To Wear a Fae Crown (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 2) Page 25

  Aspen emits a growl, shoulders trembling. “What’s to stop me from torturing you to an inch of your life until you tell me where they are?”

  “Do you think I’d give you the chance?” Another ball of flame, orange this time, ignites over his palm. “I can also send a message. With a snap of my fingers, this flame will leave my palm and transport to my guards. Another sign that they may proceed with the execution.”

  I burn him with a glare. “What do you want?”

  “I only want to talk,” he says, a false smile plastered over his lipless mouth. He holds out his hands in a sign of surrender, the orange flame shrinking back into his palm until it’s nothing.

  “What does he want?” My eyes flash to the councilman.

  “He’s here to force your hand should you fail to comply, but I promise we will give you every opportunity to act on your own.”

  “Then let’s talk.”

  “Tell your mate to either leave or stand down.”

  Aspen and I exchange a glance. His muscles ripple with agitation, but he gives me a subtle nod.

  I return my attention to Ustrin in time to see him close his eyes with a violent tremble. He rolls his neck, then faces Nyxia. “Stop that already.”

  Nyxia gives him a devious grin, shadows thickening around her. “Why? Afraid of the dark?”

  Ustrin continues to tremble as he turns his palm to the ceiling. This time, a blood-red flame emerges. With a snap of his fingers, it disappears.

  Nyxia falters, eyes widening. “What was that?”

  “That one went to your palace. If it doesn’t find you there shortly after it arrives, it will set your home ablaze, starting with wherever your dear brother can be found. I’d hurry if I were you.”

  Her shadows retreat, eyes locking on mine.

  “Go,” I whisper.

  With a nod, she transforms into her shadow form and streams from the chamber.

  King Ustrin lets out a long breath, the tremors gone, and straightens his cravat and jacket. “What about you, King Aspen? Care to leave or stay?”

  “I’m staying,” he says through his teeth, body pressing close to my side.

  “Will you let his people free once we’re done talking?” I ask.

  “So long as I am unharmed. If I were you, I’d make no move against me.” He gestures to his guards. I flinch, but they don’t come for me. Instead, they move further into the chamber to form a ring around the fire fae.

  Ustrin looks from the crowd to me, a sneer on his lips. “I must say, I was quite affronted when word spread throughout the forest tonight that you sought a meeting with my citizens. Did you really think you could steal my people?”

  “They are living in Lunar,” I say. “They are no longer your people.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been given new rights by the Council of Eleven Courts. It is my duty to bring the fire fae back to the Fire Court. There they will be tamed and taught to free themselves from their savage ways.”

  Growls rumble through the chamber. A fennec snaps at one of the guards, earning a swift kick. My heart twists as the tiny fox yelps, then falls on its side.

  I round on the king. “You’re one to talk about savage ways.”

  He ignores my scorn as well as the increasing growls and threats and flames coming from the fire fae. “They’re armed with iron,” he says. The crowd falls into stunned silence. “Each guard carries stone grenades filled with iron shards. Step out of line and I will order their detonation.”

  Iron grenades. The very thought churns my stomach. I saw what kind of damage explosives can do to the fae, and those didn’t contain iron. But wait. The explosion would...

  “Won’t that hurt you too?” I ask. “And your guards?”

  “I will be safe from its radius,” King Ustrin says, keeping his voice low.

  I don’t lower mine to meet his, allowing it to carry. “But you’ll sacrifice your guards.”

  He clenches his jaw. “They understand the risks. They know what they are fighting for.”

  I cross my arms and take a bold step forward. “So do we.”

  He lets out a burst of laughter. “Who’s this we? Do you honestly think you’ve won their allegiance?”

  I purse my lips to keep from saying something foolish. The truth is, he’s probably right. The meeting didn’t go anywhere near how I wanted it to go.

  King Ustrin’s posture relaxes. “Speaking of, that’s why I came here to speak with you. It’s time for you to remove yourself from the isle like you were supposed to. Your presence is a threat to the treaty—”

  “You mean a threat to your rule.”

