“I met Lilywhite.”
Alkamy didn’t budge. “Seelie?”
“I don’t know,” he said, not wanting to broach that topic. If Lily was Seelie, she’d obviously not be blood family. He could love her a little if he wanted . . . at least, he could if the queen allowed. Real love was a mistake though; it led to fighting, hurt, and desperation.
“Lilywhite could be Unseelie, I guess,” Zephyr commented. “Or maybe her human upbringing confuses things. She was raised by Nicolas Abernathy, who makes monsters seem cuddly.” His hands paused on Alkamy’s shoulders for a moment. “Usually I have a pretty good guess. I couldn’t tell with her.”
There was a note in his voice that made Alkamy lift her head. No one else would’ve noticed. There were layers of things he’d need to confess in time. Today wasn’t that day.
Alkamy looked back at him. “Guesses? Really? So you could be wrong about everyone in the cell.”
“Maybe.”
“I could be Seelie for all you know,” she continued.
“Too pale,” Zephyr pointed out, even though it wasn’t true proof. The only sure way to tell was skin tone. The Unseelie, the more monstrous of the two, were pale like they’d only ever walked in moonlight. The Seelie, however, could vary in skin tone.
“Anyhow,” Zephyr said, dragging out the word. “Lilywhite had no idea who she was.”
“What?” Alkamy jerked upright, flinging soil everywhere with her sudden movement. “How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know.” He brushed the loose dirt from her arms and shoulders. “She knows she has some fae blood, but she doesn’t know about the Sleepers.”
“But . . . her handler? How could she make it this long without knowing that she was one of us?”
“I don’t know. All I can say is that she didn’t greet me like she was expecting me. She was not pleased by the bombing I arranged to welcome her. It was strange . . . and troubling.”
He lifted Alkamy to her feet, kissed her forehead, and grabbed her robe. Seeing her covered in soil only emphasized her otherworldly appearance. Of all of them, she’d always be the most likely to be outed—and if she was arrested, Zephyr wasn’t sure he could restrain his vengeance. It was moments like this that made him more sympathetic to the Queen of Blood and Rage. There were people in life who were worth a storm of destruction and terror. He understood that . . . because of Alkamy.
“Go rinse,” he said. “I’m going to swing by Cuthbert’s office and see if I can find out where Lilywhite will be rooming. Do you want me to check on your latest suitemate?”
“Met her. Got rid of her.” Alkamy grinned and shrugged on the robe he held out for her.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “You are so Unseelie. No doubts.”
“We’ll see some day, I guess.” Alkamy grabbed her bag of oils and slipped her feet into sandals. “I’m going to the tubs.”
Every dorm had a basic bathroom with showers, but there were also slipper tubs on every floor that were open for leisurely soaks. Zephyr had spent one very memorable night there with her. He smiled before he could help himself, and then shoved that memory back into the mental box where he kept it now.
He offered her his arm. “Escort?”
Alkamy rolled her eyes. “There’s no one around to preen for, and everyone already thinks I’m a notch in your bedpost. Give it up until the masses arrive.”
She wasn’t like him: she wouldn’t fight because the queen ordered it. One late night, she’d admitted that she was only going along with her role as a Sleeper because of him. He was her reason—which meant he had to keep her on target. If not, she’d likely die.
“I still miss you,” he whispered.
“And I’m still right here. Always.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Zephyr lapsed into silence as he escorted her to the door of the bathroom. That was the problem: she was here, but not really. She was in his arms, but not the way he wanted. She was at his side, but not his to keep.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Alkamy urged as they stopped at the bathing room.
“Define stupid?”
Alkamy sighed and kissed his cheek. “Whatever you’re thinking, most likely.”
He grinned.
“I’m serious,” she said. “She’s not from our world—the fae one or the human one.”
“She’s the last of us, Kamy.” Zephyr opened the door to the bathing room. “She needs to know. We need to tell her.”
