Chapter Twenty-Three
Lark
The celebrations are… fine. I feel none of the giddiness, or even the relief, that suffuses amongst the other fae. Even Oisin seems lighter, despite his concern and disappointment in me, and despite the fact that Ophelia, Dante, and Grant have left.
I spend most of the night dwelling on that.
The crown is heavier, and the impact it has is heavier still.
Fae who would have approached me even a few hours ago give both Oisin and me a wide berth now.
There are eager glances, of course. Those desperate to be added to our new court, because it is apparent that with an Unseelie and a Seelie sitting on the throne, everything will change.
Zomo stays close. Veles too, and his eyes are sharp. I have no doubt he knows that something happened during the ceremony, but he will not mention it until he has the measure of what is wrong.
I beg off once the moon is high. The sky is full of stars again, glittering in the blackness, and I meander back up to the castle and then to my room.
I do not step into the greenhouse. I cannot. Instead, I go to my room, where I do not even undress before I fall onto the bed. Well, with the exception of the crown. That, I set aside, feeling as though it somehow has eyes upon me.
This is to be the rest of my existence, I suppose, though I am uncertain how long I will endure it. I sigh and close my eyes. Perhaps I should approach Veles first instead. He should have known better than to grant me a crown. He would have been able to tell that I am not strong enough.
I fall asleep that way and wake up to sunlight streaming through the windows and someone hammering on the door to my rooms. I groan and sit up, uncaring that I am wearing yesterday’s clothes and have clearly not groomed myself as I head over to the door.
My joints ache. Muscles pull over bone in a way I have never experienced before. And beyond it all, my head pounds, the feel as though someone has reached a hand inside my skull and decided to squeeze.
Oisin glares at me when I open the door, taking me in with a glance. He pushes past me and I close the door behind him.
Our first day as co-rulers is going well, it seems.
“We need to talk about this,” he says, standing in the centre of the room. “Wards?”
I feel for them. They are intact, but I feed them a meagre amount of power all the same, ensuring that even if someone had their ear pressed up against the door, they would not hear us. “Set.”
“You’re Seelie.”
I blink at him. “Yes. We established this yesterday.”
Oisin shakes his head and drops onto the sofa, staring straight ahead. He wears his crown askew. Mine still sits in the bedroom, faintly pulsing in time with my headache.
“I know. I simply… How does no one else know? How did nobody notice?”
“Why would they suspect it?” I say with a shrug.
I lower myself, with a wince, into one of the armchairs.
“No fae would test the magic of one of their princes. And besides that, Ronan was the only one of us anyone saw, while he still lived. If they needed information, they ran off to Iagan. I was unnoticed.”
I am beginning to suspect that was entirely the point.
And I am beginning to understand, too, just how desperate my mother was as my father began to fade.
To risk centuries of secrets in order to sit me on the throne…
I frown, turning my head to glance at the window.
She knew the oak was dying. Of that, I have no doubt.
“Is that why you left?” Oisin asks.
“No.”
He frowns when I don’t elaborate. I suppose he expects he is entitled to such knowledge now that we are bonded, but there are some things I do not wish to share right now.
“Fine,” he says with a huff. “What do we do?”
“My parents were both Unseelie and they wore the crowns well enough. We will be—” I cannot force the next word out. Oisin growls.
“You felt the tree just as well as I did. And it almost killed you.”
“I would not have died.”
“You are hurting still now.” Oisin’s gaze sears through me. “How long do you truly believe you can endure this?”
“I do not know,” I admit when it is clear he will wait stubbornly for an answer. “Weeks. Perhaps.”
Oisin exhales heavily through his nose and turns his face to the window. He must be at least reasonably calculating to have ended up in my uncle’s orbit, and I wonder what he is calculating now. Who might take my place, most likely.
“Why do you believe this has happened?” he asks.
“I do not know that either. I am staying here to fulfil my fate. If I do not…” I do not want to tell him of the bargain I made with the witch, but I have little choice. “If I do not, then Dante will die.”
Oisin’s eyes widen. “That is the deal you struck?”
“Yes.”
“So you must remain here, even if it kills you?”
