Bittersweet (31 page)

 

 

When I opened my eyes again, we were in my chambers. Zanthiel sat next to me on the edge of my bed. Snow dusted the floor around us. Flames spiraled from floor to ceiling in the center of the room.

“How long have I been out?”

“Long enough. Here.” He handed me a bowl of porridge dotted with winter berries.

I gobbled it quickly, not realizing how hungry I was. “How's your mother?”

His mouth quirked. “Awake. And angry. But well, otherwise.”

I winced. “I'm sorry, I had to do it. She would have killed everyone, trying to find where you'd gone.”

He rose and handed me some water. “At least you're safe.”

I nearly laughed. “You mother will never let me live. I've drugged her and lied to her. She hated me to begin with, you think this is going to win me any points?”

“She believes you are her future daughter and heir to the throne of Faery. She wants you on her side so she can control you. She's not going to try to have you killed.”

I doubted that. She may have secret plans for me, but once I'd popped out a child or two, that would be it. She'd have everything she needed to twist the future of Faery in her favor. And I would be as dispensable then as I'd been all along. It didn't matter what she did or didn't have planned for me. I had no intention of sticking around long enough to figure it out. I handed him the empty bowl.

“I have convinced her that we will return, once we've retrieved King Oberon's crown and received King Etienne's pardon. She knows that only then can you be truly safe, and she needs you to be safe.”

I nodded and climbed out of the bed. There were so many things that could go so wrong between now and then.

“I need to know, Lorelei. When Mab trapped you in the shadow of dark whispers, what did you tell her?”

I frowned. Why did he want to know that? It was days ago. “Nothing. I told her nothing.” I shrugged. Even as I said it, I felt my face flush. He already knew the truth. “It was just a lot of stuff everyone keeps hidden inside. Fear, loathing, lust. Stuff like that.”

He stared into my eyes, challenging, his lips on the verge of a smile. “Lust?”

I nodded. Then rolled my eyes.

“But not for Adrius? At least, not solely for him.” He knew the answer even before he asked the question.

I looked away, but his hand on my chin brought my gaze back to his.

“None of that matters, Zanthiel. It was all an illusion… my body reacting to a weird dark energy that meant nothing at all.”

I tried to shrug it off, but the look in his eyes said my attempts weren't working.

“Shouldn't we be focused on our next move, now that we've got the key?”

He kept his gaze on mine until I started to squirm under the intensity of it. “I wish you'd stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” His gaze dropped to my mouth.

“You know like what. Like you want to—“

The words were cut off as his lips touched mine. Cold swept into me, sliding into every corner of my body. A moment later it was over.

Zanthiel moved away, distancing himself from me on the bed.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I had no words.

We remained there, eyes locked, as a weighty silence filled the space between us.

I climbed out of the bed and shivered. “You shouldn't do that.”

Finally his voice broke through the unbearable quiet. “You saved my life, and as you pointed out, I didn't thank you. Consider that a token of my gratitude. I won't again, unless you ask me to.”

I nodded mutely and touched my finger to my lips. They still held the lingering touch of cold.

I fumbled with the laces of my gown, tightening them and arranging my skirts. “We have to move if we're going to reach my father in time to make any difference at all. Once we have his crown, we can head to the Mythlandria for the pardoning ceremony and announce our—” I could barely think the words.

“Engagement,” he finished my sentence, eying me skeptically. Facing me, he handed me my sword. “The only way we are going to convince the monarchs of the Nevermore that our union is strong, is for them to believe it is what we both truly want.”

“I know. I'm trying.”

He strode over to me and took my hand. I didn't pull back. “It won't be enough to try, Lorelei. You must make them believe it. You must make me believe it. Only then will you be safe.” His eyes narrowed and he dipped his head forward. “Can you do this?”

“Yes.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Because if there is any part of you that doubts you can persuade them that we are in love, it is best if we know now and devise another plan.”

There were no other plans. That was why we were where we were. “I can do this,” I repeated, this time more convincingly.

“Good. I almost believed you that time,” he said. Then he lifted my hand to his lips and placed a brief cool kiss on my knuckles. “The hour grows late. We should go.”

****

Queen Mab met us as we were mounting our horses in the stables. She was alone, and seeing her not surrounded by the dozen or so guards she usually traveled with put me on edge.

“I do not understand why you must accompany the girl to see her father.”

“I know that you don't, Mother.” Zanthiel barely glanced at her as he continued to ready the horses.

