Chapter Twenty-Five
Lark
Oisin returns to my rooms in the afternoon, but he does not remain for long. I am uncertain whether he does not wish to be there or he does not wish to look at me.
I am getting worse. Exponentially so. And yet I cannot sleep, even with the moon as high as she is now. Instead, I leave the warded safety of my rooms and wander out into the castle’s halls.
It has been so long since I have walked this place.
Even before I left this realm, I spent little time here; I had my own residence at a settlement a few hours away, one in which another fae now resides.
I shake my head at the thought. That place never meant much to me.
I walked between realms long before Dante was born, waiting for him, even if I did not know him at the time.
I walked this realm, too, always restless.
I consider that as I turn down another hallway. I pause midway down it and turn to look at the walls. They are rough stone, as is much of the castle beyond the main entrance and throne room. That is where Oisin and I will be presented on the new moon. Should I last that long.
But here… I lift my hand and press it against the stone. It does not speak to me the way plants do, but there is something living deep inside of it nonetheless. I feel an ancient, dormant power, and for a moment, it soothes me.
“Your belief in your fate will kill you,” the witch says.
I do not jolt in surprise, despite the fact I am in no way expecting her to be here. When I turn my head, she is standing at the end of the hall, watching me. I see no compassion or sympathy in her face. Her expression is as hard as the stone beneath my fingertips.
“My fate was to be tricked by a fae, apparently,” I say dryly. “I believe in that. I suppose you are right.”
She inclines her head, and her smile is mocking. Her footsteps make no sound as she walks down the corridor, and she stops just before me. I do not let go of the stone.
“Not only your fate,” she murmurs. “Or did you forget about your soulbond so easily?”
The blood in my veins turns to ice. “No. He is safe.”
“You think my powers cannot extend into that realm?”
I stand a little straighter. “I know they cannot. The veil will stop them.”
Now her smile is strained at the edges. I am right. Iagan strengthened the veil because of fae just like her. She cannot reach through it, and she cannot leave this place.
“You had Aodhan kidnap Ophelia. Why?”
“I had thought he might make the trip himself. I do not know why. No one in your family likes to get their hands dirty when it comes to it. He sent Seelie instead. He schemes against me and believes I do not notice because he is even more a fool than you are.”
“Why did they take her?”
“They took the witch they found with a fae soulbond,” the witch says. “Unfortunate that two of them live in such close quarters, but all the sweeter for me. I did not expect to meet him, or the vampire you brought along with you. What an interesting group of friends you have.”
“You wanted me to come back. Why?”
“To suffer. As your parents should have suffered, and did, in the end. Your brother went quickly, and that was mostly on his own head. Iagan…” She trails off, thinking.
“He is often unpredictable, even to me. But you? You are eminently predictable, Larkspur, even when you believe yourself not to be.”
Larkspur. Not my true name; even I do not know that.
A fae’s true name is hidden to all but their own sight, and it is a fool’s errand to go and find it because then it could be betrayed to another.
But Larkspur is the name my parents gave me.
As though they knew, upon my birth, that I was not like the rest of them.
“Predictable?”
“Hmm.” She places her hand against the wall, next to mine.
“You have sympathy where you pretend you do not. You fear more than any fae I have ever known. I had no doubt you would run back to save your soulbond, but any fae would do that. It was whether you would stay. And then you would know, in the small amount of time you had left, that your inability to truly abandon your kin would be the end of you and your soulbond both.”
“He is not here. The deal cannot reach him in his realm.”
“Who said he made it through?” the witch says. “Did you feel the veil open for his passing?”
She—I snarl, but I cannot move to do anything to her. I cannot move at all. She has coaxed the stone while I have been distracted, and it curls around my ankles, holding me in place.
“I do not wish for you to die by my hand, Lark,” she says. “Well, not like this. I swore to your mother that I would never lay a hand on you to harm you, and so I have not. You walked into your own fate. You welcomed death with open arms.”
“You tricked me. The deal… You added terms.”
“She never said I could not do that, either,” the witch replies. “I suppose she was rather overwhelmed at the time. Only had the ability to cover the basics. But then, so was I.”
