twenty-seven
LILY
After Zephyr left, Lily grabbed Creed’s hand to follow him, but Creed shook his head. “He needs space.”
Lily didn’t know Zephyr as well as Creed did, but she wasn’t sure that letting anyone as angry as Zephyr run out was a great idea. She wanted to follow him, but Creed squeezed her hand in his and kept her there with their three fae guests.
Torquil said to no one and everyone at once, “That one has the sort of temperament that would make me believe he’s the queen’s line even without proof.”
Rhys scowled. “I thought he handled it well.”
“Precisely. You thought that.” Torquil folded his arms and waited.
Rhys’ hand strayed to his sword hilt, seemingly without conscious thought. The brush of his fingertips on the weapon appeared to bring him back to himself. “Point noted.”
Softly, Eilidh told him, “Perhaps you ought to visit Zephyr’s mother and see how she handles his moods.”
Rhys nodded and stared in the direction that Zephyr had gone. “He’s an attractive specimen, my son. With worthy fae strengths. I could see if the woman wants to mate again. She seems to be a good breeder.”
Lily opened her mouth to point out that saying such things might get him a slap in the face, but Eilidh shook her head slightly, so Lily let it go. People’s tastes were weird. Fae attitudes toward relationships were weirder still.
After a quick good-bye, and a stiff embrace from her newly found relatives, Lily and Creed headed to the dorms.
When it was just the two of them, Lily said, “This doesn’t change a thing, you know. I’m no more willing to serve Endellion than before.”
“I’ve never wanted that.”
“And I don’t want any part of politics or—”
Creed grabbed her hand again. “All I wanted tonight was for you to know. I don’t want you to belong to Zephyr or Erik or . . .” He shook his head. “It’s been a long time since I had a reason to do anything other than waste time or try to forget about the war. You give me a reason.”
Lily shivered. “I don’t want to be anyone’s reason, Creed.”
“Too late.” His smile was sad. “I pledged myself. The queen’s children know where my loyalty belongs. Even if you don’t want me, I’ve already thrown my lot with you. I live or die to serve you and protect you now. No one else. Only you.”
He started to drop to his knees, and Lily hurriedly grabbed him with both hands. She clutched his side with one hand and his opposite arm with the other. Her body jolted at the touch, and Creed’s eyes flickered closed for a moment. Whatever the connection they’d had before, it was more so now. His pledge had enhanced it.
Lily’s need to protect Creed vied with the power of their bond. “You could withdraw it. I’d . . . let you. That’s what I’d need to do, right? I release you from—”
Creed silenced her words with a kiss. It was a kiss that told her she was special, that promised things she couldn’t accept, that whispered words she didn’t dare think. Her mind went silent, and her heart ceased being her own.
When she pulled away, he was staring at her with awe plain in his eyes. “There will be no other for me, Lilywhite Abernathy. I felt it when I met you, and I know it as truth when I’m near you.” He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “I cannot be released from this vow. I will not.”
Lily felt tears streak down her cheeks. “How am I to resist Endellion now that I’m responsible for your life too?”
“The same way as you would’ve before this moment.” Creed kissed her tear-wet cheeks. “I’d already decided to give up. I’ve been racing toward the abyss for years. I won’t be a weapon used against the world that raised me. I see humanity’s flaws, but I see the goodness too. In both the fae and humanity. The two can coexist and create something better than violence in this world. Meeting you”—he kissed her softly again when her lips opened to protest his words—“proves I was right. I’m still ready to die if necessary. Now, though, it would be for someone I believe in instead of simply to escape this fate.”
She stared at him, not ready for what he was offering her, not sure if she ever would be ready for offers of love and devotion, but wanting to accept it all the same. “Tell me you’ll stop drinking.”
“Tell me you aren’t going to say yes to Zephyr, and I will.”
“On my vow, Creed Morrison. I will not accept Zephyr’s misplaced attempt to court me.”