Alkamy ignored the opened door. “Can you at least not tell Endellion?”
He frowned at her and let the door fall shut. “Title only, Alkamy. No one speaks the old name casually. Not here or over there.”
“And isn’t that proof enough that we shouldn’t let her know about Lilywhite yet? Should we obey someone we are supposed to fear?” Alkamy was clearly trying to keep her voice level, but failing.
Zephyr sighed softly, “I live to serve her. We all do.”
Alkamy frowned. “I’m not saying you should lie to the queen . . . not really. Just omit what you can.”
She stepped away from him, pushing the bathroom door open again.
Zephyr waited until she stepped into the room, but as soon as she let the door fall closed, he turned away. He didn’t want to fight with her, but he couldn’t listen to her treasonous words. Hearing them meant he’d have to tell Clara—or worse yet, Endellion herself. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen if Alkamy were found guilty of treasonous thoughts or actions. The best-case scenario was that she’d be punished, and that would try Zephyr’s loyalty the way nothing else had.
He’d fight the queen’s war. He’d shed blood at her word. Those were decisions he’d made in order to protect his cell. But he wouldn’t lose Alkamy. For her protection, he’d face the queen’s wrath.
fourteen
WILL
Will curled up on the end of the sofa in Violet’s hotel suite, watching her pack an astounding number of blouses, skirts, trousers, and shoes into an array of suitcases. It was bizarre to have that much clothing. “You really ought to have someone do that.”
She leveled an unfriendly look at him. “No.”
“I could hel—”
“No,” she cut him off. “You read. I sort. I don’t mess with your coping strategy. You don’t mess with mine.” She had one hand on her hip and the other upraised, pointing at him. “And don’t think that provoking me is going to get any questions answered. I’m wise to your tricks now.”
Unapologetically, Will shrugged. He didn’t need a whole lot of tricks to guess what was wrong. Both Roan and Vi were being prickly. The news had a bit on a catastrophic tunnel fire, and the speculation that it was yet another attack by the Queen of Blood and Rage had been confirmed by one of her terse messages to a local news outlet.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Violet threw a boot at him. He caught it. Dealing with Violet’s temperamental nature was more of a game than a challenge.
“Don’t.”
“Roan doesn’t want to talk about it either,” Will continued as if she hadn’t spoken. He tossed the boot back toward her.
“It was horrible,” she admitted, her tense expression fading away for a moment.
“Isn’t it always?”
“Did you . . . were you given any work to do for her over the summer?” Very pointedly not looking at him, Violet tucked the boot into a bag with its match. “The movie has been . . . I should’ve checked in more.”
Will sighed. “I’m not actually your little brother, Vi. I’m just as capable as the rest of you.” He stared at her, looking for a sign that she understood. “I wear as many masks as you do. My mother’s dutiful son, the team’s quiet one, Roan’s supportive boyfriend.”
“But they’re all real . . . aren’t they?”
“They are, but I’m not just one of any of those things.” Will shook his head. “Don’t try to shelter me so much, okay? I know things are changing, but that doesn’t mean
I’m not as capable—or as much under threat as you are. The same classes, the fighting, the requisite sword and gun and . . . all of it, Vi. I’ve been there too.”
“But you haven’t had to k—”
“I have,” he interrupted. “Zeph knows. Kam too.”
Violet’s mouth gaped open, and Will wondered—not for the first time—if he should’ve told her when he’d had to do so. He knew her though. She would do as she had with Roan, as Zephyr had done for both Creed and Alkamy. She’d have taken his task as her own to protect him.
“If I’d have known . . .” Violet’s eyes filled with tears.
Will shrugged. “That’s why I didn’t tell either of you.”
“But . . .” Fierce moody Violet folded her arms over her chest as if to stop herself from shaking. It was, oddly, all the proof he needed that he’d made the right choice. She wanted to protect everyone around her, and as much as he loved her for it, he wasn’t going to ask it of her—or allow her to do it on her own if he could help it.
