“I am yours,” Eildh repeated. “And I will keep you safe at any cost.”
Eilidh meant those words as surely as she’d meant it when she said she would kill for her loved ones. The earth was beloved to her as well.
The queen’s rage had been at the loss of her child. So many people—fae and human alike—forgot that before the rage was the fear. Fae were connected to the elements, and humanity had been destroying nature. Eilidh understood that.
Earth and sea called her, and she couldn’t find the words to make those instincts comprehensible. The best she could do was to kiss Torquil and hope that her touch made sense in ways that words didn’t. She tugged him to her, and let the instincts of nature reign over them both until he pulled away.
“We can’t,” he whispered. “Not here. Not in this world.”
Eilidh swallowed, trying to ground herself in this world, but more and more she felt like earth and sea had sway over her in a way that grew stronger whether she willed it to or not. “I need to . . . go.”
Torquil nodded.
“I will come back,” she added, feeling the waves in her words. “The sea needs me.”
He stared at her, as if there were questions she could answer but with every moment, she felt less anchored in the body she wore. She was salt water and current; she was vine and soil. The body was the form that held it, and right now, the sea was calling her.
Without another word, she turned and ran until there was no land, only a smooth slide of soil and sand. She leaped, and the waves surged up and plucked her from the air. Eilidh was barely airborne before she was rolled under the surface, and the shimmering song of water dancing took her every worry away. Here, things were right. Here, her emotions were washed away.
Wave after wave drank her worry and fears. Droplet after droplet carried them away. No one would take her family from her; no one would stop them from coming home where they could be safe. The sea would serve her until she needed soil to anchor her.
thirty
LILY
In the main building at St. Columba’s, the stone floor under Lily’s bare feet spoke in heavy slow words, telling her that she was safe here. It insisted that there was no need to speak with the leafy things when rock was here for her. Stone could rise, could lift at her word and will, could terrify these people who had no fae blood.
“You are kind,” Lily said carefully to the stone, speaking in a voice inside her where only things of the earth could hear.
Shattering the floor of the school seemed an extreme way to make her first statement, too bold by far. She was fae-blood, but she was her father’s daughter first. Abernathy Commandment #7: Secrets are valuable. Don’t part with them for free. If she was going to be outed not only as something illegal, but as the daughter of the missing heir to the Hidden Throne, she wasn’t going to reveal the full extent of her strengths. She hoped not to need them, but she might.
“Stay as you are in this moment. Stay whole,” she spoke to the stone. “I don’t want their fear, and you are too much for them to understand.”
She sent her continued words of gratitude to the stone that hummed under her feet. Their words had never been so clear. Talking to them used to require touching them with bare skin, but since she’d donned the crown, will and word were enough. Ever since her trip to the Hidden Lands, she’d had a better ability with all of her affinities, but it still astounded her that she could hear and speak so freely to earth and sea, that she could still the air and summon fire. The reason for that improved skill, of course, could be as simple as that she was using her affinities more often or that she’d admitted things to herself that she’d not even known before. Or, it could somehow be the queen’s doing. There were several possibilities, and Lily wasn’t sure which was truth. She didn’t even know if she wanted to be sure.
What she did know was that she wanted to make a statement here to the assembled crowd. She’d had no real warning, no proper time to prepare for the future. The queen had determined that today was the day that Lily would be exposed. Lily hadn’t been consulted.
The news was full of attacks by fae-bloods.
Lily herself had been photographed at the fire that destroyed the Row House.
And now she was to be exposed as a fae-blood, no longer just the daughter of a criminal but also the granddaughter of the being who terrified almost everyone in the human world.
Lily would start the statement on her own. Her hand dropped to the hilt of the sword hanging at her hip.
Abernathy Commandment #5: Be bold.
As the stone reassured her that it understood her wishes, Lily called out to the vines that clung to the walls in the foyer of the building. She’d paused and touched those many tendrilled plants every day, drawing comfort at their presence within the building. Now, at her request, long green vines shot out, growing, uncoiling, releasing the walls where they clung and lashing out to grab the doors.
Gasps and murmurs rose behind her. A few screams twisted into the growing noise. She hadn’t been here long enough to earn anyone’s trust, and her familial name had always heralded trouble. This—her fae ancestry—could only confirm whatever suspicions she’d already elicited: Lily Abernathy was someone to fear.
Without thinking long on it, she used the vines to jerk open the doors and hold them fast. Sunlight and air spilled into the hall. More than a few students and faculty took advantage of those yawning doors, fleeing into the world outside as if being in nature would make them safer. Lily meant them no harm, but if she had, they were reacting exactly the wrong way.
Even after literal lifetimes of war with the fae, of imprisoning and killing them, of films speaking of the “faery menace,” of songs romanticizing them, humanity was still as clueless as when the war had begun. The fae were aligned with varying elements, and short of technology’s vile weapons, they were unstoppable when they had nature at hand. The only thing that had saved humanity from the true horror of the queen’s rage was that there were simply so many people. Eradicating all of them had proven impossible.