  His eyes flash dangerously. “—And it prevents the Council of Eleven Courts from engaging the rebels in combat. I can see your bargain with me was far cleverer than I gave you credit for. I should make you pay for your deception. Instead, I offer you a private escort off the isle.”

  I raise a brow. “A private escort? With Mr. Duveau? Please. I’ll take the alternative.”

  He bares his teeth. “The alternative is he uses the power of your true name to force you to come. What about this don’t you understand?”

  “What I don’t understand is why you’re even here. Why go through all this trouble bringing Mr. Duveau to try and get me off the isle yet again? What game are you playing?”

  “I’m trying to spare your life.”

  “Why?”

  “I won’t kill you.” He says it slowly through his teeth, expression twisted as if the statement pains him.

  That’s when I realize the truth.

  “You can’t kill me. You made a bargain.”

  He says nothing, confirming my suspicion.

  “That’s why you’ve been pushing for my family’s exile when you really couldn’t care less if we live or die. What was the bargain?”

  He lifts his chin. “It was a promise. Before my fool cousin Caleos left for his exile, he made me vow that if it ever came to pass that his progeny found themselves on the isle, I would see that they were treated fairly and given every chance to live well. To avoid stirring suspicion regarding my involvement with his demise, I made the promise. He left it loose enough for me to navigate, but not loose enough to be anything but a thorn in my side since I learned of your existence. He must have known even then what awaited him on the other side of exile. He knew his lover and child had survived.”

  “Treated fairly?” Aspen growls. “Live well? I don’t see how you’ve fulfilled either of those terms.”

  “I’ve fulfilled it enough that I’m still alive, aren’t I? Not that every deviation hasn’t caused me enough pain to wish for death a time or two. Do you have any idea the suffering Maven Fairfield’s death caused me?” He shoots Mr. Duveau a look of contempt.

  The councilman, surprisingly, manages not to wither beneath his scorn.

  I puzzle over his words, a ripple of shock moving up my spine. Is that what the punishment is for breaking a fae promise? Excruciating pain resulting in eventual death? Before I was willing to accept magic, I thought fae vows and their refusal to lie came from cultural conditioning. Now...I fully believe his punishment is tangible.

  Ustrin returns his attention to me. “Let me fulfill my vow and get you off the isle so I can be rid of you once and for all. Not that I’ll be truly free until your sister manages to show her face.” He says the last part with no small amount of venom.

  My heart leaps into my throat at the mention of Amelie. “You don’t know where she is?”

  His fingers clench into fists. “King Cobalt insists he doesn’t know—”

  At the words King Cobalt, Aspen’s growl rumbles in his chest.

  “—But he’s hiding her from me. I’ll deal with him next. He may have the council convinced, but I see through him. Even as an ally, he has much to learn about earning his place.”

  I take in every word, filing them away in the back of my mind. I’m not sure what it means, but it must be significant that he thinks Cobalt is hiding Ame
lie from him. While I doubt it suggests noble intentions on Cobalt’s behalf, it could mean Amelie’s refusal to come to Mother’s trial wasn’t her choice after all. Not that it changes anything. Her actions still led to Mother’s death. My simmer of anger rises to a boil. I let it grow, let it burn hotter.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Ustrin says, voice rising an octave. “Otherwise I can hurry your resolve. Mr. Duveau can force you immobile while your ears flood with the haunting melody of the Autumn refugees’ dying screams.” He turns his gaze to Aspen. “Would you like an invitation to the symphony as well?”

  I freeze. His words suggest the refugees are close enough that I’d be able to hear them scream from here. That means we can likely find them without Ustrin’s guidance.

  “No,” I say. Fear floods my body for what I’m about to say, but I call upon my fire to burn it. “We’ll get this over with, but I’m not leaving the isle unless you plan on shipping my corpse. We face each other in accordance with the Old Ways. We let the All of All choose their alpha. And we do it now.”

  Aspen tenses beside me. “Evie, don’t—”

  Aspen, I say his name in my head, seeking that connection through our Bond. Please trust me. Make no move against what I’m about to do.