“What do you want then? Why have me stay—”
Wards flare. They’re deep within the castle, from Ronan’s former rooms.
“You—”
“Your uncle is furious with both of you,” the witch continues in that same conversational tone.
She has nothing to fear, of course. Why would she?
Even if I had all my power, I could not hope to beat her.
“I convinced him that Oisin was the greater threat. That he fills his head with dreams of Seelie freedom, of only Seelie sitting on the throne… He does not know the truth of you.”
“That I’m Seelie, too, or that it doesn’t matter?”
“Either. Or. That matters little to me, too.”
“If he kills Oisin, this realm is done for. He is the only one of us who can wear a crown.”
“Hence the other reason for pushing your uncle in that direction. We have a few months left. There are plenty of fae who cannot cross the veil. The Guardians will not allow them passage, and even if they change their minds on that front, it will be too late.”
“You’ll have them die here with you.”
Her face turns vicious in an instant, shadows pulling and twisting around her.
“Yes. How easy it was for them all to dismiss me when your parents insisted. Your mother took the love I had for them both and twisted it, had me weave wards into the veil that would ensure no one would ever know the truth. And I did it! I did it because I thought it might convince them both to keep me, but—”
“They didn’t. You’re condemning everyone here. Most of these fae were not even alive when my parents were crowned.”
She scoffs. “This didn’t happen before their coronation,” she says slowly. “Not all of it. Most of it happened after your brother was born.”
“Ronan?”
“Iagan.”
Something about the way she says his name makes my stomach sink. She stares off into the distance for a moment before her gaze snaps to my face. The wards have not flared again. I can only hope Oisin felt them in time, that he has avoided my uncle’s wrath.
“Let me go.”
“You cannot help him.”
“I did nothing to you,” I growl, “and you are killing me. You. Let me do this one thing.”
The witch studies my face. “You wish for my sympathy.”
“No. I want a chance. You stacked the odds against me, against all of us. Oisin does not deserve to die for the games you are playing.”
She bares her teeth, but the stone around my ankles loosens. “Let him kill you too then. You do not have long left as it is.”
I turn and run. It does not matter. Oisin has not entered into a deal with the witch, and although she wants this realm to fall—which it likely will when I die, if Veles does not manage to find a strong enough successor—prolonging our suffering seems to please her, too.
When I reach Ronan’s former rooms, the door is open. Magic sparks within, but no one is using it right now. I dare not reach out. What if Aodhan is waiting for me? Unless he made a deal with the witch, he might kill me anyway.
“Come in, Lark,” Oisin says. He sounds tired.
I enter the rooms. Aodhan must have lashed out as soon as he broke through the wards, for the entire place is in disarray, furniture upturned and glass shattered.
Oisin stands in the centre, surveying the damage.
His hand is pressed to the back of his head and when he pulls it away, the tips of his fingers are red.
“Are you injured?”
He dismisses me with a glance. “I am faring far better than you are. He ran when I fought back. The crowns might siphon some of our magic, but they grant us more power to draw upon should the situation call for it. What a pleasant surprise.”
I grunt in agreement, stepping further into the room. Oisin turns his attention from the mess to me.
“He did not try your rooms?”
I reach out and the wards, not all that far away, reach back. They are undisturbed. “No. But I was not there.”
“Where were you? We said he could be a threat!”
“I met the witch in the halls.”
Oisin’s back goes rigid. “She’s here?” His power floods into the wards, strengthening them, even if that will do little to stop her.
Well, maybe not. She seems to care nothing at all for Oisin, so I do not think she will expend the energy to kill him. If Aodhan cannot finish the job, it does not matter to her.
What matters is that I suffer. My parents, Ronan, and I… I am not certain about Iagan’s fate in her eyes. He means something to her, but I do not have the time to get to the bottom of it.
“She was. Is. I am unsure.” I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. The aches that have wracked my body all day are becoming worse. “I do not believe Dante and the others made it through the veil.”
“What?” That one word is as sharp as the crack of a whip. “They cannot—We must—”
“Find them, yes.” Except I can think of little past the pounding in my head and the desperate urge to close my eyes and sleep. Will pushing Dante through the veil save him? I might have enough power to force it open. It would be the last of me if I did that. “My rooms. Now.”
