“No, but from what I hear, your aunt is more of a peacekeeper than you these days. I heard about your arguments with other family members.”
Lily tensed at the words, not wanting to talk about crossing swords with her uncles, the sons of the Seelie King. They were technically her blood, but they had no love or kindness to show her. They’d captured and held her, and her escape had required a level of violence she’d not expected. Although she’d been raised willing to draw blood, it wasn’t ever an act without weight.
“You should’ve called me, Lily,” her father chastised.
Creed had started swaying slightly as he held her. He didn’t sing, but she felt him use the air to gently stroke her arms. It was his affinity, air. So she often had the unusual experience of being consoled, cajoled, or caressed by someone who could turn the air into the equivalent of innumerable hands. She liked it, but it was distracting.
Her eyes popped open, and she glared at her boyfriend before she could stop herself.
“Sorry,” he mouthed.
Lily shot Creed an apologetic smile before telling her father the big news. “I was going to tell you about it . . . and my plan to create more peace, when I saw you.”
“Your plan . . .” Her father paused, and in the next moment, his standard implacable tone failed. He sounded like the man he was in the privacy of their home as he asked, “Are you sure, Lilywhite? If you don’t want—”
“LilyDark,” she corrected gently, using the name she’d chosen as a way to announce that she was neither Seelie nor Unseelie, fae nor human. “I am the daughter of two worlds and two courts. I want peace, and my plan will bring it.”
He sighed. Her father actually sighed. This was a man who—more than once—had ordered a guard “permanently removed” with nary a blink of the eye. He’d presided over a criminal enterprise that laundered money, bought politicians, and—at least twice—been a part of the overthrow of a government. Nicolas Abernathy wasn’t a man to sigh. He was a man to speak and do.
“Daidí?”
“I need to see you, Lily.”
“I thought you were with Señor Gaviria?”
“There have been some complications with work, and several obvious fae attacks on humans that are getting a lot of attention.”
“I saw the news,” Lily said carefully, “I wish I knew who was doing it, but . . . I don’t.”
There was a long pause before her father asked, “Have you heard from your grandparents?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, answering the question he was really asking. “They’ve been busy with other things. You know how my grandmother gets when she’s focused.”
Lily closed her eyes and tried to keep her worry in check. How was the queen to declare peace between the fae and humanity in the midst of such blatant and horrible attacks? No one would believe in the peace she was offering.
Lily did, though. The queen might slit throats. She might destroy entire towns, but she wanted Lily’s willing cooperation. The queen knew that Lily’s price was peace.
If the Queen of Blood and Rage wasn’t ordering the attacks, who was?
When the silence went on too long, her father asked, “Will the rock star be joining us?”
Creed, who had heard the whole conversation, let out a brief laugh.
“Hello, Mr. Morrison,” Daidí added drolly as he overheard Creed. “Well, there’s that answer.”
Gently, Lily told her father, “Abernathy Commandment #17: Love is a risk, so if you embark upon it, do it with no reservations. Never halfway. Creed will be with me.”
At that, Creed’s arms tightened around her. She hadn’t ever outright said the words to him. Proclamations of love weren’t always necessary. Still, she felt her cheeks burn at the realization that she’d just implied to both her boyfriend and father that she loved Creed.
“So be it,” Daidí said. “Hector is already on the way to fetch you.”
“Yes, Daidí.”
When Lily disconnected, Creed tightened his arms around her, imprisoning her. She had to be careful of his still-injured hand. His leg cut had healed, but his wrist was still bandaged from his actions in the Hidden Lands. She was staring at the proof that he’d been hurt because of her, when he spoke.
“Lily?”
She shook her head. Implying things wasn’t the same as admitting them. She’d become the heir to the fae throne a few weeks ago. Any talk of the future, or of love, or even of possibilities was far beyond her reach. Loving her was dangerous. She shouldn’t forget that.
Carefully, she turned within the frame of his arms and reached up to pull him toward her in a kiss. It felt like a strange gift to be able to do so, to expect a world-famous singer, a rock star she’d followed in the tabloids, to kiss her. There had only ever been one sort-of-boyfriend before him, so receiving affection from Creed was surreal. She wanted to keep this, the oddly fragile love that she couldn’t stop, even as she wondered if the right thing to do was to find a way to run from him.
He kissed her, lips first touching softly and then demanding the proof she wouldn’t give him in words. There was something in the silence, the words not yet spoken and feelings not yet admitted. It made their kisses fiercer, rougher, as if the act could say the things she wouldn’t.
Lily’s fingertips trailed up the back of his neck to graze the slight stubble of his hair. He didn’t completely shave this week, but he kept his hair cut close enough that she’d taken to tracing the contours of his head. Admittedly, she’d let her hands wander over other parts of his body as well. Touching Creed was addictive, and she was a willing addict.
“Go pack a bag,” she told him when he pulled back.
“Done.” He stared at her a moment too long, as if he needed to burn her into his memory simply to be able to leave.
