Only Bree seemed singularly capable of bringing them to the surface.
He felt trapped. He was surrounded by familiar faces, inquisitive glances, curious stares. He could practically feel them judging him. Assessing him.
Why doesn’t he attend the trial?
Doesn’t he want to see justice for his captor?
What did Ultan do to him?
What is wrong with him?
Far too many things to list.
He needed to go somewhere quiet, somewhere he could think.
Without conscious decision, his feet started carrying him through the palace halls. He followed a once familiar path and, a few moments later, emerged in the queen’s library.
His mother’s sanctuary.
She had passed countless hours in this room after her husband—Aedan’s father—had been tried for maru iobartach and sentenced to a millennium in the Everdark. Hours spent staring into the flames of the hearth as tears streaked down her cheeks. Aedan had only been child at the time and didn’t fully comprehend what was going on. He only knew that his father was gone and his mother came into the library to cry all the time.
He had often snuck in and climbed up next to her on the sofa. She would squeeze him so tight he couldn’t breathe, but he somehow knew she needed it.
Now, he crossed to the sofa and sat where he had spent so many hours.
Why had he kissed Bree?
No answers came.
He stared into the empty hearth. After all that time spent fearing—spent believing—he would never feel warmth again, he hated even the slightest chill.
Summoning his magic, he ignited a small fire within the stone enclosure.
“If I thought for even an instant that you would sit for it, I would call the royal portraitist to capture this moment.”
Aedan turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. She stood only a few feet away, smiling at him in a way that was both happy and sad. He hadn’t heard her approach.
She swept in, the fabric of her clothing swirling around her like a cloud. There was so much movement that he couldn’t tell if she wore pants or a gown or something altogether different.
As she sat next to him on the sofa, he felt instantly transported back to all those years ago when he had comforted her.
He hoped she did not think to return the favor now. Comfort was not what he needed. Control. That was the goal.
“You are not sleeping,” she stated.
“Not at the moment, no,” he replied.
She gave him a look that only she could give. “You are not sleeping at night.”
“I am.”
It was not a lie. He was sleeping. Just not very well or for very long.
“You are not sleeping enough,” she said with a sigh.
He shrugged at that, because he could not argue the point. He had never been able to lie to her—and not only because she could sense a lie the way a bee sensed pollen. He didn’t want to lie to her. And so he said nothing.
She was quiet for a long time. So long that he thought she might be content to sit in silence for the duration.
He should have known better.
“I have nightmares,” she said softly.
He gave her a startled look. “Why?”
It pained him to think of his mother suffering anything at all like the terrors he faced each night.
He understood his own nightmares. He wasn’t so far gone as to have blocked out the source of his trauma—although on more than one occasion he had wished for such oblivion. But what trauma did his mother, the great and powerful queen of the Clan Moraine, have to fear in the night?
“Did you really just ask me such an asinine question?”
He blinked. “Um, yes?”
She did not roll her eyes, but he had the feeling that she really wished to.
“My eldest son was nearly mauled to death by my once-trusted advisor,” she explained, “who then kidnapped and tortured my youngest son. Do you still need to ask the question?”
No, he supposed not. Aedan shook his head.
His mother’s hand shook where it sat in her lap. He reached out and took it, squeezing it between his own.
He wasn’t certain who was comforting whom, but just seeing his mother’s fear and knowing that his presence made it better, somehow made him better.
“I have nightmares too,” he confessed.
The words fell out without conscious thought.
He hadn’t told that to anyone before. Had never said the words out loud. It was both terrifying and liberating to release them to her.
She nodded. She didn’t look at him, but he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. He hated that he had put that sadness there.
There was more to tell her. So much more to tell. So much more than he couldn’t even bring himself to face within his own thoughts, let alone speak them into reality. Would releasing them liberate him even more?
But in the end, he couldn’t bear to add to her sadness. He couldn’t heap more tragedy onto her fragile frame.
She was strong, he knew, but some burdens she could not bear. Some burdens should not be shared.
“They are getting better,” he told her, hoping the half-truth would make them both feel better.
She let out a sad laugh. “Liar.”
He smiled as he stared into the bright orange flames that flickered before them. Flames the color of Bree’s hair.
“They will get better,” he corrected.
“They will not,” she said. “Not until you confront them.”
“What—” What do you mean? he started to ask. But he knew the answer. He knew it, and yet he refused to accept it.
“The longer you hide from your fears, the longer they will remain at your side.”
“I…I—” I don’t think I can.
Confessing his nightmares had been one thing. He did not think he could confess his weakness too.
“I know Cathair tried to tell you Ultan might be found innocent,” she continued, “and your brother had noble reasons for saying as much. He understands that you need to bear witness to the trial. But the traitor will not be acquitted.”
“Then my absence makes no difference,” Aedan argued.
