “If you want to keep that hand, keep it to yourself,” she snapped and stormed out of the feast hall with her handmaiden at her heels.
Chapter Six
“That was a disaster.” Remy dumped her crown on the vanity and tore the pin from her hair before shaking out the curls.
Jess stepped forward to help unlace the back of her dress. “It could’ve been worse.”
“I don’t see how. Now, what will I do with that girl? Cian won’t stand to have her roaming free in the palace, and if I put her under guard, it’ll look like I’m protecting her from my own people. If I lock her in her room, Finn will refuse to help. There’s no right answer!” She shrugged off the dress and collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh. “Oh Jess, why did I ever think this was a good idea?”
The bed bounced as Jess sat down next to her. “Because it is a good idea. No one knows Shadow better than someone from Shadow. Sir Malcom’s expeditions haven’t been able to penetrate deep enough into Shadow to find the root cause, and if we don’t destroy the blight, all of us will be dead. It’s not your fault the rest of them can’t forget about what happened years ago.”
“Cian should’ve kept his mouth shut. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“He’s always been like that.” Jess shrugged. “After everything that’s happened in the past, Shadow has fallen out of favor with every court. Everyone looks down on them. It’s practically fashionable to speak ill of anyone still clinging to their lineage in the Shadow Court. This blight and all the refugees are only going to make things worse. There are people all around the palace who think we should forcibly remove the protesters from the gates, Remy.”
Remy sat up and met her friend’s eyes. “I’d never allow that. They have the right to be angry, even if I don’t agree with them.”
Jess smiled and put a comforting hand on her arm. “I know that. I also know that attacking our own people is a fast way to lose your head.”
“That’s just the problem,” Remy said, standing. “No one here sees the refugees as our people. They look like us, talk like us, bleed like us, but they will never be us. Not unless I do something. I just wish I knew what to do. This was all simpler in grandmother’s time.”
Remy ran her fingers over the portrait of Titania hanging on the wall. Titania had been a monster at the end who didn’t care at all about her people, but there must’ve been a time when she did. After the first Shadow War, she made peace by marrying Kellas, one of the dukes from Shadow. It used to be the fastest way to patch things up. Find some B-list royal and marry him to placate both sides. People would have something to celebrate and they would forget at least some of the bitter feelings from the previous conflict.
But with Shadow in shambles, the people on the run and no clear line of succession, it was impossible to do that. Even if she could, Remy didn’t think she would. Married life just didn’t appeal to her. No man she had met seemed worth shrinking her cage for, and that was exactly what would happen if she married. She’d have to share everything, even the throne. It was hard enough for her to manage advisors. Adding a consort to the mix would make things even more difficult.
Three loud knocks came on the door to the sitting room.
Remy turned away from the painting and jerked a robe down from where it hung on the wall, hurriedly sliding it on. “Go see who it is.”
A second later, the door slammed open and Finn shouted, “Where is she?”
Not again. She’d just managed to get decent when he stormed into the bedroom.
“You.” Finn clenched his fists and took a step toward her. “Where is she?”
“Where is who?” Remy gripped the hem of her robe tighter and took a step back.
“My sister. I just overheard a couple of guards saying they’d caught her going over the garden wall. She was taken away in chains. A little girl! She’s six, Remy. Six!” He took another step.
Remy took a deep breath and forced herself to hold her ground. I can’t look weak, not in front of him. “I didn’t order that.”
“I don’t believe you.” Finn took another step.
Suddenly, there was a knife at his throat from behind. “Go ahead and take another step toward her,” Foxglove warned. “Give me an excuse.”
“Don’t.” Remy shook her head. “Stop it, both of you! I’m tired of breaking up fights all the time! Foxglove, why are you here?”
The knife moved away from Finn’s throat by a few inches. “I just assumed... I mean, I thought you’d want me to follow him. When I realized he was headed here, I got worried.”
“Did you ever think to ask him why he was so angry?”
Foxglove was silent. He pulled the knife away and took a step back.
“And you!” Remy gestured to Finn. “Did it ever occur to you that barging into my private room is not the way to get what you want? If the wrong guards had been standing out there, it might’ve gotten you killed! It almost did!”
Finn crossed his arms. “I want my sister freed.”
She sighed. “Foxglove, find Auryn O’Leary and bring her to me. Pass the order that she is to be guarded and treated as an extension of my person, not detained or harmed in any way. Is that to your satisfaction, Finn?”
“I guess,” he mumbled.
Foxglove nodded and rushed from the room, his face red.
Remy adjusted her robe. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was about to have a bath.”
A scream from the courtyard cut through the air, high and shrill. The hair on the back of Remy’s neck stood on end. She turned her back to Finn and rushed to the balcony overlooking the garden, arriving just in time to see a large, black shape rush through the gate.
“Something tells me your bath is going to have to wait, Highness,” Finn said before taking a step back.
“Where are you going? I haven’t dismissed you.”
Finn turned and broke into a run, shouting from the doorway, “To find my sister!”
Remy stepped away from the balcony and grabbed her sword from where it hung on the wall. She unsheathed the blade partway to find a distorted version of her own reflection staring back at her in the polished fae metal.
