4. Lysandra
For three mortal years, I trained for this moment. Three years getting my ass kicked daily until I learned to fight back. Three years studying information on each member of each royal family in each court until my brain felt full. Three years honing my wit and cunning until it was as strong as my magic.
I hate to admit Vlad was right, but my father hadn’t prepared me enough. He shielded me from the nastier side of Faerie instead of letting me embrace it and manipulate it to my will. Vlad held nothing back in my training, and I’ve never been more ready to step through these walls and claim my destiny.
“My baby’s all grown up.” The vampire sniffles beside me, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. I know his joke is meant to distract me, but I’m too nervous to laugh. Somehow, all the training didn’t prepare me for this instant—for staring at the Spring Court palace.
My heels clack over the wooden planks of the drawbridge, the moat below glowing aqua and only impeded by the shadows of monsters that lurk beneath the water. Kelpies, I believe they’re called. We continue beneath the palace wall, which is so thick that the arch feels more like a hallway; it’s covered in ivy and glowing faerie lights that mimic the stars.
“Welcome home,” Vlad murmurs as we finally enter the palace grounds. It doesn’t matter how many maps or paintings I’ve studied, the grounds are breathtaking and bigger than I could have imagined. Even in the dark, it seems to glow with an ethereal brilliance. Flowering trees, small gardens, and bubbling fountains dot a lawn the length of several football fields between the outer walls and the palace.
The Spring Court Palace looks like its straight out of medieval Europe. It’s made of thick, sturdy stones with towers so tall they block out the stars. The lower levels are covered in rows upon rows of flowers, some of which are night-blooming, their white, shimmering petals drinking in the moonlight.
Vlad doesn’t take me to the main door—a wooden monstrosity with painted flowers in every shade—but through a much smaller door that leads to a stone hallway. He moves so quickly I barely have time to take in my surroundings before we stop before a pair of oak doors. He holds up a hand, listening with his superior senses, then nods.
“Almost time.”
I smooth the front of my dress, which reminds me of a pinup girl more than a queen, but I deferred to Vlad’s judgment on this one. The black dress is spotted with tiny plum flowers the same shade as my hair and is tied in a halter at my neck, leaving my back and wings exposed. It hugs my frame to my waist before flaring out into an A-line skirt that ends just below my knee. My short hair is swept back in a simple chignon, leaving the bare expanse of my shoulders—and cleavage—exposed.
“Remember, this is your birthright,” Vlad says, leaning forward ever so slightly and cocking his head to the side, listening. “And don’t give your last name.”
Names have power in Faerie, so while everyone has a last name, it’s never used.
I lift my chin and roll my shoulders down, standing as tall as I can. My mother gave me her short stature, and even with heels, I’m barely average height. Several, if not most, of the Fae in this room will tower over me, so I need to project power in any way I can.
“Three,” Vlad counts down. “Two.” He grabs the handles and gives me a toothy smile. “One.”
The doors burst open, clattering against the wall with a sharp clang that makes every head in the room turn abruptly. The room is taken up by a wooden table with chairs so large they almost don’t fit beside one another. It strikes me odd that there’s no plant life here besides the stenciled vines along the border and the view of the hedge maze through the windows.
Everyone readies themselves as if anticipating an attack, every element pooling in the hands of the various Fae at the table. The only one who doesn’t bother preparing to defend herself is the queen at the head of the table—Gwyneira of the Winter Court. I recognize her from my studies.
She looks bored as her eyes flit from me to Vlad. “We’re in the middle of something, Vladimir.” Her voice is like ice and sharp enough to cut through the air. She’s the most powerful queen in Faerie and the one I need to impress the most. She’s also the swing vote in this meeting, so I need to pull her to my side—fast.
Upon seeing her lack of concern, the rest of the Fae relax.
Vlad steps aside, making way for me to enter. My eyes catch on the male seated at the other head of the table. Even sitting, he’s tall and his frame is the lean kind of muscle that swimmers have in the mortal realm. He has almost as many freckles as I do and his hair is an auburn that shifts between red and brown depending on how close the magical light is.
Puck.
The male who killed my mother.
His emerald green eyes scan my body, lingering a little too long on my breasts before returning curiously to my face. His head cants to the side and a small smirk plays on his lips. If it was any other situation, I would have said he was checking me out. In any other situation, I would have noted that he’s my type and might have entertained the way my skin heats under his gaze.
Not today.
I step up to the table, standing in line with him.
“My name is Lysandra. I am the daughter of Queen Titania, and I’m here to claim my throne.”
The room is deathly silent for a heartbeat before it breaks into chaos.
“Vladimir, what’s the meaning of this?” The King of the Day Court bellows.
“She can’t be her daughter, can she?” Devorah, the Princess of Summer Court, asks.
Questions are volleyed around but I remain still, watching the pandemonium and waiting for my opportunity to speak. I find the only Fae I’ve met in real life—Edina, the Princess of the Winter Court. She returns to the mortal realm once a mortal year to foster relations between her court and the witches. The few times we met, we got along very well; I’d even call us friends. But Vlad warned me she was close with Puck, so I never told her who I was. While everyone else is looking at each other for answers, her eyes are accusingly narrowed on me and Vlad.
