8. Delphine
A second dealin one day. As much as Icarus claimed the fae of his future court trusted him, it seemed he didn’t fully trust them.
The deal was not made before them, but rather offered in rooms that matched the darkness of his power. His guard left us to him, their absence inspiring more discomfort than their presence. It was because, I realized, as the heavy oak door settled shut behind us and Icarus strode to light a crackling fire in the grate with one single snap of his fingertips, we’d perhaps been safer with the guard present. Alone, here, with this fae, we were vulnerable.
No one would know where we went. No one would know what he did.
That twisting, writhing magic of his was embedded in the rooms that he brought us to. I saw the way it blackened his fingertips when he cast it, and though the expression on his face never changed, I saw the way he flinched ever so slightly in pain. Whatever magic he possessed was nothing like the one that flowed through my veins, nothing like the one I’d seen each of the princes cast in and out of their own courts.
Nyx had mentioned a glamour here unlike the one in Avarath, a glamour that had not faded while Mordrigal slumbered, the deal he made with the human king of Alderia fracturing the magic that held Avarath intact.
And yet, still, something told me this magic Icarus possessed was not that. Not only that. It was ancient. Curdled. Crude.
Icarus turned to face us, his eyes glittering in the firelight. He was watching us all closely, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he spoke.
“I can see the power that runs through your veins, Delphine,” he said softly, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “It’s a power that few have ever possessed, and fewer still understand. But I do. I understand it better than anyone else in this realm. Or yours. Or the next.”
“It’s my power you want, then?” I asked.
But Icarus only smiled.
It was a dark look, just like the rest of him. It didn’t reach his eyes, didn’t convey joy or happiness or mirth. It was the kind of smile that, like his magic, made something inside me twist.
“Of course,” he said. “I want your power, but you need mine.”
He gestured to one of the two chairs beside the fire, and after one glance at Seren and the princes, I settled into it, with Icarus at my side.
Before me, the flames danced with the kind of hypnotic rhythm that only a fire made from magic could. Patterns formed in the oranges and yellows and deep reds that this dark fae had ignited. They moved like bodies twisting and writhing in pain, the same way I felt his magic twist and writhe within me.
Never before did I think I would sit in the human realm and make a deal with another fae. Yet here I was.
Another choice to be made. Another choice that was mine, and mine alone. My kingdom. My power. My fate.
“War is coming,” Icarus began, after enough time staring into the flames had truly begun to cloud my mind. I shook off the feeling, tearing my eyes away—however difficult that was—to lay them to rest on the dark fae’s face. He was undeniable in his beauty, the strangeness of it lending to the mesmerizing aura that only he possessed. But it was just another part of his disguise, the part that made the rest of him, his darkness, a little more palatable. “In Luxia, in my kingdom, and in yours. And I don’t speak just of Alderia. I have my ear to the workings of the faerie realm, though I’ve never had the pleasure to step foot in it.”
There was no point in arguing. No point in secrecy. Not yet, not in this.
So, I admitted it.
“In one day, Mordrigal marches on the Sand Court. He says he comes in peace, but what he really does is declare war.”
Behind me, a low growl issued from the back of Armene’s throat. I knew he felt the distance from his court, from his people, keenly. They all did. I could see it on all of their faces from the moment we learned that Mordrigal had returned, and then again that he came to face us, already. He might pretend not to march on us, but that was exactly what he did. First the Sand Court, then another. And another. And another, until all the courts were his. Deimos would see to that, and then, when Mordrigal was weak and alone, Deimos would take them for himself.
Unless I chose to stand at Deimos’ side. But then he’d take them still, only this time, from me.
That was why I leaned in closer to this strange fae, why I kept my voice as low and steady as I could, even though I could feel the rush of blood in my own ears, nearly so deafening that I drowned myself out.
Icarus studied me for a moment, only to turn and gesture at the fae that stood close at my back. They’d gathered around the back of my chair, their backs straight, their hands at the ready—if not to reach for a sword, but the unique glamour that each one of them possessed.
“You stand united, though, so many courts against just one. Why come to me?”