Lily watched her classmates run from her, and she couldn’t blame them for their fear. Unfortunately, she couldn’t run—not from the fae, and not from the fear or anger humanity would bestow upon her.
Creed’s voice rose up over the panicking students and staff. “History is about to happen. LilyDark has sacrificed herself for you. If you want to see, come with us.”
She could feel him tugging the air, all but taste the water it pulled with that heat, shimmering above them like steam from the earth after the rain. A not insignificant part of her wanted to answer that air, to take it from him, to let loose the fire and water that she could summon. Being freed to act, to revel in her fae affinities, was intoxicating.
“Is this wise?” Zephyr asked, interrupting her urge to turn a small gesture into something grand.
Lily glanced his way. A part of her wanted to put this all aside, to let Zephyr have time to mourn. She couldn’t though. The regents had spoken. He had to know that, but expecting him to be at his best the day after Alkamy’s death was unrealistic.
Zephyr clarified, “Having these humans there? St. Columba’s students?”
Lily couldn’t swear to anything, but she doubted that even the Queen of Blood and Rage would slaughter humans on the day she entered this world to declare peace.
“Endellion will not hurt them,” Lily said, certainty in the words growing stronger as she spoke them.
“She’s not the only threat,” Zephyr reminded her.
But the stone rumbled inside Lily’s mind. “Endellion comes! We hear her.”
There was often something steady and sure that only the oldest of stones could express, a weight and slowness of revelation that was the precise opposite of the way water spoke. The thick bass of stone’s speech was not harried, but it was quicker in what Lily recognized as excitement.
It made her walk a little faster.
“The queen comes. Words for the queen. Stories f
or the queen. Truths to tell.” Stone’s words dropped like weights into Lily’s mind. There was a heaviness there that made her steps seem to need more effort, and again she sped up.
She wasn’t ready for more truths. She wasn’t entirely convinced she was even ready for what was about to transpire. There were no other choices. Lily had made a bargain, and as a result, Endellion would announce that LilyDark was the next ruler.
“She comes for me,” Lily spoke, both aloud and in that quiet place where stone and soil heard her. “The queen of the Hidden Lands, my grandmother, comes for me. She means you no harm. I mean you no harm.”
Suddenly, Creed and Zephyr were at her sides, steadying her, as she stood forward to face the sheer enormity of her new life. They were silent, but she had no need for speaking. Words weren’t what made a difficult thing more manageable.
In barely a heartbeat, vines reached out and made barriers between Lily and the growing number of people flooding into the hall. She hadn’t asked them to do so, but Zephyr was earth too. It was his words they’d heeded.
“They are our classmates,” she whispered. “Why would you think they mean us harm?”
Creed pulled air like a cushion around her, keeping anything and anyone from touching her. He said nothing, but his arm came round her waist. Between the two boys, she was protected by earth, air, and their physical presence.
“Your safety is everything,” Zephyr said in a mildly chastising tone. More and more, he was as protective of her as an older sibling would be. They’d only just met a few short months ago, but when they’d returned from the Hidden Lands, he’d taken to his newfound familial relationship with zeal.
“Foolish, deadly girl,” Creed murmured. “The media has taught them that you could slaughter them as they stand. You stride through their space, armed, daughter of a criminal, and announce that you are blood to the queen. Why wouldn’t they wish us ill?”
thirty-one
LILY
Lily walked past faces filled with open horror and awe. It wasn’t the first time she’d been watched with such expressions clear to see. The children of her father’s associates either were baffled by her or feared her. In the Hidden Lands, fae knelt before her, yet her own uncles had drawn swords on her. There was no place where she wouldn’t be loathed by someone. St. Columba’s had briefly offered that haven, but too soon, it was already at an end.
It made her want to hide away.
But she was LilyDark Abernathy, daughter of a crime lord and granddaughter to the regents of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. She wasn’t someone who was meant to bow her head. Doing so was disrespect to her family. Daidí had taught her that. He might not have admitted that he’d done so because of both sides of her ancestry, but the result was the same.
Tilting her chin upward, she quashed her hurt at the reactions all around her and feigned the confidence she should be demonstrating. What she actually felt was far from it. Fear thrummed in her skin, not just of the people who had been friendly strangers a few moments ago, but of the things yet to come.
She kept her doubts under the surface and walked toward the little harbor town adjacent to the school. As she walked, the plants and rocks under her feet hummed with excitement. Their vibrations battered her skin and sunk to her bones until Lily felt vaguely queasy from the bombardment of sensations.
Endellion did not walk freely here. Years past, she had. The fae had lived and thrived in the same world as humanity, but over time, humans had built machines that belched poison into the sky. They had created factories spilling noxiousness into the sea and soil. Time and again, year upon year, humanity polluted the earth.
Endellion and Leith had protected the fae by withdrawing from humanity. That was the all of it . . . until careless humans crashed their ship into the then-pregnant Endellion, spilling poisons into the sea and beginning the queen’s childbirth. That one act of recklessness had been the last one. Endellion slaughtered tens of thousands of humans because she had believed that those few sailors had cost her the child she’d carried, Lily’s mother.
