Chapter 35
Nerthus feared that the power of the ring, lute, and cup might not be enough to subdue the Old Ones.
Even if they slept, they could one day wake, and their vengeance would be terrible.
It was safer to also make them forget. She crept into Noctua’s realm and drew water from a river that made spirits forget their past lives, adding it to the cup of silver.
—OLD ONES, ANCIENTS, AND THE FOLK
Prospect’s voice came through the cave’s entrance. “Your penitence is complete. King Erebus releases you!”
Thea could see the ward trapping her inside, like a layer of rippling water between her and the outside. Prospect must have some spell that would allow her to step through but keep the shadows contained.
Or so he thought.
The shadows rested on her back in the form of butterflies, their wings inky and delicate.
It was like wearing the winged jacket Damon had given her.
The memory stabbed her heart, so she pushed it aside, focusing on the ward she must step through.
The invisible barrier pressed at her, squeezing her lungs.
She held her breath, willing this to work.
She’d used Veleda to pass through the ward in the doorway of her bedchamber.
She hoped the shadows could pass through the cave’s wards if they were part of her.
But this containment spell was much more powerful than Veleda’s.
She could feel the weight of it, the way it bent the air.
She took one step, her face encountering the strange feeling of the ward.
Another. The magic pressed against her, making her skin feel as if it were being pulled tight.
A third step made the ward snap together behind her, releasing her to the other side.
She put a hand to her shoulder, feeling the wing of a butterfly.
Her shadows had stayed with her, tasting freedom for the first time in an age.
It gave her a sense of protectiveness knowing they were inseparable. She took another step away from the cave. The glow from the silver trees seemed painfully bright. Her eyes had learned to love the dark.
Prospect stood a few feet away. He was smaller than she remembered, his eyes wide as he looked her over. “You are well, First of Shadows?” His hands twitched with nerves, his shadows swirling.
She smiled at the title, which now felt earned. Her body hummed with the power that her shadows—her butterflies—were giving her. Is this what the king felt when he amassed new spirits? It was exquisite.
Thea beckoned to Prospect’s shadows. “Come to me,” she commanded.
The Seer’s face was a mask of horror as the darkness around him moved toward Thea, sinuous and graceful, curving around her waist and into her hair.
“What are you doing?” Prospect cried, his hands opening and closing as if he could pull them back. “Please. To be without them here could mean my death. The king is mercurial. If he sets his shadows on me in a fit of rage, I’ll have no protection!”
The Seer fell to his knees, his hands clasped together so tight she could see the curve of his knuckle bones. Begging her for mercy after he’d just put her in the cave for days? She lifted her skirts and stepped around him.
As she swept along paths through the silver forest, the Seer trotted after her, his robes swishing nervously. “The shadows from the cave follow no one. They were imprisoned for the safety of everyone, most especially you and the king.”
Thea turned on her heel, whipping around so fast the Seer took a step back, his eyes wide. “Never again put me in the same category as Erebus,” she told him. “It will be the last thing you say.”
The Seer drew a sharp breath through his nose. “I understand.”
“Where is he?” she demanded.
“In the castle, entertaining guests.”
Strength wins the shades, her mother had said. She had never felt stronger. “Take me to him.”
The lights of Damon’s castle were dim.
It seemed the king had run through the folk she’d seen last time, perhaps turning them into more silver trees.
The strange creatures from the lower realms were back.
But instead of glassy, vacant stares, their eyes were wild.
They shrieked and ran across the filthy tiles and up the walls, talons extended as they shredded paint, fabric, and one another.
Blood streaked the floor. Here and there were bits of some opalescent liquid as if insects had been squashed.
Thea toed a drunken imp who was nursing the dregs of a bottle of fruit wine out of her way.
She strolled from the door to the throne, where the king sat with his chin on his hand.
He was pretending to be bored, to not care about her arrival, but she could feel his anticipation.
No doubt he expected her to beg forgiveness.
When she drew close, she did not bow. She stared at him, wondering how someone so small could have almost broken her.
“Had enough of the cave, my willow?” he asked, his smile as slick as the bug grime on the walls.
“On the contrary,” she said calmly despite the screeches and shouts coming from all around them. “It was an interesting experience.”
His brows twitched up. “But not one you would soon repeat. My son always despised it. Perhaps that is why he ran like a frightened child from my realm. A pity he turned out to be so weak.” Though Erebus’s mouth still twisted in a bitter smile, his fingers drummed on his armrest, and his eyes held a brooding look.
She surmised he was far more upset about Damon’s defection than he let on.
Thea would neither defend nor condemn Damon to a man who had never deserved to be a father.
Instead of responding, she took her time surveying her surroundings.
There were creatures killing each other on the ballroom floor.
Two insect-like things were tearing each other apart.
Fractured chaos. Pointless violence. The predictable lowness of it all.
It showed Erebus for what he was. She sensed his shadows in a way she hadn’t before, and noted they were not as thick or as fast-moving or as deep.
It was time to show Erebus that she had not been humbled as he’d intended.
She waited for him to meet her eyes before she spoke. “Your shadows are bored.”
Erebus’s head went back as if he’d been slapped. “What’s that? Are you begging me for more punishment?”
She raised her voice so the assembled mob could hear.
“Your chaos is becoming as unvaried and tedious as any mundane task. Even the shadows you took from Damon were happier with him.” Saying Damon’s name hurt, but the point was to catch the king off guard, and she could think of no better way than a hit to his pride.
It must gall him that the son he’d so enjoyed tormenting had finally left.
“Prospect,” the king said silkily, his movements slow and calculated. “Take my First back to the cave. Strike that, she is no longer First. I name her Last.” He grinned, satisfied with his new name for her.
“Belay that,” Thea ordered before he could continue, using the voice of command that she used with her Huntsmen. “Take Erebus instead.”
A quiet fell over the ballroom, inch by inch, spreading like a ripple in a pond, leaving only a whisper of a cold breeze.
“I can’t do that,” Prospect said, his voice a fearful rasp.
Thea snapped her fingers as if remembering something.
“No, you can’t. I have your shadows.” She made a twisting gesture, calling one of the butterflies to her hand.
As it alighted, she allowed the others to flutter free from where they’d hidden behind her back, making a beautiful black cloud of moving wings around her. “It seems I will have to do it myself.”
The seconds slowed as if time itself were shocked by her brazenness. As Thea had hoped, the creatures from the depths began leaving, no doubt unwilling to risk themselves in the coming confrontation.
A flush of rage suffused Erebus’s features.
His lips drew back from his teeth, and for a moment, he looked as ugly as his soul.
He flexed his shoulders and opened his arms, and his shadows spread out like feathers, forming dark wings at his back.
A breath later, the feathers turned to blades, which arched and curved as if aiming for Thea.
The rush to the door intensified, the guests’ talons and claws making a racket on the smooth tile floors.
In a minute, only Thea, Erebus, and Prospect were left.
“I honored you by naming you First of Shadows,” the king said, his voice hardly more than a whisper of rage. “And you disgrace me like this. Your power could have burned bright beside me. Now you will eat the ashes of your failure.”
Thea pulled her own shades closer, making them into the shield she would need. “But I became what you wanted me to be. First of Shadows. So I don’t burn bright. Not anymore.”
He panted heavily, his shadow-blades trembling as if they couldn’t wait to sink into her vulnerable flesh. “No, you don’t,” he snarled. “You are thoroughly disappointing.”
“I burn darkly,” Thea finished.
And unleashed her shadows.