A House of Cloaks & Daggers (The Gift War #1)

49. The Body Downstairs

Lucais Starfire spent his three days of recovery in my bedroom.

I didn’t ask him to go back to his own room, and he didn’t suggest it.

At night, I placed a two-pillow barrier between us, and we stuck to our respective sides of the bed. During the day, he dozed on and off while I read The Sins of Stars by the window.

The House brought meals to us, and I excused myself for an hour or two each day while Delia came in to help him bathe.

He promised not to look if I wanted to use the bath myself, but I simply rolled my eyes at him and used the empty guest room down the hall when I needed to.

On the third day, I finished the book.

I slammed it shut loud enough to wake him, and when he didn’t stir, I threw it at him instead. The hardcover landed on his outstretched hand, which was resting on my half of the mattress as he lay on his side.

“What was that for?” Lucais asked with forced politeness, cracking open a golden eye.

“Why do you keep pretending to be asleep when you’re not?”

He opened his other eye. “I like listening to you read.”

I frowned. “I’m not reading it out loud.”

“No,” he agreed, propping himself up on an elbow. “But your breathing pattern and your heartbeat tell me where you’re at with it. And you pelting it at me tells me that you’re done. What do you think?”

“I think you’re an idiot.”

He rolled his eyes skyward. “Of the book. ”

“I think you’re an idiot,” I repeated, walking towards the bed. “This whole idiotic mess you made came from this one stupid book.” I snatched it up and threw it down on the mattress again for emphasis.

Micael and Livia were mates.

The mating bond was exclusive to members of the High Fae, which made it easy to believe that there wasn’t one between the two main characters because Livia was constantly referred to as a Swapling—a completely different race of faerie. At the time, she was considered one of the Lesser Fae.

But Livia wasn’t a Swapling.

She was a fucking Princess of Faerie who had fallen from the Aboveworld at the start of the Dragon War to escape an arranged marriage with one of the Dragon Masters. She had cut part of her own ears off to make her unrecognisable, and simply never corrected anyone who accused her of being a Swapling.

Slavery was her hiding place.

When the Dragon Master sent spies down from the clouds to search for her, none of them bothered to look twice at a Cinderella-esque serving girl with small, rounded ears.

Livia was Micael’s mate.

He’d known it all along—because of some weird, territorial nonsense that affected faerie men more than women—so when the war ended and she returned to the Aboveworld to claim her rightful place on the throne, he followed her.

The Dragon Master’s surviving heir accused Micael of kidnapping the Princess, and she was chained to her throne while they tried and executed her soulmate.

“I always thought it was a true story,” Lucais murmured, reaching a hand out to stroke the book’s worn spine. “That one of the Secret-Keepers had managed to find a way around their bargain with the High Mother and tell the story of how the Aboveworld truly ended, by presenting it to us as fiction.”

I sat down on the bed with my legs crossed while he flipped the cover open and ran a long finger over the front page. He glanced up at me, tracing a circle on the empty space around the title.

“There’s no author,” I realised.

Lucais nodded. “I asked my parents when I found the book in our library, and neither of them knew where it had come from. I think I was meant to find it as a warning.”

Tilting my head to the side, I studied his face. His hair was clean and fluffed from sleep, the blond as delicate as starlight in the dawn glow, and he looked fragile. Breakable.

I’d never seen him like that before.

His golden eyes were haunted.

“Because history has a habit of repeating itself,” I finished for him. “You know, in the human world, we have a name for this. It’s called superstition.”

He flipped the lid of the book closed and shrugged, leaning back with his hands behind his head. The fragility had vanished, replaced by an arrogant smirk. “The Malum will do worse things to you than execution. What sort of a mate would I be if I let that happen?”

“You’re not my mate,” I reminded him, crossing my arms over my chest.

He snorted. “Yet.”

Before I could think of what to say next, my bedroom door flew open, and Morgoya appeared. She was dressed in a set of green velvet, and her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed.