“If I may—” Vlad cuts in. At his words, all the voices quiet. I can’t help but be impressed. I knew he had sway here, but commanding a group of powerful and conceited monarchs is impressive. He pulls a document from his suit jacket pocket and approaches the table. “This is a DNA test from the mortal realm proving Lysandra is the result of a union between Titania and a witch with earth magic.”
“That could have been forged,” Zahir, King of the Night Court, interjects. He seems like even more of a dick than Vlad described.
“I also possess a memory of the birth,” Vlad says with a shudder.
A pixie with blue hair takes the paper from Vlad and delivers it to Queen Gwyneira. She appraises the document before passing it around.
“We’ll need to see the memory.” She stands. The other monarchs follow suit. “Lysandra, stay here while we corroborate your parentage.”
Vlad told me this could happen, that they would want to question him alone in case I coerced him. “Of course,” I reply, bowing slightly. Vlad sketches a bow as the five of them exit the dining room. He looks back once, winking before the doors close behind him.
I fight the urge to fidget as I turn back to the table. The second generation, as they call themselves, are the princes and princesses of each court. Most of them—save two—are next in line for their respective thrones.
“So.” Edina breaks the silence. Her tone is light, but her eyes are like daggers. “Left a few things out, didn’t ya?”
“You know her?” Puck demands, tearing his gaze away from me for the first time since I entered the room.
“We met in the mortal realm. She was living with Katie.”
“She trained with her?” Larisa whispers, looking between me and Puck with unmasked concern. The golden butterfly tattoo on her temple looks like it’s about to take flight as her jaw tightens. She was one of the ones Vlad said I should keep an eye on. She could be a friend or foe, and he couldn’t discern which.
“Yes,” I say.
“Why would she keep your secret?” The husky female voice belongs to Hades, Princess of the Night Court. Her bright red lipstick is a sharp contrast to her warm beige skin and jet-black hair. Dark eyes narrow as she assesses me, but her gaze is more curious than hostile. She turns to Edina. “Isn’t she your best friend?”
“She didn’t know until recently. I want to project power but I also don’t want to throw Katie—who became a very dear friend—under the bus.
“It doesn’t matter,” Larisa snipes. “It’s not like they can give her the throne. She grew up in the mortal realm; she knows nothing of Faerie.”
“Are you saying that I shouldn’t inherit my throne either?” Edina asks with sarcastic sweetness.
“Your words, not mine.”
Careful, Eldoris warns, but neither female listens. Edinas eyes glow electric blue and the temperature drops several degrees. Larisa responds, her magic making her skin shimmer with gold and silver. For a second, everyone is transfixed, waiting for a fight. Larisa, enough, Eldoris barks in a voice that commands respect. She huffs, and her light magic absorbs back into her skin. Edinas magic lingers a moment longer before she drops it.
Radley, Prince of the Autumn Court, whines dramatically. “Come on, Eldoris. You don’t break up a catfight.
Eldoris ignores him and turns his ocean-blue eyes to me. “I’m guessing it wasn’t just Katie who trained you. It was Vlad too.” It doesnt surprise me that hes the first to realize the threat I pose. As the general of the Seelie Army, his skill with strategy is unparalleled.
Thats right.
“Which means she knows as much, if not more, about Faerie than all of us,” Izar, Prince of the Night Court, murmurs, dragging a hand through his midnight-black hair. “Why would Vlad train her? He had no love for Titania.”
“Why does Vlad do anything?” Edina drawls. “Favors. And I bet he collected a fuck ton over the years for keeping her child a secret and then training her to be queen.”
I let them have their conjectures, subtly assessing each one and seeking out who might be a potential ally. Throughout the entire exchange, Puck is silent, slinking back into his chair in a way that’s relaxed but deadly. His hand is propping up his chin; his legs are spread wide, taking up the entire space despite his thin frame.
When he catches me watching him, I give him my sweetest smile. It’s met with a scowl, none of the heat or interest from earlier present.
“You should have known,” Larisa is screaming at Edina, her voice bordering on shrill. “You’re friends with all the offending parties. You should have known this was coming and prepared us—
Edina throws a muffling shield around Larisa’s head, effectively silencing her. I can’t hide the smirk that crosses my lips as Larisa silently fumes, and when Edina notices, some of the earlier frostiness fades.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” I interject, and all heads swivel to me. “I know you’re shocked, and you all must have opinions of my mother.” Puck scoffs, and most of the others hum in agreement. “But I never knew Titania,” my voice softens, and it’s not entirely calculated. “My father, the man who raised me, was kind and compassionate, and I’d like to think that he passed those traits to me. I’m only asking that you give me a chance, and not judge me based on her sins.”
They glance at each other but don’t have the chance to respond as the doors are once again thrown open and the monarchs come streaming in. They all assume their seats; Vlad is noticeably absent.
“We sent Vladimir back to the mortal realm,” Queen Gwyneira answers my unasked question. “This matter is between royalty only.”
Larisa gasps. “So, it’s true?”
“Yes. She is the legitimate child of Queen Titania.”
“What does that mean?” Edina asks her mother.
“It means she is the rightful heir to the Spring Court throne.”