It was no wonder that the people feared, or that the earth and sea rejoiced.
“I am afraid,” Lily said quietly to her companions.
Neither boy spoke. To deny that she should be afraid would be to lie. To admit it wouldn’t help. Sometimes silence was the only answer.
With Zephyr and Creed at her sides, Lily arrived at the same pier where she’d first met Zephyr. That day, a ship had exploded in the harbor. Today, there were no explosions. It was almost comically quiet. No news vans were on site yet; no crowds awaited the queen’s proclamation. They would come. They would all come once the first pictures went live on social media.
First, though, Endellion would arrive in this world with no notice, no fanfare, no negotiations. She’d step into enemy territory with her consort at her side. Entering her realm the same way was impossible. Attempting it would result in bloodshed, but Endellion had begun the war. She’d fought it on her own terms. She’d declare a cessation to it the same way.
Lily couldn’t blame her. Warning one’s enemies wasn’t a wise strategy, and the queen was nothing if not wise.
“She comes,” the air whispered.
“Our queen among us,” the waves murmured as they writhed and rolled.
And so she did. Endellion stepped into existence, rising from the sea as if she did so daily. She looked upon them as if she was somehow peering down at each and all. Using his affinity for air, Leith floated down from the sky to stand beside her, dressed in regal garb and a friendly smile. He gave a cheerful wave to the people, and more than a few responded. The magic of it was enough to bring a smile to Lily’s lips.
Her grandparents, the most feared beings in either world, had exited the Hidden Lands and arrived in the tiny seaside town of Belfoure. The regents watched, waiting for the crowd to gather. A proclamation required an audience.
There was a palpable ripple among the people starting to fill the streets of Belfoure. They exited buildings and gathered. Voices lifted and grew sharp.
Lily had never seen such a crowd in town; it felt as if the entire population of the city of Belfoure was assembling to watch. People continued to arrive. Not only were the students from St. Columba all there, but the streets filled with groups of families.
Leith wore his traditional crown of white diamonds. Endellion wore black ones. The queen hadn’t dressed meekly, but to any who knew fae tradition, her attire was meant to calm the throngs who would, no doubt, watch and re-watch the footage already being gathered by the shocked masses who shivered in her presence.
The Queen of Blood and Rage had not tied back her hair. This alone spoke of her peaceful intent. When she wielded a sword, she twisted it or coiled it up, but right now, it spilled like darkness over her shoulders and back. There were moments of light in the curtain of shadow, as if it were scattered with stars. Those lights were not dimmed for stealth. Likewise, her blood-colored armor had been replaced with a formal gown, a heavy red and black brocade creation that was cinched at the waist. Her arms were covered, but slits revealed a black underdress. It was not a gown made for combat. Her hands, throat, and face were the only exposed skin. Even her often-bare feet were hidden, this time under delicate, ruby and onyx covered shoes. All told, she looked regal, but still intimidating.
The king, of course, was equally beautiful, but unlike his wife, he looked jovial and as approachable as a faery king could be. His attire was mild, a simple tunic, trousers, and boots. They were well made, but his clothes weren’t something that drew attention. His attitude was. He seemed biologically incapable of appearing anything other than some manner of joyous. Lily had to wonder if he was jocular even while ordering murder. Somehow, to her way of thinking, Leith’s cheerful mien was less comforting than the queen’s default demeanor of barely concealed aggression. Either Lily was more Unseelie than Seelie or her slight comfort with the queen’s attitude was a result of a childhood spent with human monsters.
/>
Unlike Lily, neither regent wore visible weapons. They appeared . . . almost harmless. She had no doubt that it was intentional.
“LilyDark,” the king said, voice carrying over air so those humans who stood transfixed could hear.
Lily did the same with her voice. “Grandfather. Grandmother.”
Endellion’s imposing expression faded briefly. “Granddaughter.”
The queen hadn’t left the Hidden Lands in centuries, not since her daughter had been presumed dead as a result of human action.
“We’ve waited for this day since we conceived your mother,” Leith said.
Looking first at her grandfather and then at her grandmother, Lily told them, “I am sorry I did not know that I was your heir.”
Leith nodded, but Endellion said, “It wasn’t your fault. You were hidden, but now you are found.”
Creed and Zephyr were motionless at Lily’s sides. Behind her, she could feel Violet approaching. Since she’d declared fealty, Violet was like a fiery beacon, easy to locate by some intangible cord that linked them. Lily imagined that if there were hundreds of fae who declared fealty, that thread would become a great tapestry. For now, it was only a few single strands. She could feel fae blood, but not with the kind of solid knots that would pull them unerringly together. Not yet.
“I believe my mother’s crown should be placed by the one who would ask me to wear it,” Lily said, her voice still carrying over the people. “I think she would’ve liked that.”
Endellion peered at her, fondness blossoming in her expression. Her words were still mild, however. She merely murmured, “Indeed.”
It was an expression Lily remembered from her childhood. Her mother wasn’t nearly as reserved as she would act around others. She certainly wasn’t as regal as the queen.