Even as he said it, however, I saw that sly smile tease at the corner of his mouth. He knew it was not just one court we stood against. Mordrigal had his court, but Deimos had his own. Tethys might have spared his brother, but who knew if he was to be trusted. By the time I faced Mordrigal again, in three days here, in one day’s time in Avarath, it could be three courts we faced. Once Deimos held Nyx in his grasp, four. If we lost Caldamir to his power …
I refused even to think of that.
I knew how much hung in the balance, and so did Icarus. Sure, we stood now, united before him, but it was little more than a facade. A fa?ade that was crumbled and cracking. It was there, still, but for how long?
“What is it you need the most, high king?” Icarus asked, not waiting for me to answer. “I have power, the kind even you can only dream of, so be honest with me.”
“Time,” I blurted out. My gaze shifted first to Seren, and then the others, to the dark tapestry-strewn walls, to the windows that had been blacked out, to the dark candles that, though lit, seemed to only suck more light out of the room than they gave. “We need time.”
I felt stupid, even asking it. Time was the one thing we could not be granted, the one thing even the glamour could not give us. We’d cheated time, already, the only way that we could. But the kind of time that we needed was not days, not weeks, but months, even the glamour couldn’t give us that.
Or so I thought, until that smile that had tugged at the corner of Icarus’ mouth spread until he grinned like a hungry creature of the night that had just discovered its prey. He leaned in closer, his dark eyes boring into mine with the same mesmerizing magic that the brightness of his flames possessed.
Time might not be granted by my glamour, but it seemed the glamour Icarus wielded was a different glamour indeed.
“Time,” he said, “is one thing I can offer. But what will you give me in return?”
His question might as well have been rhetorical. I knew that he already knew what he wanted. He knew we were coming. He might as well have summoned us.
I broke eye contact with him for just long enough to catch sight of Tethys.
Perhaps he had.
There was only one thing he wanted from us. One thing he somehow did not already have, but from the glint in his eye, knew more about that I did.
“You and I, we share a common goal. A common interest. We both need the same thing,” he continued. He snapped his fingers again, and this time a bottle of faerie wine and two goblets appeared. He reached for one of these goblets, but then paused, before handing it to me. I considered for a second if perhaps he’d poisoned it. When he saw my hesitation, he took it back, brought it to his lips, and took a sip. Then he sipped from the first. The second time he handed me the glass, I welcomed the warm sweetness of the faerie wine on my tongue. It was different from the wine I’d tasted before. There was a bitterness to it that the others from Avarath did not possess.
Just like this dark fae’s magic, it had been tainted. Twisted. Shaped and formed differently, by different vines, by a different glamour.
“I need you to learn how to control your magic, to fully command it,” Icarus said. “I can give you the time to do it, but then I’m going to need something in return, something only you can give me.”
“I need fae,” he continued, “from Avarath, for my army.”
This was not the answer I’d been expecting. None of us had.
While Seren and the princes managed to keep their own faces unmoving, undisturbed by the surprise I felt myself, I was not so practiced. I’d never been good at hiding the emotions on my face.
“And how am I supposed to get you an army?” I asked. “How can I spare my fae, my warriors, when I need them now more than ever?”
“It’s not your fae that I need, nor do I want them,” Icarus said. “It’s his fae. Deimos’ fae.”
A shadow fell over his face. “I ask not for an army of the living, but of the already dead.”
A darkness settled over me, leached out from the fae seated before me at his words. He leaned in again. His voice lowered. It remained cordial, friendly almost, but I saw the wicked glint in his eye and knew the truth.
“I know how Deimos’ power works, too,” he said. “When Deimos calls up his army, instead of sending them back to his realm, only for him to call them up again—over and over and over—I want you to send them to me.”
Icarus’ words echoed in my mind after he spoke them, playing over and over as I processed what he said.
I wanted so badly to glance back at Seren, at Caldamir and Tethys and Armene and even Nyx for their guidance. We’d not had the chance yet to discuss the oncoming war, or what the other high kings would be prepared to do, let alone what I could do. I knew I could send a fae to the Afterworld, I’d done it once already with my brother. I’d practiced on beetles and birds. Never on an army. And certainly, I’d never been able to send them anywhere else.