“Get up,” was all she said to the High King.

“That’s no way to speak to a man recovering from a life-threatening injury,” he replied indignantly.

She rolled her eyes as she stalked across the room. “Oh, please.” She yanked the covers back. “You were fully healed two days ago.”

My eyes widened at him. “You were?”

Lucais gave me a sly smile and winked. “I’ve been enjoying our quality time together. You moan in your sleep, you know. It’s adorable.”

“You bastard,” I gasped, whacking him over the head with the nearest pillow. “I was trying to be nice to you!”

“There’s still time for you to practise, bookworm.”

“Oh, enough.” Morgoya dragged a hand down her face. “We have a situation downstairs. The honeymoon is over.”

Lucais groaned, nudging her out of the way with one of his feet as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. It was the first time I’d seen him stand since the attack, aside from that brief moment in the hall, and I felt my muscles tense as if they were preparing to catch him.

He rose to his feet with perfect ease, however, and took a step towards the door.

And then he shouted in pain, bending over with his hands clutching his stomach.

I lurched forward. “What’s wrong?” I asked, panic ripe in my voice.

“Poison,” he rasped. “You didn’t…give me enough…blood. Need— more .”

Frantically, I scanned the room for a knife. When I couldn’t find one, I was half tempted to tear my wrist open with my own teeth, but Morgoya slapped him across the back of the head before I could move.

“Cut it out,” she chided.

A split-second later, Lucais straightened up and started laughing. The sound was like soft music that grated against all of my nerves in all of the best ways.

“Worth a shot,” he chuckled, a roguish smile on his face. “I haven’t had a vacation in over three hundred years, and I meant what I said about the way you taste.”

The High Lady made a choking sound.

With a wave of his hand, Wren— Lucais, for fuck’s sake—was fully dressed in a smart black jacket with golden trim and polished boots. He straightened his lapels and brushed invisible dust from his knees before turning to face me as he combed his hands through his sleep-tousled hair.

“Are you staying with us?” he enquired, turning to find a mirror. He let out a rough breath when he couldn’t find one and gave Morgoya a questioning look, gesturing to himself.

She rolled her eyes. “You look beautiful. Even better if you’d pick up the pace.”

Lucais’s answering smile was nothing short of charming.

“Staying,” I blurted when they both turned to look at me.

I hadn’t even thought about leaving. I hadn’t fully processed my feelings yet, either. But the idea of going home, of leaving Faerie, made everything seem so much worse.

Wren had ruined our chance of happiness together by lying to me. I knew that much already. And Lucais had let it go too far for any reparations to be made to what was left of the mating bond. But I had to admit that I understood why.

While he had feared for my life because of The Sins of Stars , I had spent three months fearing for his life because of my dreams.

I didn’t love him, not like I had loved the man in my dreams before I met him in real life. But the thought of him being tortured still made me queasy, and I had questions about the premonition.

“I’m not… I’m not ready to go home yet.”

A flicker of pain crossed Lucais’s eyes, but he smiled broadly and nodded. “Very good. I have a cramped schedule to tackle, so this will save me time. There’s a body downstairs I need to examine, and then we need to go and find your father.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

Morgoya echoed me, and then asked, “Why?”

The High King shrugged and brushed his hands together before stuffing them into his pockets. “To ask him for Aura’s hand in marriage, naturally.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, seriously. Why?”

He sighed brusquely. “Where’s the trust?”

“You dropped it in Dante’s Bookstore,” I snapped.

“Okay, fair. We need to find your father because I have a theory I’d like to test.”

Morgoya frowned at him. “That’s not any clearer.”

“The truth, remember?” I prompted, climbing off the bed.

Lucais’s eyes were apologetic, but he put his hand on my shoulder and shoved me back down onto the bed. “Sit,” he said. “I think I know what happened to Blythe.”

The High Lady of the Court of Darkness.

