1. Chapter One
Chapter One
ONE WEEK LATER—Keuron, Capital of Inatia, at High Keep
I resist the urge to draw my swords. Alas, they remain sheathed at my hips, one on either side. It’s been too long since I’ve trained, and I’m itching to hear the steel sing with each lunge.
Instead, I stroll up and down the training area, my arms hanging freely at my sides. About forty sweaty trainees—the High King’s Guard’s newest recruits—fill the space in unorganized clumps. Sweat gleams across their brows, along with any other exposed skin, while they spar. All hail from each of the kingdom of Inatia’s five Courts—Gold, Silver, Copper, Bronze, and Steel, my home Court .
The Courts are named for the precious metal they produce. Our lifeblood. The source of our prosperity, our livelihoods, and even the magic we’re blessed to wield. My chest swells with pride. There are just as many females as males, if not more. All those years ago, when I joined the Guard, there were so fewer females taking the oath with me. At the time, I was but one of five female trainees. It’s good to see how many more there are now.
As the Captain of the High King’s Guard, it’s my duty to oversee the training of our newest members. It’s a responsibility that I don’t take lightly. Here, in this room, the trainees will learn essential skills that they’ll rely on in defense of High Keep and the Inatian throne. I think back to my own training, and the lessons my mentor, Ceren Wrenthar, taught me. More than once, her teachings have kept me alive.
The attack one week ago was one of those times.
Anger twists in my abdomen, but I dismiss it with a single thought. Now is not the time.
Passing a sparring pair, I give them a nod of approval. “Good,” I muse, eyeing their form.
The trainees falter when they notice my attention on them.
“Focus,” I remind them. “Maintain your stances.”
They nod to me in acknowledgment, and then return to their match. Across the room from me, Sura Vilsdottyr, one of my most trusted lieutenants, does the same with other trainees. Out of my four lieutenants, Sura is the newest to the Guard. Still, she shows great promise. The moment she walked into this room among the incoming batch of trainees, I saw a spark in her. A strong will that burns like an undying flame. At the time, I was only a lieutenant myself, overseeing the training of the new recruits alongside Ceren, my greatest teacher and predecessor.
When Ceren ultimately decided to step down, she chose me as her successor. Trusting her judgment, High King Vorr appointed me as Captain of the High King’s Guard.
Now, I echo her teachings to a whole new generation of recruits.
I stop next to another pair of trainees. One of them, a light-haired female, furrows her brow with concentration. Tension gathers in her shoulders, the rigidness of her form slowing her movements.
“Relax your muscles,” I instruct, lightly tapping her upper arm. “Stay light on your feet.”
She nods, and then takes a deep breath. Her shoulders visibly loosen, and she shifts her weight between the balls of her feet.
“Better,” I tell her.
She flashes me a quick smile, before directing her attention back to her opponent.
Satisfied, I move past them, and look ahead to the next pair. On the opposite side of the training room, closer to Sura, the set of heavy, wooden doors opens, lightly scratching the stone floors when it does .
I glance that way. When I see who stands in the entry, I immediately bow my head.
In the threshold, stands Cryssa and Viridian Avanos—the High Queen and High King of Inatia.
Too focused on their sparring, it takes the trainees a moment to realize. But when they do, they lower their fists and drop into a bow. Nerves seem to radiate from them. Most, if not all, of the trainees before me haven’t been in the High King’s presence. It makes me recall my first encounter with the former High King—Viridian’s father, High King Vorr—when I’d arrived at High Keep.
My cheeks rise with the memory, though I keep my mouth closed. I’d been completely unprepared for my first audience with the king. Working up quite the sweat, every ounce of my attention had been on my opponent—their fists, jabbing at me and their exposed throat, where I planned to strike next.
So when my adversary had suddenly lowered their fists and straightened their back, I took that as my golden opportunity.
The male had broken into a coughing fit, sputtering. Ceren had merely cleared her throat behind me, and the stark silence that fell over the training room told me I’d missed something very important.
When I turned around, Vorr was there, watching me with a brow arched. There was an interest sparked in his eyes, though his expression betrayed none of it .
“Good morning, trainee,” was all he’d said.
I’d dropped into a bow. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”
Bringing myself back to the present, I shake my head a little, fighting my smile.
Now, Viridian offers the trainees a polite smile. To his right, Cryssa does the same, though she looks more amused by the trainee’s reactions to them than her husband and mate.
He meets my eyes. “Excuse the interruption, Captain. May we have a word?”
I dip my head in response, fighting the smirk that almost tugs at my cheeks. “Of course, Your Majesties.”