“Yes.”
“And you did not…” He frowns again, pursing his lips in thought. “What was the wording of the deal you made? Exactly.”
I sigh. There is nothing to be done about it, but under other circumstances, I might appreciate the effort he is putting in when there is no need for him to.
“I asked the witch to take my power. All of it but that which would be required to sustain me, to wear a glamour all the time, and to raise wards around one dwelling of my choice.”
“And in return?”
“She could use the rest as she wished. I believed I had no need of it.”
“So you… You didn’t make a condition about coming back?”
I frown. I did, I remember, but still, I manage to say, “I did not.”
“What did she say to you?”
“I—” My head pounds. The memory is… hazy. Hidden, where the rest of that day is not. “I do not know,” I whisper. “All I remember is agreeing that if I ever did wish for my power back, I would have to fulfil my fate, or both I and my soulbond would perish.”
“Why would you agree to that?” Oisin shakes his head. “You never planned to return. Even when you found out the realm was dying—”
When Iagan came to me months ago and told me that Mother had died, I knew what it meant.
I did not care. There are enough fae here; enough that there should be at least one powerful enough to wear a crown and stave that death off for a while longer.
Veles could have done that himself, and I have no doubt he had considered it if things became truly desperate.
It is why Iagan, too, did not cross back over. He is as powerful as I am—no, likely more so.
Even in the face of death, I did not want to return. It was not a surprise to me. Ten years ago, it would not have been unreasonable to think it either.
Why would I agree to such a condition? I would never suggest it. Not after laying eyes on Dante even once, and by then I had observed him a hundred times.
“I do not know,” I murmur.
Oisin leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Might she be behind this? The witch?” The words are hardly more than a whisper, as though she might somehow hear them.
Perhaps she can. My wards are strong for a fae, but her power outstrips any I have ever known. I sit up a little straighter.
“Why would she not wear a crown?”
Oisin faintly laughs. “What?”
“She is the most powerful fae in this realm. I have felt it. Why would Veles not go to her and ask?”
“I do not…” Oisin looks as lost as I felt earlier, and my stomach sinks.
If she has been manipulating us all, then why?
The crowns would not drain her power completely, and although fae do not go out of their way to see her, it is only because of how intimidating she is.
She clearly does not mind it. Does not mind how powerful she is, and the crowns would only cement that power.
I can understand a person not wishing to sit upon the throne at all, of course. But if she did manipulate me into accepting terms of a deal I would otherwise have never considered…
Why?
“Call Veles,” I say, and Oisin shakes his head.
“I don’t think—”
“We need to speak with him.”
“Why?”
“Because we sent our soulbonds out into the world with no protection. Whatever game she is playing, if she is playing it, then they are not safe.”
Oisin presses his lips together in a thin line and nods once before he gets to his feet and leaves the room. I collapse back into the armchair. Weeks, I said, but prodding at my magic now, I think I might have less time left than that.
Wearing the crown… I believed it to be my fate, and she did not lie and tell me it was, but she implied it.
And I believed her. I rub a hand over my face.
I have no idea if the bond between Oisin and me can be broken, not now that we have taken the crowns.
At least he should not fade when I die. Perhaps he will have a chance for his own escape then, because the more that dread curls in my stomach, the more I believe he, too, needs to escape this realm entirely.
It is not long before he returns, ushering Veles into the room before him. The older fae is cantankerous at the best of times, and I hear his grumbling, but he pauses when he sets his eyes on me, face falling.
“Ah. I had thought I was fooling myself.”
“The crown is draining me,” I say with a sigh and push myself up in the armchair again. “Please. Sit.”
Veles does, perching on the edge of the sofa as though he wishes to be anywhere other than here. Oisin sits more comfortably next to him.
“Why did you not allow Aodhan to try the crowns?” I ask. He must not have. Otherwise, my uncle would have given up or sought power some other way.
“I knew they would drain him.”
“How?”
Veles narrows his eyes. “How?” he repeats.
“How did you know? How do you know? I could not tell until I touched the oak, truly, that something was wrong. You have not worn a crown yourself.”
“Never.”
“Then how?”