  His eyes search mine, wide with terror. I hear his voice in my mind. I trust you.

  King Ustrin stares at me for endless moments until a sudden burst of laughter erupts from his lips. “Stupid, stupid girl. You dare challenge me? You dare refuse my offer for mercy? Fine.” He shakes his head with bitter amusement. “I gave you your chance. I fulfilled my vow. If you won’t come willingly, then you will come by force. And you won’t enjoy it.”

  King Ustrin steps to the side, allowing Mr. Duveau to take his place and face me. Only now does his stoic expression shift into a chilling grin. “Evelyn Fairfield.” The name reverberates through my mind, my blood, my bones. “Follow me. Use your mate’s true name and order him to remain here until daybreak.”

  He turns on his heel and takes a few steps away. I stay rooted on the spot, trembling as the command writhes inside me. Ustrin lets out a hiss, making the councilman whirl back around. His face pales, a look of shock in his eyes. He regathers his composure and speaks through gritted teeth. “Evelyn Fairfield.”

  I hear the name, feel its power, but I’m focusing on something else. Every part of me is fueling my intent—my mind, my heart, my very soul. It grows and grows until it becomes so solid in my mind’s eye, I feel like I could touch it.

  Mr. Duveau takes a step closer. “Follow me. Now.”

  I pour my intent into every word. “You have my name wrong.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My true name isn’t Evelyn Fairfield.”

  “That’s a lie. Your mother gave you the name Evelyn Fairfield at birth. It is your true name, and it’s a name I’ve memorized since the day you were born.”

  “I may have been born with that name, but my name has since changed. It is now Evelyn, Unseelie Queen of Fire.”

  His face goes blank, but only for a moment. His lips pull into a devious smirk. “Is this your true name you’ve given me?”

  I smile sweetly. “Yes.”

  Mr. Duveau squares his shoulders. “Evelyn, Unseelie Queen of Fire—”

  “No!” King Ustrin’s shout roars through the chamber, but it’s too late. Mr. Duveau steps back, hand to his forehead as if to stifle a terrible pain.

  A roil of nausea washes through me, followed by the feeling of something ripping—something inside me. With it comes a searing agony, and I call my fire to combat it. In a flash, it’s gone. Like it was never there to begin with.

  I open my eyes to find Mr. Duveau panting, face pale and covered with a sheen of sweat.

  King Ustrin lunges toward him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve broken the treaty!”

  The councilman steps back, unsteady on his feet as he shakes his head. “The Legacy Bond should have—”

  “The Legacy Bond was destroyed the moment you named her queen,” King Ustrin says through his teeth. “The treaty is broken if King Caleos’ descendants claim rule. And you, with the breath of the Bond, spoke that very thing into being.”

  Aspen takes my hand, and we step back from the pair. There’s nowhere to go. Behind us are the fire fae and King Ustrin’s guards. Ustrin and Mr. Duveau block the exit.

  Ustrin’s chest heaves as he pins the councilman with a vicious scowl. “Which means our arrangement is over.” He lunges for Mr. Duveau, his fingers stretching into claws as he swipes at the man.

  Mr. Duveau reaches beneath his jacket and pulls out his revolver. The movement makes him wince, and he brings his free hand to a place below his ribs. That must be where Aspen wounded him. The arm that holds the gun, however, is steady. Firm. Ready to shoot.

  Ustrin recoils at the sight. The two are frozen, eyes locked. Slowly, Mr. Duveau takes a step back. Then another. Ustrin hisses, body shaking as if fighting his instincts to attack the man. When the councilman moves far enough into the tunnel, his form is swallowed entirely by shadows. A moment later, I hear his pounding footsteps fleeing from the cave.

  King Ustrin points at two of his guards, nodding his head in the direction of Mr. Duveau’s hasty exit. The guards obey, streaming past us.

  Aspen and I take another step back.

  Ustrin faces me head on, fingers curling and uncurling as flames dance between them. “You get your way. We will fight for the Fire Court throne after all.”