“What?” Morgoya demanded.

He looked down at me and traced his fingertips over the side of my face. “She was finally ousted by her heir.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Lucais ignored her and crouched down in front of me. He took both of my hands in one of his and used his other to draw soothing lines across my palms. “I tasted something else in your blood,” he murmured, slowly lifting his eyes to mine. “Aura… I don’t think your father was from the Court of Light, my love. I don’t think your magic is dormant, either. I think your power is very much alive, and it has chained itself up to protect you from it.”

My body was deprived of oxygen.

“I think you were born to the Court of Darkness,” he went on, “and I think you are Blythe’s heir.”

“That’s impossible,” Morgoya breathed. “Not just a human mate, but one descended from a different Court. It’s unheard of.”

We both ignored her.

Lucais noted the fear in my eyes and let go of my hands, baring his palms to me. His gaze was stern, irises a solid and brilliant shade of gold. I was paralysed by his train of thought.

“Fuck the Oracle,” he said. “You have my permission to take whatever you need from me, and leave the rest.”

I reached for one of his hands.

I had a theory of my own to test.

Holding Lucais’s gaze, I offered up a thought to the tether between us. The link I had felt since the moment I’d walked into him, growing stronger and more surreal with every passing day.

I’m scared.

His gaze softened, and I heard his voice in my mind like an echo down a phone line. I’d heard it before, I realised—but now it was clear, a sound I could identify and follow to safety through a blinding storm. No, you’re powerful. Don’t confuse the two.

You realise fear is a feeling, right?

Fear is a state of being, and so is power.

I looked away, breaking our stare, but kept my hand in his.

This doesn’t mean that I forgive you.

Good. I like it better when you hate me. It makes you bold.

I kicked his ankle as he rose to his feet, his fingers still linked with mine.

“The body downstairs,” he began, turning his head towards Morgoya. “One of Enyd’s?”

The High Lady nodded, all the colour drained from her cheeks.

“Let’s go and play coroner then.” Lucais glanced at me over his shoulder. “Coming?”

Blythe’s heir.

Court of Darkness.

Faerie father with questionable allegiances.

“Sure,” I agreed, dropping his hand as I rose to my feet. He slipped it back into his pocket. “Does anyone want to tell me how you ended up in the fight with a locust?”

He made a face. “Not really.”

“Ask Wren,” Morgoya muttered, trailing behind us as we left my bedroom.

Lucais glanced back at her with mock horror. “Whose side are you on?”

“Aura’s. Thanks to you, I have a lot of grovelling to do.”

“Mmm,” he mused as we marched towards the staircase. “Well, to aid the process, I should probably tell you that my High Lady was violently opposed to my scheme. But I pulled rank on her. She still found a way to interfere, though.” He glanced up at her as we descended the stairs. “The gold dress? Brilliant. Evil, but brilliant.”

“I wasn’t trying to make it worse for you, Aura,” she said. “Not for you. I was trying to make a point to the High King.”

“Point taken. Cross my heart and hope to die,” Lucais sang, acting out the words with his hand, “I’ll never do it again.”

“I’ll get over it,” I told the High Lady.

I would get over it, but her interference had made it worse for me. Much worse. Morgoya had been my one true friend.

The three of us left the House, joining a small group of High Fae in the courtyard outside. Gravel crunched beneath our steps, and the babble of voices quietened into hushed whispers as we approached.

Standing in a circle, I spied Wren and Enyd among the crowd.

Wren flinched when he saw me and averted his eyes. Mine prickled with sharp, bubbling tears, but my anger quickly dissolved them.

Enyd was too preoccupied talking to one of her sentries to look up as we came to a stop at the edge of the circle.

I saw the reason a moment later.

Lying on the ground in the middle of the circle, there was a mangled body writhing against the stones.

“I thought you told me he was dead,” Lucais said, scrunching his nose.