“Ultan will be convicted,” she said quietly. “He will be sentenced severely.” She turned to look her son straight in the eyes. “If you do not face your fear of him before that day, the nightmares will be your eternal companions.”
The fear will be your eternal torment. She did not say those words, but he heard them all the same.
He sat stunned, uncertain what to think. Uncertain what to say.
“Mother, I…”
“He testifies today.”
The queen patted him gently on the knee and then pushed to her feet. As she swept away just as silently as she had come, Aedan wrestled with her advice.
He wanted to dismiss it as maternal folly. For some reason, both she and Cathair believed that Aedan should watch the trial, and this was her way of trying to convince him to attend. But at his core, he feared she was right.
The possible punishments for Ultan’s crimes were either execution or eternal banishment to the Everdark. Whichever he faced, once sentenced, no fae alive would ever see the traitor again.
As much as he hated to admit it, as much as he didn’t want to, facing the source of his nightmares—the source of his fears—might be his only chance to escape them.
Twelve
How could she have lost him? Again?
Bree was so going to get fired. Surely losing her charge twice in one day was grounds for dismissal.
Okay, so the first time he had still been technically under Regan’s watch. But still.
And it wasn’t like she could explain that she had been too stunned by that kiss to go after him when he walked out of the training room. If losing her charge was bad, falling for him was catastrophic.
Not that she was falling for him. No way. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t let herself.
/> If she ever wanted to be taken seriously as a guard, she couldn’t get involved with the fae she was assigned to protect. Talk about unprofessional.
Then why could she still feel the burn of his lips on hers. Hours had passed. She had searched the entire palace, top to bottom, and ventured far enough into the forest to see that no one had disturbed the latest fall of needles on the forest floor. And still, her lips tingled.
Maybe it was something to do with his fae magic.
Whatever the reason, Bree could not stop replaying that moment over and over in her mind. Could not stop touching her lips as she thought of him.
When she had exhausted every possible hiding spot, had questioned every last fae she saw with none having seen Aedan all day, she resigned herself to the fact that he was gone. And she was going to have to tell her boss.
Technically, the Master of the Seer Guard was her boss, but for this special assignment within palace walls, she reported to Tearloch. He was not going to be happy.
Bree knew that most of the high-ranking fae were attending Ultan’s trial, so she figured that she would find Tearloch there.
She stood outside the courtroom doors for a long minute, trying to gather up her courage to confess how badly she’d screwed up. She had one job—one job—and she had failed. She just had to accept the probability that she was about to be fired. No big deal.
Liar.
She finally nodded at the guard who stood duty at the door. As he opened the door, she drew in a deep breath. Then she stepped inside.
The first thing she noticed was how packed the room was. It was a massive chamber, and yet it was wall-to-wall fae. Most sat in the long rows of benches that faced the dais at the far end of the room. Others crowded against the back and side walls. Still others sat in the center aisle.
In the human world, a fire marshall would complain about the dangers of over-occupancy. In the fae realm, with magic at their disposal, she supposed that a fire wasn’t much of a concern.
The next thing she noticed was the silence. Despite the huge crush of bodies, there was barely a sound. All attention was focused intently on the dais, where Prince Cathair and Queen Eimear ruled over the proceedings.
“We will now hear testimony from the defendant, Ultan Kavanagh.”
A hushed whisper washed over the crowd.
Ultan rose from behind the table where he sat, surrounded by half a dozen fierce fae guards. He made his way slowly to the witness stand next to the dais. There was something unnaturally slow about his movements. Bree had to assume that there were extra magical protections in place to prevent him from using his powers to escape. Or to harm anyone in the courtroom. Or to control the votes of the council that would decide his fate.
He moved around behind the stand and then climbed up onto the raised platform.
As he stood there, looking out over the crowd, Bree shivered. The look in his lavender eyes was something between disdain and arrogance.
He still believed himself to be in control of the situation.
Great Morrigan, Bree hoped not.
Unlike in human trials, in fae court proceedings the witnesses were first allowed to speak their piece. Then the counsel on each side would be allowed to examine and cross-examine them.
The crowd collectively held its breath as Ultan opened his mouth to speak.
“I have no testimony to give.”
Bree stared at him. Pretty much everyone in the room stared at him.
Even the queen stared, her jaw tightly clenched in irritation.
Cathair cleared his throat. “Are you—?” He scowled and tried again. “You have the right to present your version of events.”
Ultan turned his eery purple gaze on the prince. “I am aware.”
“No defendant has ever declined his right to—”
“I always enjoyed being the first.” The smile that spread across Ultan’s thin lips made Bree move back a step. As if his evil grin alone was a danger.
After a few more long moments of confused staring, Cathair and the queen leaned in close for a whispered discussion. When the prince sat back up, he cleared his throat again. Then he addressed the room.
“Very well. Since the defendant has declined his right to testify, we shall move on to the questioning phase. The crown’s counsel has five minutes to prepare their first questions.”