But I’d never tried, never considered it, either.
Whether Icarus had intended it or not, he’d planted the seeds of an idea in my mind. A plan, or at least, the start of it.
I knew my hesitation revealed enough as it was, and since time was not on our side, I decided not to waste it by asking for time alone with my council.
“How do you know I can do this, with my power?” I asked. I tried to sound suspicious, not curious, but from that glint that remained in his eye, I knew I wasn’t successful.
“I know one thing very well, and that is the glamour,” Icarus said. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, my brand of that magic is very … unique … to me. That’s not by mere coincidence. Most fae are molded by their glamour. But I found ways to mold it to me.”
I glanced down then, just for a second, at the darkened tips of his fingers. They were black and wrinkled, as if the life had been sucked out of them even for their small use of the magic. The sight of it once again made a pit settle in my stomach, made the glamour in my veins tighten as if it wanted to draw back itself.
“I know more about your glamour than you do,” Icarus said, “I’d be willing to bargain on it. In fact, that’s exactly what I’m bargaining on. I don’t need your power, Delphine, but I want it. It will make my road forward all the easier. But if you won’t give it to me, I’ll find another who can. Or, at least, another way. My road ahead is certain, where I end up is certain, all I must do is pick the path that leads me to it. Yours, on the other hand, is not so certain.”
He sat back, hands tenting between him, those black fingertips touching like blackened matches. “Tell me, am I wrong?”
He was not. About any of it.
His bargain seemed fair. Far fairer than the one that Deimos had offered me. He wanted my power, and in exchange, he would teach me how to use it.
He’d already given me something, a plan I’d not thought of before, something to take into the discussions with Seren and the others as we worked out how to proceed in the coming days, how to defeat or join Deimos.
I studied Icarus, and I knew he’d done that on purpose. He’d not accidentally revealed something to me before I agreed to his deal. He’d given me a small gift, a gesture of goodwill, something to show me that he had something of value to offer me.
He believed I had enough power in me, with enough training, to send back an entire army. I had no idea how many fae Deimos had in his realm, but I knew the fae that were sent there were the kind to be reckoned with. They were fae that had been judged, fae that had died of unnatural causes—fae who had died in battle. Fae did not simply perish from old age after a long and peaceful life. The army that he alone possessed the power to call up was more than formidable. But it was also one that I alone could send back.
Not just to him, but to another realm—if Icarus was right.
I wondered if Deimos knew this, that I had this power. That I could send fae to another realm instead of his, to a place where they were outside of my grasp. If he did, then he was betting on me not having the practice or the power yet to do it.
My mind turned, thoughts flitting by so fast it was difficult to grasp at every one.
We’d found a way to the human realm undetected. And, so long as Tethys’ brother did not betray him again, we had the element of surprise on our side. Even if Nereus did betray him, how much could Deimos guess? That we had three more days to plan, to plot, to make our decision? That was not enough time for me to hone my powers to such a strength, let alone to learn how to send any army between different realms. But with enough time …
“How much time are we talking about?” I asked.
Icarus considered this a moment. “How much time do you have?”
“Three days here,” I said. “Give or take.”
He considered again. “Then I can give you six months.”
I felt the shift behind me, felt the moment the skepticism in their faces turned to something more like hope. Or perhaps not quite hope. They felt possibility.
Six months. Six months of dedication, of study. That might be enough. That had to be enough.
I took in a deep breath, and for the first time in a long time, it felt steady.
So, Icarus knew my position, but he didn’t know all the details, or at least he hadn’t revealed them. I felt a small sense of relief at that. Nereus’ attempted betrayal had worried me.
Less than an hour had passed in Avarath before we came before him, perhaps little more before we left, and already I thought he’d known about the deal Deimos had offered. But all he’d said was that he knew Mordrigal marched on us. If that was all that the other fae knew, then it meant at least we still had a decision to make. We could still choose to fight with Deimos, though that option seemed to grow further and further from my mind with each passing moment.