“You should put on your armor at least.” Jess rushed to the cabinet where Remy kept it tucked away. She knew better than to try and talk Remy out of fighting after so many years.
More screams erupted in the palace below, screams that didn’t sound like fae. What was that thing and how had it gotten past all their defenses? Surely if they were under attack, her scouts would’ve spotted it.
Remy pulled the sword free and cast aside the scabbard. “There’s no time. Bar the door, Jessica, and don’t open it for anyone but me.”
The queen rushed from her quarters and into chaos in the stairway. The castle guard had mobilized to engage the intruder, but from the shouts of conflicting orders echoing through the halls, no one seemed to know from what direction he was coming. One captain had ordered his troops into the courtyard while another directed his men to the feast hall. Sir Malcom was supposed to be commanding them. Where was he?
She reached the bottom of the stairs and slid on a puddle of blood, barely managing to keep herself upright. To her right, bodies littered the hall. Soldiers, servants, noblemen... Whatever had sliced through them didn’t care who it cut down. Remy knelt by a soldier that was still moving. He was lying in a pool of blood with three deep gashes in his breastplate that cut to the bone. It looked like something with huge claws had sliced right through it, which was impossible. That armor was enchanted. Even the sharpest spear would bounce right off.
The soldier’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. His eyes widened and he reached for something only he could see before his arm dropped and his body went s
till. Remy stood, all too aware of the weight of her sword in her hand. If this was what it was capable of—whatever it was—then they stood absolutely no chance against the invader.
A child’s terrified scream shook her from the shock. It’d come from nearby. Remy shifted her grip on the sword and ran toward it. Maybe she didn’t have armor, but she had something better: her father’s magic.
The corridor around the corner was just more of the same. Puddles of blood, bodies cleaved near in two, the anguished cries of the dying. Remy forced herself to rush by them without stopping to look. There wasn’t anything she could do for the dying, but perhaps she could assist the living.
The throne room waited at the end of the hall, the huge doors torn from their hinges and tossed aside as if they were toys. Remy rushed by them and stormed into the throne room to find the stones painted with more blood and streaks of shadowy black. One of the creatures she had seen come over the wall loomed ahead, just a short distance from the throne. It was huge, easily twice as tall as the tallest person she had ever met with black, membranous wings. Its head was that of a horse, bearing no eyes and no mouth, with the horns of a ram. Elongated goat legs, complete with cloven hooves, stomped over the bodies of fallen guards while the long tail of a lizard whipped back and forth, tipped in a sharpened barb.
Before the creature, huddled in the throne, was Auryn. She’d dragged away one of the guard’s swords, which was far too big for her to hold, and fought with trembling hands to try and lift it. Brave, but foolish. She should’ve run. Instead, the girl sat frozen with eyes wide with terror as the monster closed on her.
Remy knelt and picked up a piece of one of the fallen lamps near the door and threw it, striking the creature in the shoulder. The shadowy monster whirled around, its eyeless face seeming to focus on her.
She readied her sword and kept her gaze on the monster. “Auryn, run!”
The monster slithered toward Remy, faster than a living creature had any right to move. Black claws slashed. Remy swung her sword, barely fast enough to deflect the blow aimed at her head. The creature’s tail whipped around to stab her in the back, but Remy spun out of the way, slashing at its exposed upper thigh. Her sword slid right off as if the monster wore armor.
Even armor has its weakness. I just have to find his. She deflected another clawed strike and jumped out of the way as it kicked at her with its hooves.
It lashed out at her again and again, right claws, left. No reprieve. All she could do was block the flurry of attacking blows and hope the girl came to her senses and ran. The creature slashed again, but this time Remy surged forward. Her sword glided off the monster’s chest, but she got close enough to grasp it by the upper arm. With a shout, the Summer Queen sent a pulse of deadly magic down into the monster, magic she had used to kill immortal fae and humans alike with little more than a touch. Nothing had ever survived her power once she unleashed it on the living.
But the creature before her was different. Rather than pummel into it, seeking out the source of its life essence to destroy, the creature’s body seemed to swallow her power like a giant void. Nothing happened. Though it had no mouth, she got the distinct feeling the creature was grinning at her.
Its tail suddenly snapped around her neck and tightened like a noose. Remy tried to hack at it, but it was no use. She couldn’t penetrate its thick skin. The tail tightened around her neck. Her sword clattered to the floor and she tried in vain to loosen the creature’s grip with her fingers. Black spots danced in her vision. Her chest ached with the need to draw breath.
This is how I die, my throat crushed by a faceless monster in my own throne room.
The monster leaned in closer only to suddenly reel backward as a miasma of deep purple surrounded its body. Its tail unwound, letting Remy tumble to the floor, gasping desperately. What the hell had just happened? Why would it suddenly let her go? And what was that purple light?
She realized only a moment later that her entire body was buzzing with the pull of magic, but it wasn’t her magic. This was foreign, different yet somehow familiar. She lifted her hand in front of her, staring at the faint outline of pulsating red magic around her. What was going on?