As one of my oldest friends, Viridian and I have gotten into all sorts of mischief over the years. He, and Myrdin, heir-apparent to the Copper Court, know me better than anyone. Yet, Viridian still insists on addressing me so formally in front of the trainees or the High King’s council—a formal body made up of representatives from each of the five Courts meant to advise the High King and Queen.
Viridian dips his head to me, the tightness of his smile pinching his lips, and steps into the hall, keeping Cryssa close by his side.
“As you were,” I announce to the trainees while I cross the room, picking up my pace. I lock eyes with Sura as I pass her. She dips her head, as if to say, “I’ll take care of things here.”
Pulling the double doors closed behind me, I step into the hall and join Cryssa and Viridian. “What’s so important that you’re interrupting my training?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
Viridian’s dark brows knit together. “I—we,” he corrects himself, glancing at Cryssa, “need to ask you something.”
I lean back a little and put my hands on my hips. “All right.” When he doesn’t say anything, I cross my arms. “Let’s hear it then.”
“We’ve decided to send representatives of the crown to each of the five Courts,” he starts. His eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at me. A sign that he’s nervous.
What could he need to ask me?
“After my father’s—after what happened to my father and the curse,” Viridian continues, evening his tone, “Cryssa and I need a strong presence outside of Keuron. To ease the beginning of our reign.”
I press my lips together, my jaw tightening. The end of Vorr’s reign was wrought with tension. So much so, that he’d ordered a complete lockdown on High Keep—no one in, and no one out.
That tension only worsened when he died.
One week ago, Viridian’s father was murdered.
Here.
In the castle.
Right under our noses.
And despite the lockdown order, the perpetrator vanished, seemingly without a trace, slipping right through our fingers like a sieve catching sand.
Less than two hours after Vorr was killed, angry, desperate humans stormed High Keep. Their numbers overwhelmed us, nearly killing Cryssa in the process. She took an iron arrow for Viridian, and in sacrificing herself for him, broke the curse that had been poisoning the land, infecting miners of a mysterious sickness, and draining the earth of the precious metals that are essential to the kingdom’s prosperity.
Since then, we’ve begun searching for Vorr’s murderer. But with the chaos that ensued that night, and the damage done to High Keep, repairs and caring for our own has taken precedence. Though I want nothing more than to find Vorr’s killer and make them pay for what they’ve done, my duty is to my people and my High King. Restoring High Keep to its former glory and caring for the wounded is my priority. My thirst for justice can wait.
For now.
Still, High Keep is restless. Fear permeates the castle walls. Even I look over my shoulder, clutching the hilts of my steel short swords when I do. Our sense of safety has been stolen from us, pierced by the blade that ended the life of our last king.
“You know how important it is that the people feel heard,” Cryssa adds, fire burning in her gaze. “The curse may be broken, but humans, our people, are uneasy. They don’t know us, or how we’ll rule.”
“Right,” Viridian agrees. “We’ve convinced the council to back this initiative. Now, more than ever, we need stability.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” I tell them. “You know I’ll always defend your command. ”
Not that I’ve ever been one for politics. Making decisions that impact the lives of many on a much larger scale, navigating unclear, interpersonal matters…. It’s never been something I’ve been good at. If anything, I’ve made it my mission to steer clear of politics.
Fighting isn’t delicate the way politics are. There’s no need to decipher people and try to read between the lines, or to understand what’s been left unsaid. No, in combat, what you see is what you get. A skilled warrior can determine their opponent’s strengths and weaknesses just by looking at them. With politics, one can never tell what’s true and what’s not. Who is a threat, and who is an ally.
Cryssa and Viridian look at each other and then back at me expectantly.
Placing my hands on my hips, I straighten my back. Wariness settles into the back of my mind, and something in the way they’re looking at me tells me I won’t like what’s about to come next.
“So, what do you need me for?” I ask.
“We’d like you to be our representative in the Steel Court,” Viridian says slowly, as if to brace himself for my response.
I stare at him blankly. “What?”
“We’d like you to act on our behalf.” Viridian searches my expression. “It would require you to return to Illnamoor.” He swallows, before taking a breath. “To your mother’s Court.”
“You…” My voice trails off, and I swear my hands start to shake. With anger or panic, I can’t tell which. “You can’t be serious.”
“We’re serious, Lymseia,” Cryssa says, her voice soft. “We wouldn’t have come to you if we weren’t.”
I shake my head, my chest rising and falling with my quickening breaths. “Choose someone else,” I demand. “Anyone but me.”
Viridian exhales, as if he already knew this was coming. “There’s no one else. Your mother is Head of House. Her loyalties are to her Court, above all, as they should be. The very nature of her position means that we cannot rely on her to prioritize the crown’s goals above her own. And your sister…” He pauses. “I can’t say I know Vestella well enough.”