Oisin does not argue, following me agreeably from his rooms, though he is careful to close the doors behind us and drag together the tatters of his wards. I collapse onto the sofa once we’re inside and he watches me in silence.
“She did this,” I say. The pieces are falling into place. “She tricked me into believing my fate is to wear a crown. I swore I would fulfil my fate or my soulbond and I would perish, and that deal is draining my magic.”
Oisin nods, understanding instantly. “The crowns are draining the rest. And the others? Ophelia?”
I do not believe Dante is dead. I truly believe I would know if he were. “She and Aodhan have trapped them here, and now—Dante will not survive. Not for long.”
“Perhaps longer than you,” Oisin says and shrugs when I glare at him. “He has little in the way of magic. The deal you made… It may not have its claws in him.”
That is unlikely, but then we both know that.
He is trying to make me feel better, but that is not what I need.
“Regardless,” I say, the word painful, “Ophelia and Grant are with him. That is, if Aodhan has not killed Grant outright. I have no doubt he will have tried to defend them when they were taken.”
Oisin nods. “What do you want me to do?”
“We need to find them. Or you—You need to find them. Make sure all three of them get through the veil, if you can. If not…”
“I’ll send her back,” Oisin says quietly. “All three of them will get back.”
Whether or not they are alive when he does that is another question entirely.
“I did not know that it was Aodhan’s villa I was visiting,” he continues. “The fae I met always passed it off as his own.”
“Who is he?”
“No one you would have heard of, but like most Seelie, he is dismayed with how we have been treated. I thought he was looking for a more peaceful solution. He contacted me after Aodhan first took me to the court.”
“And now?”
Oisin scoffs. “Aodhan was working with him the entire time, wasn’t he? It was likely that fae who pointed me out. He wanted me to push back against rulings that would unfairly affect Seelie fae—which I did. I would have always done that. But now…”
“Now,” I murmur. “Now none of them will get what they want. The witch will see this realm destroyed.”
“Huh.”
We sit in silence. My eyes slip closed, but I do not fall into slumber. I still sense Oisin sitting across from me, deep in his own contemplation.
“I will go at first light,” he says, and it takes effort for me to open my eyes again.
“You… will?”
“To find them,” he says. “I would go sooner, but I fear leaving you vulnerable when Aodhan might be near.”
“He likely is. He won’t kill me.”
“You don’t know that, and you know there are worse fates. You still have some life left in you.” Oisin bares his teeth. “Cling to it.”
I try to shake away my lethargy, only half succeeding. “Very well. Do you believe we can trust Veles?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“You are the one who has been with the court these past decades. You will have a better measure of him than me.”
Oisin taps his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Yes,” he says finally. “I believe so. He took the crowns and did not wear them. I saw the way Aodhan tried to pressure him into handing one over. He did not submit.”
“Good. Once we have found them, we need to speak with the Guardians. I will try to contact them in the morning, too. Veles should join us. Zomo, too. If we cannot find another person who can wear the crowns in time, then our people need another option.”
“Our people?”
I lean forward, fixing him with a stare. “Are they not? They put us on those thrones as their rulers, which means we are to protect them. They do not know what is coming.”
“What about your brother?”
“Iagan?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “After everything… I am not convinced any of the three of us should truly bear one of these crowns. Regardless, he likely will not return.”
“Will he help us cross?”
“Perhaps. He may fight it. I fear I have never truly known where his allegiances lie either.”
Oisin’s lips twitch. “Has anyone?” he asks, and I cannot help my answering smile.
A noise reaches me from the hall. Aodhan? Surely, he would not be so careless, but I did not ask Oisin if he injured him, and he might be unable to move as stealthily. Across from me, Oisin gets to his feet. His fingers twitch by his side as he slowly approaches the door.
Another footstep. And then… voices. Whispering. I frown. That is not Aodhan; he would not be so careless, and besides, he came alone. He and the witch would not be conferring in the corridor before they leapt in to kill us.
Oisin approaches the door, but before he can reach it, it flings open, the wards fluttering as magic pushes against them.
Grant sticks his head inside and grins. “Miss us?”