  36

  Ustrin’s chest heaves with rage as he storms over to me, fire climbing from his fingers to his shoulders. The blood leaves my face. This is what I asked for, but it doesn’t mean I’m ready. Still, I don the bravest face I can, throwing back my shoulders as I take a step closer to him. Aspen’s fingers cling to mine, and I can feel his reluctance to let me go. To let me fight. To stand down. But he does.

  I’m right here, he whispers in my mind.

  King Ustrin burns me with narrowed eyes as he removes his jacket and cravat, throwing each to the ground with force. “You must make the first move,” he hisses. “Our bargain keeps me and the council from engaging the fae rebel royals in violence. Even according to the Old Ways, a bid for alpha status is considered an attack. Since you have sided with them, I cannot engage you.”

  My pulse races, and my mouth goes dry. “Very well.”

  His fire grows, dancing over the scales of his face and scalp, creating a blinding shimmering radiance around him. “Come get me.”

  I make no move as I seek my fire, allowing it to rise from my core and burn down my arms, my hands, my legs. Doubt creeps in, so heavy it threatens to dampen my fire. I hardly know what I’m doing. I’m not ready for this. I can’t do this.

  What exactly is this anyway? I know we must stand before the All of All. We must prove which of us is the alpha. Do I really have what it takes to do that? I’m not Queen Nyxia, the most powerful lunar alpha in generations. I’m not even close in power to the weakest fae royal I’ve met.

  My mind spins with anxiety. What in the name of iron convinced me I should do this? Shouldn’t I have taken death? Exile?

  My fire retreats, pulling back from my arms and returning to my core where it remains a white-hot ball of flame.

  King Ustrin lets out a hiss of laughter. “You can’t do it, can you? You’re weak. Nothing more than a pitiful human woman. A girl. A child. You know nothing about rage or warfare. You know nothing about ruling a kingdom or wearing a crown.”

  A crown. For some reason, the word stills me, my golden crown of flames appearing in my mind’s eye. The All of All gave that to me when they could have given anything. They could have given a maple leaf or a robin’s feather. Instead, they gave me a crown of fire. That must mean something.

  I focus on the arrogance in King Ustrin’s face, reminding myself of everything he’s responsible for. I remember how it felt to be torn from my mate, to be told we could no longer fulfill the treaty. I thi
nk of the burnt apothecary, imagining it as nothing more than a charred husk with all my mother’s herbs and jars burnt to ash. Portraits gone and books and spells and recipes lost forever. Then all I see is Mother. Mother. Mother.

  Sorrow rips through me, but my rage is hotter. It fills my body in a flash, igniting my skin in a white glow, brighter than King Ustrin’s.

  The look on King Ustrin’s face is priceless. However, the expression is momentary, a flash before he steels it behind a sneer. His glow increases to match mine.

  Heat surrounds me, searing my flesh. A jolt of panic racks my core, but I breathe it away. Aspen’s voice fills my mind. Take it to the Twelfth Court.

  I close my eyes.

  When I open them, violet covers my vision. My surroundings are like what they were before, but there’s no movement, save for the swirling particles of violet light that make up all matter. It’s as if time stands frozen.

  My mind has gone still, and my only sensations are a calm warmth and the sound and feel of the energy humming through my body. This return to the Twelfth Court feels both new and familiar at once. I feel welcome, yet at the same time, I feel like an invader.

  A black tunnel opens beside me, and without hesitation, I enter it. Inside, it’s like I’m floating, even as my feet touch what seems like solid ground. I see nothing, hear nothing. Only my body remains, although it’s nothing more than violet particles. My observation prompts a memory—no, a reminder. I came here for a reason. To find my unseelie form.

  My mind begins to clear, and as it does, the black tunnel reveals shimmering purple far ahead. I run toward it, keeping my goal firmly in my mind so I don’t lose track of my awareness. My destination comes into focus the nearer I get, and I find myself standing before a mirror. At least, it seems like a mirror. It’s an oval of swirling light with a black void in its middle shaped like a human silhouette. My silhouette.

  I squint at it, looking for my features, but they aren’t there. Particles of light. A black void. Endless nothingness. Endless everything. Comfort. Terror.