The smile that came over him was enough to make her stretch up toward his lips again. Kissing Creed was both the stuff of fairy tales and the torrid romances that Shayla read. The stars could fall from the skies around her, and she wasn’t sure she’d even notice.
A chime and a buzz finally drew her back to reality. Creed kept one arm securely around her, and she leaned into that steadying embrace.
“Messages. Both of us,” he said, fumbling with his phone.
The only way they’d both receive the same message at the same time was if it was being sent from one of the Sleepers. No one else had contacts for both of them. Dread filled her.
Creed held his phone up so she could read it too.
Zeph crushed. Need answers. Come. NOW.
A flush of guilt came over her. She’d forgotten about Zephyr’s upset for a moment.
“Do you want me to go?”
Lily shook her head. “Both of us.”
Creed nodded, and in as short a time as possible, they were on the streets of Belfoure.
They walked several blocks in relative silence, and then a flash of a camera made her jump.
Creed released her hand and turned to go after the photographer.
“Leave it,” she said, taking his hand in hers again. “Priorities.”
“Nick Abernathy seeing me with you—and off campus too—seems like a priority.”
“I’ll handle Daidí. He’s the one who brought you to meet me in the first place.” Her picture was about to be in a magazine or up on an online site. Daidí would be livid, but it was too late to undo it, so she tugged Creed with her, and they went to the Row House.
Just inside the door stood Roan. His surfer attitude made it hard to tell how he felt, but then he pulled her into a hug. “Thank Ninian that you’re here!”
“Kamy said Zephyr was upset.”
“Drunk,” Roan corrected. “Zeph is drunk and if not for Kam’s ability to leash him, he’d have her naked on the dance floor right now.”
“Zephyr doesn’t drink.” Creed scowled. “He’s upset, but—”
“I watched him pound booze like you did the last few months. I know drunk, Creed. You’ve given us plenty of firsthand examples of what it looks like.”
When Lily looked his way, Creed muttered, “I didn’t take your rejection well.”
“You’re all mad. Every last one of you.” Roan shook his head, stared at them a moment longer, and gestured to the back left corner of the club. “Come on. Vi and Will are over by the door. We didn’t want to all go in there . . . yet.”
“Yet you all think he’s mine?” Lily laughed. “He and Alkamy are in love.”
Creed caught her hand, and they twisted their way through the crowd on the floor. Unlike Lily, Will, and Roan, Creed’s face was well known enough that cameras were flashing and girls were reaching out to touch him.
A sudden gust of wind nudged them back.
Roan glanced over his shoulder, past Lily to stare at Creed. “You?”
As she turned to see Creed, he shrugged. He didn’t meet her eyes, but his action was clear enough: it was up to her whether or not she owned up to what she’d just done.
Creed, wisely, said nothing.
She hadn’t thought to push the crowd away. She’d simply done so between one breath and the next, and she had no desire to explain it to anyone.
Behind her, Creed leaned closer to her. “There are no others like you, Lilywhite. Not for me.”
For a heartbeat too long, she stayed still, lett
ing the heat of Creed’s body press against her. If things were different, if she wasn’t who and what she was, if he was just a boy, if neither of them were fae-born, she’d stay here on the dance floor. But Zephyr needed her. Whatever else he was, they were family, and she had a duty to her family. Her father had always insisted that she keep that belief foremost.
Now that she knew what she was, who her mother was, every lesson Daidí had taught her seemed more important.
Abernathy Commandment #4: Weigh the consequences before beginning a course of action.
Lily stepped away from Creed and said, “We need to talk to Zephyr. All of us.”
Violet grabbed Lily’s arm and leaned in to tell her, “I don’t know what happened tonight, but our boy is totaled.”
“Come on,” Lily ordered. “All of you.”
The look on Violet’s face made it abundantly clear that following Lily into that room wasn’t a plan she liked, but she did so nonetheless. They’d all been taught that Lily was their leader as much as Zephyr was, and Lily—despite not being told the full truth about why—had been taught to lead.
She pushed open the door, and the three boys and Violet followed her inside. Zephyr was stretched out on the floor. His head was cushioned in Alkamy’s lap.