A blue tendril of magic shot past her head and snapped around the arm of the creature. It reared again and tried to pull free, but the magic held it long enough for another strand to reach out and capture its other arm. She turned to find the most unlikely of people had suddenly come to her aid.
Finn O’Leary stood in the doorway, surrounded in the same blue glow of magic that he had lashed out at the monster only moments ago, hands outstretched. Magic surrounded him, rolling and swirling like a cistern being drained. Yet when it touched the creature, it changed from blue to purple.
“Get away from my sister, you faceless fuck.” He closed his hands around one of the tendrils of magic connecting him to the monster and tugged on it. The creature stumbled, its feet suddenly pulled out from beneath it.
Remy shivered as she felt another foreign tug on her magic.
The creature’s body twisted as it fought the bonds holding it, but Finn held it tight, his arms trembling with the effort. With a frustrated growl through clenched teeth, Finn jerked each strand of magic in opposite directions, somehow ripping the shadowy assassin in two, straight down the middle. It tumbled to the floor and exploded into a whirlwind of black ash that fell on the room like snow.
The magic buzzing around Remy faded and she staggered to her feet. She picked up her sword and turned to Finn. Her neck still ached, but things could’ve been a lot worse.
Auryn abandoned her sword and practically flew across the throne room into Finn’s arms, sobbing.
“It’s okay,” he said, drawing a hand over the back of her head. “You’re okay.”
“Thank you,” Remy offered. “I am in your debt, Finn.”
Normally, she wouldn’t acknowledge such a thing, but the weight of the debt was already there, tugging at the edge of her consciousness. Finn had saved her life. The debt she owed him would be enormous, nearly impossible to repay.
He nodded an acknowledgement before doubling over, panting and still trying to catch his breath.
“Your Highness!” Sir Malcom limped into the room. He looked around, squinting at the carnage and ash around the room.
Foxglove pushed past the older fae, sheathing his sword. He went straight to Remy, grabbing her by the shoulders and looking her over. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine in no small part thanks to Finn’s timely arrival.”
Something in Foxglove’s face changed. His shoulders sank slightly. He seemed to realize for the first time he’d committed a taboo by touching her, a crime punishable by lashing had anyone else committed it. The knight let her go and took a step back before turning to Finn with an appraising look. “What happened here?”
“The men report seeing a huge monster,” Malcom said limping past Finn. “They claim it was made of darkness with the wings of a bat and cloven hooves. Hard to say. Almost no one got a good look at the thing.”
“That thing was a Nightclaw.” Finn picked his sister up and strode forward. “I warned you there was more to this blight than black vines and dead land. The Nightclaws were the first heralds of the invasion that destroyed my home.”
Auryn whimpered and hugged him tighter around the neck.
He patted her back. “I’d rather not talk about it in front of her. These aren’t pleasant memories for either of us.”
Foxglove nodded. “Of course. She should get some sleep. Poor girl, it’s been a hard day for her. I’ll post some extra guards in the guest quarters.”
Remy handed her sword off to him. “The only way to the guest quarters is to wade through corpses, Foxglove. I won’t have anyone taking a child through that. We can take her up the back stairs, through the passageway.”
“But the passageway leads to your quarters.” He shifted to face her.
“Exactly,” said the queen, noddi
ng. “I want the guard on the royal chambers tripled, and a pair added to the passageway on patrol. Finn, you and your sister will sleep under the protection of my personal guard.”
Foxglove moved closer and whispered. “Remy, I don’t think that’s proper. You barely know him. Giving a pair of Shadow fae unfettered access to your private rooms isn’t wise.”
“He saved my life.” She looked past Foxglove to where Finn stood, combing his fingers through Auryn’s messy hair. “Whatever that thing was, my sword couldn’t pierce it. When I tried to use my magic against it, it was like staring into the deepest, darkest pit threatening to swallow me whole. I was dead. And he just...ripped it apart. I’ve never seen or felt magic like that.”
“All the more reason to be careful, at least until we know what we’re dealing with.”
She turned her gaze on Foxglove, forcing an icy tone into her voice. “Are you certain it’s my safety you’re so concerned about? Or is it the space in my bed that has you so upset?”
“This isn’t about that and you know it.”
Remy lifted her chin. That was exactly what it was about. Foxglove had perceived Finn to be some sort of threat to his imagined place at Remy’s side, the place he had given up to serve her father on Earth instead. He had abandoned her and now he was concerned? This had to stop before it went too far. “Let me be perfectly clear, Sir Foxglove. Who I choose to spend my time with is none of your concern. I need your sword and your loyalty, not your misplaced concern. Do I have it or don’t I?”
He took a step back as if she’d slapped him. “Of course, Your Majesty. Always.”
“Then triple the guard as you were instructed. Finn, Auryn? This way.” She gestured for them to follow her and left Foxglove teetering behind her.
Chapter Seven
Auryn was asleep by the time Finn put her down. The queen insisted she go in her bed, which was a giant, canopied monstrosity soft as a whole heap of cotton. Auryn would’ve been excited if she weren’t so worn out. Finn tucked her among the pile of pillows and tugged the featherlight blanket up under her chin. She stirred a little as he brushed aside some of her hair, but didn’t wake.