Enyd’s head snapped up. “He is dead. There’s no pulse, but he won’t stop twitching. Do you want to tell me what in the Elements is going on?”

Lucais hummed and took a step closer to the body.

The grey uniform of the Court of Wind was in tatters, concealing only the man’s most private parts. His skin was a sickly green colour, covered with protruding black veins like his decapitated comrade. But this time, the veins were pulsing, like the blackness came from a fluid oozing through his body.

His eye sockets were swollen, his face sallow and bruised, and his hair was black as night. The tips of his fingers were black, too. Like his extremities were slowly dying.

The High King crouched beside the body and began poking and prodding it.

“We have a problem,” he announced after a few moments of scrutiny.

“No shit,” Enyd hissed. “What has happened to my men, Lucais?”

“Malum,” he answered gravely. “He’s in transition.” He cleared his throat and cast his gaze around the group. “Anyone have a sword handy?”

A member of his Guard stepped forward and extended one to him.

“What are you doing?” Enyd exclaimed as Lucais raised the sword in the air over the man’s throat.

He looked at her, face screwed up with confusion. “I’m sorry. Did you want to keep him as a pet or something?”

The High Lady of the Court of Wind blanched.

“Morgoya, darling,” he called over his shoulder, eyes on the squirming body at his feet. “Can you do your job for once, please?”

She stepped forward, hands across her stomach, and began explaining the Malum to Enyd and her Court. When she was done, the sentry standing beside Enyd turned around and vomited onto the stones.

His High Lady stared at the body on the ground for a long moment before finally declaring, “Do what you must.”

Lucais raised the sword again and brought it down upon the body with perfect form, slicing it clean through the neck. The body stopped moving as a cloud of thin grey smoke hissed out of the wound.

“They’re making more,” the High King announced, holding the hilt of the sword out to its original owner as he turned and stepped back to my side. “They left this one as a message.”

“How do you know?” Wren enquired.

“They took faeries during the raid on Sthiara, and the High Mother knows what they’ve done with Blythe’s Court,” Lucais answered tightly. “Gregor is probably offering his help in the hopes that he can avoid the same fate for his own, but it’s just a matter of time.”

“Why has it taken you this long to tell me?” said Enyd.

Lucais regarded her with a frown. “Need-to-know basis. If you weren’t so paranoid, stationing your men beyond my wards, then I wouldn’t have had to tell you at all.”

Enyd glared at him and threw out her hand, sending a torrent of wind towards him. It wasn’t strong enough to knock him over, but it did make his hair stick up like he’d been electrocuted.

He rolled his eyes and began to smooth it down. “That was rude.”

“So was keeping this information from me,” she seethed. “Who else knows?”

“Only my favourite High Ladies,” he answered with a grin, glancing pointedly between Enyd and Morgoya.

“Your favourite,” Enyd sneered. “And yet you asked me here to see if I was conspiring with them, I presume?”

“Oh.” Lucais pulled a face. “Yes. About that. You didn’t bring the Malum General with you and sacrifice your own men because it would make you look innocent, did you?”

“No,” she growled through her teeth.

He held his hands up in submission. “Just checking.”

“I need to return to my Court,” Enyd told him. “I would ask for a week to mourn my dead, and then I am at your disposal.” Despite the scene before her, she bowed low. “If it’s war they want, then we will give them hell.”

Lucais nodded. “I rather think they’re already in hell, considering most of them look like that ,” he replied, gesturing to the corpse, “but I appreciate the enthusiasm. Take your week. That gives us enough time.”

“For what?” Morgoya asked him.

But it was to me he turned with the answer, his eyes sparkling with pure light. “To go home,” Lucais replied. “I’m taking bookworm here to Caeludor.”

Oh, no, you’re not.

I smiled at the High King, and then I unclipped the leash. Somehow, Wren already knew what I was doing, but his shout of warning came too late.

I turned the lights off in Faerie and disappeared into the dark.