What Icarus had revealed, however, was that the rest of faerie likely knew that Deimos was getting involved in this fight, and that they thought he marched on Mordrigal’s side. It would make for contention in the courts. No matter how much the fae believed in their princes, in their kings, it would make them wonder if it was wise to stand up against them.
Especially if they thought we had abandoned them, already.
I wondered how many would stand when they learned Mordrigal’s part of the deal, that he would have to remain seated on the human throne as part of it.
That was what they wanted, after all, in the first war. They wanted Mordrigal out of faerie. The courts may appear united now, with all their leaders standing together, but would they remain that way once the true odds were stacked against them?
My mind didn’t just reel, it raced.
In my silence, however, the princes finally could not hold their own.
Behind me, Seren finally stepped forward from the dark.
“They’ll be tainted with Deimos’ shadows,” Seren interrupted. “Those fae, the ones that Deimos pulls up from Afterworld, they are poisoned by him.”
Icarus responded without pause. “I’m not afraid of shadows. I am shadow.”
At his command, the room darkened.
“When Delphine sends the fae between the realms, Deimos’ hold on them will break. The passage between will scrub them free of Deimos’ power. I know I don’t have Delphine or Deimos’ power, but I have power. I have one akin to it. And more than that, I have the ability to create the time that I need to wield it to my greatest advantage. Unlike you, I don’t need you, Delphine. If you refuse me, I’ll find another way. I’ll find my own way. But you, you need me. You need my power. And you need it now.”
Armene was next.
“This army that you’re building, what do you plan to do with it?”
His question was, of course, the one I’d been too involved in my own war, my own deals, my own courts to ask. Or, perhaps, I’d been too afraid to ask. There was only one thing a fae needed an army like that for. And it was for a war of his own.
“I have my own kingdom to conquer,” he said. “I already have my own army. But what general doesn’t want a bigger army. A better army. Odds are in my favor, I can promise you that, but I want to tip them so that they are overwhelmingly so.”
I wished I could appreciate his honesty, but his confidence only made that pit in my stomach tighten further. He spoke not with an unearned confidence, an overconfidence, but with the kind of sureness that could only be earned. He knew what he said to be true. It was not an opinion, not something propped up by delusions of grandeur.
“And army like that, it would be formidable enough for you to march on other kingdoms,” Armene said. “Perhaps enough to march on other realms.”
“Yes,” Icarus admitted, again without so much as a moment’s hesitation. “And I’ll not promise that my lust for power will not fuel me to do that one day. But tell me, in what world is there not an adversary for your power? Another king, another prince, who wants more than his fair share?”
I felt again, reached even to feel more deeply, that twisted power of his. I hated the way it simultaneously reached back and shrank away, as if it was so perverted that this magic itself did not know what it was. It was one thing to stand against not one, but two adversaries that we understood, that we could prepare for…but to stand against one that was not only a mystery to us, but had such great power that he could even turn time against us? That was what weighted my judgment against him. Sure, Icarus was right, there would be others. If I lived long as long the fae did, we’d see others rise. We’d have to face them, fight them, risk losing to them. Even in courts as united as ours could be, with the bond that we all now shared greater even than the one the princes had shared before, we’d be fools to think we’d reached an everlasting peace.
But Icarus … this dark fae was not one to be ignored. Not one to be treated lightly. Underrating the threat he would very likely pose to us, the threat he was all but admitting to, would be our downfall if we allowed it.
He was an adversary, perhaps more dangerous than our other ones combined, but he was not our adversary yet. And without time on our side, that couldn’t be discounted or ignored, either.
We could sit here and discuss details, pry more from this dark fae that was not yet this kingdom’s ruler, but that would only waste the one thing that we did not yet have.
“I think you’ve given us enough to think about,” I said. “We need to discuss this now, amongst ourselves.”
“Of course,” Icarus said, nodding his head. Even as he did it, the door opened behind us, and a fae servant waited for us to follow. “But let me be frank with you, every hour that passes here, sixty more pass in the realm I could take you to. Tomorrow, I can give you six months. Tonight, I could give you months more. Remember that. I can give you time, high king, but only you can choose to accept it.”