The female fae who was serving as the prosecutor for the crown nodded and started fervently shuffling papers on her table, while the young fae lawyer next to her began scribbling notes on a stack of parchment.
With a few minutes of downtime in the trial, the crowd erupted into fervent whispers.
Bree, on the other had, knew she had delayed her duty too long. She had to report Aedan’s disappearance so that arrangements could be made for a search. She scanned the room, looking for Tearloch.
She spotted the tall, imposing fae standing against the wall near the barrier that separated the public area from the trial space. But as she was about to start for the front of the courtroom, she saw another dark-haired fae standing next to Tearloch.
Her jaw dropped.
Aedan.
After searching the entire palace—literally the entire place—and the forest beyond, he was here, in the courtroom, in the last place she ever thought he would be.
She was overcome by a mixture of relief and anger. Okay, mostly anger. How dare he scare her like that?
Almost as if he sensed her rage—oh wait, he probably did—he looked up from his conversation with Tearloch. He looked straight at her. He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t betray a single emotion. Which only made her angrier, since she was feeling overwhelmed by so many of them.
She was about to cross the room and confront him when she sensed a presence at her side.
“Can I speak with you in the hall?” Regan asked her.
“What?” Bree turned to face her. “Oh. Sure.”
She followed the guard out, throwing one last glare at Aedan before she walked out the door.
“What’s up?” Bree asked.
Regan gave her a curt smile. “Your anger was fueling the magic of every person in the courtroom.”
Bree frowned. She had been around fae all her life. No one had ever complained about her emotions charging their powers.
“Including Ultan,” Regan finished.
“Oh.” She could see why that would be a bad thing. A really bad thing.
“There are protections in place,” the guard said, “but it would be better if you remained in the hall until your anger is under control.”
Bree winced. “I’m sorry. It’s just—” She shook her head. It wasn’t like she wanted to explain how she’d lost the prince after they shared a kiss. That would be reputation suicide. “Never mind, it’s no big deal.”
Regan scowled, but didn’t call her on the obvious lie. She just nodded and then returned to the courtroom, leaving Bree alone with her thoughts. And her anger.
Thirteen
Aedan wasn’t sure if he would make it through the entire court session. After the talk with his mother, he knew he had to attend. He knew he had to look Ultan in the eye and show the traitor that he hadn’t won. That Aedan wasn’t broken beyond repair.
The only problem was that Aedan didn’t know if he believed that. He certainly felt broken.
But even if he was, he wanted Ultan to think he wasn’t. Whatever the traitor’s punishment turned out to be, Aedan wanted him to face it thinking that all of his plans had failed.
Then then imperious bastard had the nerve to offer no testimony. As if he merely expected to be acquitted with no effort on his part.
But that had been nothing more than a show. Now that they were in the questioning phase, Ultan spouted lies with every answer. Some of them still echoed in Aedan’s mind.
There is no evidence of my pursuit of the Dark Clan.
The daughter of Belemus was not harmed.
The prince went with me without a fight.
The last o
ne hit too close to the truth for Aedan’s well-being. Not that he had willingly gone with Ultan—he would never have done that. But the traitor had taken him all too easily. Aedan had not been prepared to defend himself, and so his fight had been negligible.
If only he had fought harder.
If only he had trained earlier.
If only he had been able to stop his living nightmares before they started.
His self-recriminations were worse than anything Ultan could ever throw at him.
Aedan wanted to flee the courtroom several times. Once, he almost had.
The charge from Bree’s anger had been just the boost he needed to allow him to stay. Just enough to get through the day upright.
He understood why Regan had taken her from the court—the amount of magical charge Bree fed into the room was too much considering all the emotions raging within. Still, he wished she had stayed.
For purely selfish reasons.
The longer the questioning went, the more difficult he found it to breathe. It felt like a massive weight was pressing down on his chest, tightening with a vice grip with every lie that dripped from the traitor’s mouth.
There was just one question Aedan wanted to hear answered. Why? Why had Ultan taken him captive? Did he think holding Aedan hostage would help him raise the Dark Clan? Because it hadn’t. It made no sense.
But no matter how many times the crown’s counsel asked the question, Ultan merely shrugged and gave no response.
Aedan wanted to leap over the barrier and put his hands around the traitor’s throat.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, Cathair announced the end of testimony for the day.
Aedan wanted to sprint from the room, but there were too many fae in the confined space. He was penned in. Rather than try to push his way through, he watched as the squadron of heavily armed guards led the traitor from the room. The pressure on his chest lessened.
By the time most everyone had filed from the courtroom, he could breathe normally again.
Aedan slipped out while Cathair was still in conference with their mother. He didn’t want to face an inquisition over his attendance. If they pushed him, he might not find the strength to return the next day. And he found himself very much wanting to return.