Alkamy herself was murmuring soothing words to the blurry-eyed boy and stroking his hair. “It’s not his fault! He was drunk and—”
“Stop. The next person that suggests there’s a reason my cousin should be faithful to me is going to get smacked.” Lily folded her arms over her chest. “Zephyr is not, and will not, be anything other than friend and family to me.”
“Cousin?” Will prompted.
“Zephyr’s father is the queen’s son,” Lily said. “My uncle.”
“That’s impossible. The heir has no children,” Violet pointed out in a strained voice.
“True. Her older sister had one though.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Their expressions were a mixture of confusion and thoughtfulness. Then, Roan whistled. “Holy Ninian . . . The queen’s firstborn lived and . . .”
“And is my mother,” Lily finished.
“So you’re the . . . heir.” Violet breathed the words. Her gaze dropped to Zephyr. “And you’re . . .”
“The queen’s grandson.”
Violet whistled. “The queen can have more Unseelie than Seelie blood on the Hidden Throne if you mate. You might as well exchange vows now.”
This time Lily was silent. She couldn’t deny the fact that the queen—her grandmother—probably thought the same thing. However, Lily wasn’t going to cooperate with that plan. She wasn’t interested in Zephyr before she was aware that he was her cousin. She was even less interested now that they were family.
Her gaze shot to Creed, who was watching her. Silently, she shook her head. He stepped closer to her protectively, as if the threat were a physical one. It wasn’t, but his action made her feel better all the same.
Then Zephyr looked up at her from his prone position and slurred, “Vi’s right, cousin. We might as well start shopping for rings.”
Then he closed his eyes and passed out in Alkamy’s lap.
twenty-eight
EILIDH
By the time they’d left the Sleepers, Eilidh was ready to curl up in her tower and ignore both worlds temporarily. That, unfortunately, wasn’t an option, so she did as the named heir to the two courts should do: she turned to her betrothed and her brother and said, “We should figure out the next step.”
Rhys frowned. “Tonight changes nothing.”
“You have a son, one Mother has been willing to sacrifice, one she has kept hidden from you,” Eilidh said as they entered the Hidden Lands.
“Yes.” Rhys slid his longsword free. The sibilant sound of fae-wrought steel against the scabbard was something that always felt like home to Eilidh. For as long as she could recall, there had been guards who stood at the ready when she was at any official functions. Both Rhys and Torquil had been among them. The elegant sound of drawing weapons was a sound that had always meant “safe” to her. Maybe it would be different if she’d ever been attacked, but up until now, weapons were drawn to practice or to guard her.
“Is that necessary?” Torquil asked.
Rhys glanced his way for a fraction of an instant, but said nothing. He obviously felt it was necessary, or he wouldn’t have drawn the blade.
“Did you see someone?” Eilidh prompted in a voice that was a shade quieter than a whisper.
Again Rhys said nothing.
Eilidh had known him long enough to understand that his silence was because he was concentrating on whatever he’d seen or heard. Their journey to the tower wasn’t going to be as direct or easy as she’d expected. “Where?” she asked her brother.
Torquil looked around them, tensing as he saw the threat that Rhys had heard. Both of the Seelie princes walked out of the darkness toward them. They were alone, without any friends or lackeys trailing in their wake, but that didn’t mean that this was a friendly visit. More likely, it meant that the Seelie princes wanted no witnesses to whatever they did or said next. Like Torquil, Eilidh’s Seelie brothers were beautiful in ways that defied words. Nacton was thin of build, dark of skin and eye, and taut of muscle. If every sunlit temptation were made into form, her brother would be the result. It was no wonder that fae of both courts had often vied for his attention. Calder, however, was a different kind of wonder. As a child, Eilidh had imagined him as a moving mountain, graceful despite his size, but intimidating all the same.
“Nacton,” Torquil greeted his court-mates. “Calder.”