“Fine, not her then.” I frown. “There must be someone else.”
“Lymseia,” Viridian says, as though to beg me to reconsider. “Trust me, I know you don’t want this. You must believe that we wouldn’t have come to you if we had any other choice.”
Fighting the anxiety that grips my chest, I force myself to calm down. He’s right. I know that he’s right. I’m the clear choice. The best option. Still, the thought of returning to my mother’s Court has discomfort twisting in my abdomen. I’ve never felt at home there. Here, at High Keep, among the High King’s Guard, was the first place that I ever felt like I truly belonged.
And now Viridian wants me to leave .
“When would I be expected to depart?” I ask, reining in my emotions.
Viridian’s jaw tightens. “As soon as possible.”
I lower my voice. “How long would I be gone?”
“We don’t know,” Viridian admits. “However long it takes to reassure the human communities that the crown will not abandon them.”
“And however long it takes for the noble fae to accept our way of doing things,” Cryssa adds, a bitter edge to her tone. As a demi-fae that was raised human, Cryssa knows all too well what little regard most noble fae have for humans. It will take time to shift how the Courts, and the kingdom as a whole, is run.
The realization grips my stomach.
They want me to be away from High Keep indefinitely.
“But I have responsibilities here. You can’t just send me away,” I protest, crossing my arms. “I’m the Captain of the High King’s Guard.”
“We’ve granted you a higher position,” Viridian tells me, carefully observing my expression. “As a diplomat.”
“Then who will take my place?” I ask, pressing my palm to my brow. “You can’t pick just anyone.”
“We need someone we can trust. We need you, Lymseia,” Viridian pleads, his amber eyes genuine. “If you accept this assignment, then you will be solely responsible for choosing your successor. And we will appoint them without question. Deal? ”
At High Keep, I continue to prove myself again and again. Each time I get back up after a fight, I prove myself a warrior. Back home, in Illnamoor, I’ve never been able to do that. I’ve never been able to win my mother’s favor. I’ve never been able to follow in her footsteps.
As a diplomat, I’ll fail.
Closing my eyes, I attempt to banish the image of the inevitable disappointment on my mother’s face. The phantom sting of it lingers on my cheeks, and it makes me feel like a child again.
I’m not the one for this. Gods above, I can’t be.
“What of Myrdin?” I ask, grasping for any excuse I can think of. “He’ll be terribly bored while I’m gone.”
“Myrdin’s already agreed to represent us in Redbourne,” Viridian says.
Opening my eyes, I curse under my breath. Of course, he has. Unlike me, Myrdin was born for this. Easy-going and light-hearted, he’s adept at navigating social situations. If there was anyone who could convince even the stubbornest noble fae to see reason, it would be Myrdin. He’s the clear choice for a diplomat to act on Cryssa and Viridian’s behalf. Besides, he’d much rather be in Redbourne, the Copper Court’s capital, and his home city. As much as he enjoys his time here in Keuron, he’d always choose Redbourne if given the option.
“Please, Lymseia,” Viridian says, desperation bleeding through his words. “Consider it, at the very least.”
“I am considering it,” I tell him through gritted teeth.
Cryssa touches her palm to his forearm and gives it a light, comforting squeeze. He turns his face to hers, meeting her eyes.
Gods be damned.
I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this.
But I can’t find it in myself to deny them. No matter how much I want to dig my heels into the stone and hold my ground.
“Fine,” I grumble. “I’ll do it. I’ll go to Illnamoor on your behalf.” Quickly, I add, “But I’m not going anywhere until my position is filled.”
“Very well.” Viridian—and Cryssa—sigh in relief. His eyes meet mine, shining with genuine gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Yes, yes, whatever.” I wave him off. “Don’t thank me until I return. There’s still time for you to regret appointing me as your representative.”
Viridian gives me a look like I’ve said something far-fetched. “There’s no one more capable for this position than you, Lymseia.”
I swallow.
“Tell us immediately once you’ve chosen your successor,” Viridian says, an air of authority coloring his words.
“Of course,” I reply with a bow of my head. “I won’t spare a moment.”
That seems to appease him. “Good.” His expression softens. “Thank you, again, Lymseia. You have no idea how much you’ve done for us already.”
I only nod and take a deep breath. He looks so sincere, so reassured, that I can’t bring myself to tell him that his faith in me is gravely misplaced. Sending me to Illnamoor, trusting me to make alliances on his and Cryssa’s behalf, will not bring peace to the realm.
If anything, my failure will become the very blade that shatters the kingdom.