It was things like that that made Lily willing to fight more and more for him. She wasn’t concerned about him finding her beautiful in a prideful way. In truth, she was still in awe that he’d noticed her at all. When he looked at her, he was so focused, as if the world could end around them and he wouldn’t even notice. Lily knew he saw her, not the Abernathy scion or the heir to the Hidden Throne. Creed saw her.
And that was everything.
four
ROAN
When he surfaced on the other side of the sea, the human side, Roan glanced to his right. Will was with him. He’d felt Will’s hand on his back. As long as they touched, Will could breathe under the waves too. It didn’t work with anyone else. Years ago, that had been one of the first clues that they both felt the attraction and affection between them. The ability to share breath wasn’t there with Violet or Zephyr or Creed or Alkamy.
Will was the one exception.
“Okay?” Will asked as he noticed Roan’s stare.
Roan transitioned back to his normal shape, shivering a little at the feeling of the water without a seal’s pelt for warmth.
“You lied,” he said quietly.
“I omitted,” Will whispered.
Even these few words felt weighty and loud as they floated in the harbor at Belfoure. They swam toward the pier where they could slip onto shore. Roan never minded the water, even when it was impure, but after the clean sea water in the Hidden Lands, the filth here felt wrong. He wasn’t ready to abandon this world, but for someone who had a second form, the appeal of living in the Hidden Lands was undeniable. There, the water was incredibly pure. It had to be. After all, the queen swam. There, he wouldn’t have to hide what he was. The only reason it hadn’t appealed up until now was that the queen often seemed a touch mad.
“You didn’t tell me when you were sent to the train station,” Will reminded him. It was a subject that had become an issue between them. Roan had taken Violet instead of Will. She was their best friend, and they’d never felt like she was between them. This time, though, Will did feel that way. Roan had turned to her, not to him.
“I apologized.” Roan stood there, naked and angry. “Will?”
“No more secrets,” Will said, unzipping his bag and pulling out sodden clothes. “I’m sorry. I can give excuses, but the truth is that the king is scary. Not the same way the princess is . . . but still . . .”
Grimacing, Roan pulled on his jeans. Wet denim was gross.
“I’m Seelie,” Will added. “If I ever doubted it, talking to the king would’ve clarified it.”
Roan paused in buttoning his jeans and looked at his boyfriend in surprise.
“I don’t know how I can say that for sure, but”—Will shrugged—“I knew. When I met him, when he ordered me, I knew.”
“I could be Seelie.” Roan held out his arm. He was darker than Will, but they were both lighter in complexion than Creed. When they were revealed to be half-human, Roan attributed his color to his human mother. It had been a conundrum over the years. He was Seelie dark, but he swam like the Unseelie Queen.
Will shook his head. “We both know you’re not.”
“So you were afraid I’d mind that you’re Seelie-born?” Roan’s temper rose. “Do I have a problem with Creed? With Vi?”
“You don’t.” Will reached out and caught his hand. “But you aren’t considering living with them—”
Roan cut him off by kissing him. When he released him, he said, “You can be an idiot. Still. After years. It amazes me.”
“Thanks.” Will’s voice was light though, and he stayed close enough that there was no doubt that his worries had been answered.
“When we get married someday, I expect you to remember that I would throw away family, friends, anything for us to be happy.” Roan stared at him, not accusing but reminding. “I accept that you think you can’t because of the senator, and I’m still here. I would go to the Hidden Lands or wherever we needed to be together and happy.”
“It’s not that I think I can’t. My mother’s career . . .” Will started, but he didn’t finish this time. It was a subject that used to lead to fights. Roan had stopped fighting about it for now. They had an agreement to wait until they graduated at the end of the year to make decisions on how to deal with it.
“Right,” Roan said with a quick brush of lips. “We can discuss her political inconveniences later.”
Roan stepped back to finish dressing. He pulled on a shirt and slid his feet into sandals, before he looked at Will and asked, “So, how do we deal with the princess’ orders to watch over Lily?”
“We call Lily’s criminal friend,” Will said levelly.
“Whose number you already have?”
Will shrugged. “I have several. One of them will work.”
five
EILIDH
To say that the Hidden Lands were in flux would be like calling the turbulent sea merely unsettled. The fae were growing no less fearful, no less angry, no less confused. They would with time, but those who live for centuries are slow to adapt. Ending a war and declaring a new heir . . . both were world-changing events.
Of course, Eilidh had her own changes to embrace. She’d never been other than the heir to the throne. She’d drawn her infant breaths under observation, taken her first steps knowing that all and each fae watched her for weaknesses. She’d learned at her mother’s side, felt blood from the queen’s wounds drip onto her skin. For many years, Eilidh had believed that the queen’s natural scent was salt and copper, but now she knew those to be simply tears and blood.
So it was not an easy thing to see her lands under worsening strife. Fae of both courts waited outside her door at all times hoping for an audience. Some were there to wish her well before they asked her to intercede. Most, however, had little time for pleasantry.
“She’s corrupted the king,” one of the bolder fae men said by way of greeting. “He’s drunk on her witchery.”
Eilidh affixed a placid look on her face and said, “Mother is no more witch than you are.”
“Threatened him then,” another fae, this one Unseelie-born, suggested.