“So you’ve thrown your lot in with her?” Nacton speared Eilidh with a disdainful stare, making it painfully clear that he found her beneath him in every way. “She’s as hideous as most Unseelie, so it makes sense for the Unseelie dog to support her. But you? I’d expect more of you, Torquil.”
“You speak of your father’s heir,” Torquil said, his voice growing sharp.
“She might be the heir now, but that will change.” Calder let his attention sweep Eilidh much the way he appraised a weapon or a meal. His next words made it very clear that she was found wanting. “Look at her, cousin. Broken chit that won’t survive her childbed. She certainly won’t keep the Hidden Throne long if she even dares take it.”
Nacton touched his brother’s arm, not in affection but as if he were halting an eager pet. The elder Seelie prince shook his head and said, “Bed her, and she’ll die. That leaves you as father to her get, who will next take the Hidden Throne.”
Calder shuddered exaggeratedly. “But the bedding . . . you go further than I’d be willing to.”
Torquil didn’t reply to either of Eilidh’s Seelie brothers. He’d, undoubtedly, heard their hostility before this.
Rhys kept his blade tip pointed at the earth, but it did little to make him seem less threatening, especially if you knew anything about swordplay. The low-guard position might be called the “fool,” but it wasn’t in reference to the fighter. It appeared as if Rhys wasn’t prepared, but it was actually a difficult position to attack. Everyone there knew that. Rhys had crossed blades with both Seelie princes for longer than Eilidh had been alive. They never struck fatal blows, but they certainly drew blood often enough.
Rhys’ next words only added to the menace emanating from him. “Do you think that the queen won’t hear your treasonous words?”
Calder’s smile was a flash of teeth and threat. “I don’t care what she hears. My father won’t let her have me killed or you’d have tried by now.”
“Exile is not unheard of.”
“When this one”—Nacton nodded toward Eilidh—“dies, there is no other heir. There will be no unified courts when she is dead.” He met Rhys’ eyes. “I may not like you, but I have no trouble with you taking the Unseelie throne. I will take my rightful throne. Things will be as they should: the two firstborn sons ruling two separate fae courts.”
“And the current king and q
ueen?” Rhys prompted levelly.
Calder shrugged. “It’s not like they can have another heir.” He nodded toward Eilidh. “This is their best effort. The others all died in the womb, aside from the one that died in the sea.”
There was silence for a moment.
“And if I have a child?” Eilidh’s voice fractured the hostile silence. “I would die for our people. If that means carrying a child who could be healthy enough to take the throne, I would do so. The regents know this.”
“There are those who would have no trouble killing a child or stealing it and sending it to live with an unsuspecting human,” Calder said with less emotion than he’d give to a fine meal.
Rhys’ blade lifted, drawing all eyes to him. “I am charged with our sister’s safety. Do not threaten her or her unborn.”
“No sister to me,” Calder spat.
Torquil drew his sword, moving into a position that had his blade raised high overhead like an oxen’s horns. “I would willingly bleed out every drop of my blood for Eilidh.”
“So be it.” Calder’s blade swung toward Torquil, whose own sword met it with a sharp ring of steel on steel.
Rhys was still in position awaiting this inevitable moment. It was far from the first time the two royal sons had crossed blades, but the sight of it always filled Eilidh with horror.
Nacton came in for a scalp cut, but Rhys knocked the sword away easily with his blade. The two eldest fae princes watched each other and feinted a few times. Rhys, in truth, was likely just toying with Nacton. That didn’t make the fight any less traumatic for Eilidh.
They exchanged blows, each movement precise enough to make obvious that the two fighters anticipated the strikes as quickly as they were employed. The air was filled with the sharp clatters and sinuous slides as their swords met, pressed, and met again.
“Stop this foolishness!” Eilidh snarled at the four of them. Regardless of what she felt toward her Seelie brothers, having any of their blood flow would result in anger from one of her parents.
No one even deigned to reply.
Rhys was dominating the fight, and after several minutes, he hit Nacton with the flat of his blade—an insult that provoked an ugly word and sudden burst of attempted cuts from the Seelie prince.