Will was sick of everyone trying to shield him.
When he came home that night, hands still shaking but holding it together more than he’d expected when he’d received the orders from Clara, he thought he had managed it all well enough.
The door fell shut behind him with an almost inaudible snick. It was the only sound in the townhouse, making it seem louder than it really was. He slipped his shoes off and was about to go up to his room, when a series of soft thuds drew his attention as someone stood and walked toward him.
“I can’t protect you,” his mother said from the darkness of the foyer. “If you get in trouble, you’ll end up exposed for what you are. I can’t protect you then.”
“For what I am?”
“I know we don’t talk about things,” she continued on as if he hadn’t spoken, “and I know that what I did in order to be your mother might not have been right, but I don’t regret it and I wouldn’t want to change it.”
Her arms were folded tightly, and as she turned the light on, her fluffy yellow bathrobe looked oddly cheerful despite the conversation. They weren’t talkers. They debated, and they discussed. That was different. It was mental exercise. This . . . this was bordering on emotional revelation, and Senator Parrish simply didn’t do that.
“If you get exposed for whatever you sneak out to do, they’ll test you. It’s standard for arrests now.”
“I was out late once and—”
“Don’t,” she cut him off. “I see your friends, Will. Do you honestly want to try to tell me that they aren’t fae-blood? That you aren’t aware of what they are?”
“So the anonymous donor . . .”
“There was no anonymous donor. There was an offer, a fae who offered me the one thing I wanted more than anything,” she said softly. “I couldn’t conceive, despite science. I didn’t have a partner either. When I was offered a chance to be a mother . . . I accepted.”
“You willingly slept with a fae-blood then.”
“No,” she corrected. “I slept with one of the true fae. The faery who fathered you was not able to pass as human. He had no desire to bed a woman—fae or human—but he wanted a child. We both wanted a child.”
Will nodded. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He had heard Zephyr explain that they were “modern changelings,” that instead of leaving behind sick faery babies in exchange for stealing healthy human children as the fae once had, the fae had left strong fae children behind in order to be raised in this world to fight for their true families. There was no way, though, that Zephyr’s explanation made sense. Will knew that his mother was truly his biological mother. That meant that it was likely that Zephyr was either lying to them or believing in a lie he’d been told. His mother had just given Will proof of his own suspicions about his heritage.
“Do you ever hear from him . . . my father, I mean . . .”
She shook her head, and then, in a very tentative tone, she asked, “Have you?”
Will shook his head.
“So you’re not out . . . doing things for him?”
“Things?” Will prompted.
“If you are a fae sympathizer, if you are out working for t—”
“Do you love me?” he interrupted. “Even though I’m not all human, do you love me?”
“Of course I do! I chose to have you. I knew exactly what that meant.” She scowled at him with the same ferocity he’d seen when she was arguing one of the causes she most loved. “You’re why I support all those eco-acts. It’s to give you a healthier world. That’s what fae need. The cooks who are instructed about your ‘allergies,’ the house with purified air, the trips . . . It’s not like there are books on ‘How to Raise Your Not Quite Human Child.’” Her voice lowered at the end, as if even here there could be someone listening. “I’m trying to do what I can to take care of you because I love you.”
He nodded. It was good to hear.
“You made a bargain with a faery, Mom. That never comes without a price.” He paused and looked at her. “I pay the price.”
Her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
He sighed. His mother was tough, fierce, implacable . . . all things that she didn’t appear to be tonight. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight hug. “I love you too. Just . . . don’t ask questions, okay?”
“Are you hur—”
“I’m as fine as I can be,” he assured her. “Just stay you. Stay the way we’ve always been, and we will pretend that neither of us knows what was said here.”
She nodded.
Will let go and stepped away. He was halfway up the steps when she added, “I’m not sorry. No matter what, I’m not sorry I said yes to him that night. I’m proud to be your mom.”