Stone and mud slithered under Eilidh’s feet. She’d started wearing boots, as if the leather between her skin and the soil would mute the constant chatter of earthen things. She had no idea when it had become so cacophonous and constant, but there were days when the mere touch of earth made her head thunder in pain. She took to the sea more and more the past few weeks; barely a day passed without her diving from the cliffs into the depths. The water here was cold, and only those fae with water affinity could stand the sea’s embrace very long. They weren’t in it as often as Eilidh was, however. She couldn’t bear a day without the silence of water surrounding her.
“What if one of us threatened you?”
Eilidh laughed in unexpected joy. Every few days one of them would suggest such foolishness. With laughter still on her tongue, she pulled the earth toward her, burying the fae woman up to her chin. She sputtered, a face atop a termite mound, as Eilidh stood in bemused wonder.
“I am their daughter,” she said lightly. “Child of two courts. Brother to Rhys. Betrothed to Torquil. Aunt to the new heir . . .” She slid a short dagger out of her skirt. “Surely, you can’t have forgotten the blood that runs in these veins.”
With no further word, she traced one of the many scars on her arm, letting her blood flow to the ground. Soil reddened as if those few drops were a torrent. Fae soil had always been fed by blood offerings. The regents made offerings still, including Eilidh and all of the princes.
“My blood will nourish this soil as long as I live,” she reminded the assembled fae. Fire appeared in the air over her wound. It sunk into her body, burning deep into her bones. “And I will serve the future queen of the Hidden Lands. You will serve her.”
“Or?” a voice from the back of the crowds called.
“Or I will show you what the conjoined blood of our people can do,” Eilidh said, still looking on them with a smile.
“Nacton says—”
“Nacton. Is he of both courts?”
“No, but—”
“Do you forget that he violated your queen mother and king father’s wishes?” Eilidh felt like her voice was thicker and denser than it ought to be, like earth and stone fell from her lips as words. Her body sometimes felt as though it were merely a conduit for the earth and sea, uttering thoughts not wholly hers. These words, however, she held as true. “LilyDark, daughter of Iana and granddaughter of Endellion and Leith, will protect our home.”
Come, child. Come and be quiet. Come home to the waves, daughter.
Eilidh frowned, trying to push the sea’s summons back. The people needed assurances. Her tongue was heavy though as waves and soil vied for mastery over her.
Words grew less present by the moment. Still, she knew actions. In a blink, she had drawn and was raising her sword in her free hand. The broken princess held it as if she were as capable as her mother. In moments such as these, Eilidh suspected she was.
“If you see fit to create quarrels, I will let the earth drink.” She drew the tip of the sword through the dirt prison holding the fae woman steady. She let the fae-wrought steel cut flesh.
Fresh blood stained the soil, fed the land.
“These are my lands to protect, heir or no, and I will not allow you to disrupt the peace we are entering.” Eilidh repeated the same words she’d said in one way or the other most days. “Let it be known.”
Then she turned her back and walked to the edge of the stone cliffs alongside her towering glass home. With no other word, she extended first her dagger and then her sword. Stone and soil wrapped around them as if the very hands of the Hidden Lands were accepting her blades. Though she was grateful, Eilidh was also confused by it.
Come, child. Come and be quiet. Come to us, daughter.
With no weapons left in her hands, Eilidh stretched her arms skyward and then leaped. For the space of a few breaths, she was as if suspended. Air held her there, even though it was not her affinity. Then fire seemed to coat her entire body, burned over every nerve, searing her skin until she thought pain was imminent.
> Air released her, and sea accepted her. And there was peace. There was silence. Everything that was wrong was carried away by the sea.
When Eilidh resurfaced, her father stood at the edge of his part of the Hidden Lands. For all of the years that the king and queen had been wed, they still didn’t share a home. The king would visit the queen as often as he thought she would allow it, and then a few times more. It was more combat than companionship with the regents. Eilidh couldn’t even attempt to understand them. She’d given up trying.
“Daughter,” he greeted as she stepped out of the frigid waters. He had a thick blanket to drape over her shoulders like a cloak. The queen would likely have shrugged or at best tossed a skin of some sort toward her. The king was civilized in ways the queen thought foolish.
As if intent on proving that very thing, he’d had a fine table brought to the sandy beach. White linen edged with golden lace covered the dark wood. Silver tea service and delicate cups with hand-painted flowers rested in the center of the table. Beside it was a multi-tiered silver serving dish with tiny sandwiches and treats.
“I expect you’ve not broken fast,” the king said, pulling out her chair.
“I needed the sea.”
He nodded. “The children quarrel still?”
Eilidh sighed. He knew as well as her mother that the fae were struggling with the announcement of LilyDark as their future regent. It was the right choice, and they had to act as if they were unaware of the distress it caused. If they drew blood or pressed the matter, there were many who would rebel. That left the task to the fae themselves.
Rhys was seen as the queen’s hand, and the Seelie princes were unlikely to do much other than fan the discontent. That left Eilidh and those who would speak rationally to their kin and kind. It was not an easy task.
Mutely, Eilidh poured their tea. Her hand didn’t even shake when her father noted, “I’ve not seen Calder of late.”