And he wanted to say he understood, to say he forgave her, but the truth was that she wasn’t the one paying the cost of the deal she’d made. She wasn’t the one who had left bodies on the ground on the orders of the Queen of Blood and Rage. She wasn’t the one with bloodied hands.
She wouldn’t be the one to be imprisoned for life simply for existing.
He had to pay for simply being born. Murder, death, or imprisonment, those were the choices. As abhorrent as murder was, it was the only option that let him have some semblance of a life.
The phone in Violet’s room trilled, pulling him out of his memories. The front desk called up to let them know that his ride to the airport was waiting.
“You know Creed talks to one of them,” Will said quietly, his mind still on his own biological father. “The true fae, I mean.”
“How?” Violet shoved her suitcase aside forcefully. “We’re not to go there, have contact . . . what is he thinking?”
“Creed does what he wants, always has.” Will shrugged.
“I’m guessing Zephyr has no idea, then?”
Will gave her a look. Zephyr was a good guy, so was Creed, but the two had been at odds for years. Will couldn’t say he thought either of their approaches to dealing with the fae were exactly wise, but his answer—keep his own counsel and avoid the politics of any sort—wasn’t necessarily better. It just worked for him.
“It’s like they think we’re animals, you know? Mangy dogs they train and put in pits to fight . . . except we fight humans who don’t even know. It’s . . . argh.” Violet’s temper simmered enough that her skin was throwing sparks.
Will walked over to her. “We all cope in our own ways, Vi. That’s what you just said a few minutes ago, right? Creed does whatever it is that he’s doing. Zeph follows orders. We all find ways to be okay with being Sleepers.”
“Do you know what Creed’s doing though? Who he’s talk—”
“No. I just know that there is someone there that Creed meets, and if something happened to me . . . I wanted someone else to know too.” Will wasn’t sure why Creed spoke to them, or why he kept it from Zephyr, or anything beyond the simple truth: they might be a team, but every last one of them kept secrets from at least some of the others. r />
“You could tell Roan,” Violet suggested.
“I told you instead.” Will hugged Violet, kissed her cheek, and stepped back. “I’ll see you at school, okay?”
She nodded. “Don’t tell the others that I’m probably coming back early after all or—”
“Vi,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll see you when you get there.”
And then he left. She was okay, as okay as any of them were, and that’s what he’d needed to know. They kept their secrets to protect themselves and to protect each other. One of these days, though, one of their secrets was going to be too much.
fifteen
LILY
After Lily had left the garden, and Creed, she walked back to the office where the headmistress was. Hector said nothing when she walked in, but he did reach out and pluck the bit of hedge that was caught in her hair. She’d left it there on purpose, a statement verifying where she was. It was a lesson her father had taught her: provide clues to prove the theory you want people to believe. It helped hide the truth. She had been in the garden. No one needed to know that she’d met Creed there. No one needed to know that she’d revealed her heritage or that they’d made fae vows that they meant no harm to each other.
Hector held the tiny piece of greenery out to her. “I see you found the gardens.”
She took the tiny branch. “They’re perfect.”
For all of his professional mannerisms when there were witnesses, Hector did relax when they were alone. Lily watched as the tension in his shoulders eased, and he told her, “I’m glad for you.”
“Two sixteen,” the headmistress said, breaking into Lily’s quiet moment with her guard. “Your suite is two sixteen. It’s the end unit on the second floor of the East Tower. We are on the ground floor, so you’ll need to ascend two levels. That is the lowest of the dormitory floors.”
“Thank you,” Lily said. Two floors of stairs was much nicer than it could’ve been. She’d requested a low floor, but the dorms went up to the twelfth level in both towers.
“When the dorms are not open or after curfew, all student access is through this building. An enclosed airwalk connects each dormitory to the main hall on the second floor.” Mistress Cuthbert paused. “Your father mentioned an aversion to elevators.”