Mab frowned, not accustomed to being ignored. “I trust you will keep your vow to me, son.”

She didn't address me, which was probably for the best, considering.

“I extend all the same courtesies you extend to me, Mother.” He helped me onto my white steed. Then he swung his leg over his mount, and turned the horse to face his mother.

“I do not like us parting this way, with you so angry with me.” She wrung her hands together, looking the part of a concerned parent. Something we both knew she wasn't.

I stayed silent, not wanting to make things worse. Mab wanted us to come back, and I couldn't figure out why. What did she hope to gain with Zanthiel and me in power? If any of this did come to pass, and we were the rulers of Faery, she had to know we wouldn't let her control us. Or use us for her own gain. My horse trotted to the side, growing restless.

Mab gazed up at her son. “Everything I have done I did to keep you safe. You must know this.”

“I do, but it does not change anything. We will return, but Lorelei is with me. You cannot threaten her life again. If you do, you will lose me permanently, and in so doing lose any power you believe our union will grant you.”

Mab stepped back, and her eyes grazed me briefly. “What is it about her? Why this girl?”

“She is special.”

“No.
You
are special. She is a fool and she is going to get you killed if you continue to stay by her side. Stop being her puppet. Return to your kingdom, Zanthiel. Your place is here with your people.”

His volume rose and there was a hard edge to his voice. “My place, Mother, is with her. By her side for as long as she needs me. Now step aside, we need to pass. Unless you prefer we ride over you.”

The walls enclosing the stable trembled. Small rocks and gravel tumbled to the ground, kicking up frost as they landed. I pulled the feathered hood of my cloak up over my head and tucked in my hair. Beneath my cloak a dragon scale vest was layered over my gown. Zanthiel thought it best not to tax my healing powers while we traveled. The trod to the Shadow Court was a short ride, but he wanted to ensure I arrived in one piece and unharmed. Had the daggers shooting from his mother's glare been real, I might have already been dead, dragon scale or not. But Mab finally stepped to the side to allow us to pass.

 

 

Traveling in the Winter realm was no less dangerous than traveling elsewhere in the Nevermore. Creatures ready and willing to rip us to shreds were at every turn, and rogue hunters bent on collecting the bounty on my head imposed by King Etienne tracked our every move. Zanthiel, of course, easily warded off most of our opponents, but the attacks were relentless the closer we got to the Shadow Court.

I sliced at a beast as it leapt at me, jaws wide and ready to bite. It fell to the ground with a howl.

“In here.” He pointed to a deep cavern. “There is a trod that will greatly diminish our travels.”

Too late for that.

“It should deliver us to the doorway of your father's realm.” His horse reared as he slowed it to change directions.

A shard of ice flew past my ear and the searing cold ripped at my head. I screamed and fell to the ground at the mouth of the cavern.

Zanthiel dismounted, moved to my side, and dragged me to my feet. “Lorelei. Are you all right? Can you stand? We're almost there.”

Moist streams of my own blood dripped down my cheek. The sticky iron scent filled my nostrils, making me woozy. In a dizzy haze I pitched forward, but he caught me and steadied me on my feet. The surge of awakening power had made the effect less intense, but clearly it wasn't gone completely.

Still, I was conscious and could keep moving, and that was something new for me. I liked it, not being a slave to my weaknesses. It was like taking command of my body, in a way I'd never been able to before. Zanthiel narrowed his grim silver gaze, and I gave a final nod of reassurance before striding past him into the cavern. By the time we'd managed to summon light, the gash on my forehead had healed and I was the closest I'd ever come to finding my real father.

The path led us to a center hub, with paths leading from it like spokes of a wheel.

“Now where do we go?” I whispered, my breath lingering like a cloud in the air. Each route looked identical to next.

“Nowhere.” He reached into his pack and withdrew a dark hooded cloak. “Put this on,” he instructed, then tossed it to me. I frowned, but did what he said. He tugged the hood up over my head, taking the time to tuck my hair inside.

“Are you going to tell me what's with the disguise?”

“Without one, we will not be permitted to enter. The serpent's eye will get us into the castle, but you will need to pretend to be a servant in order to bypass the king's guards. The Shadow Court is not governed as the others are. There is no fair play and no second chances. You will have one chance at reaching your father. I will stand watch, but the rest will be up to you.”

Are things
ever
easy in this realm?

A disembodied voice echoed from the shadows of the cave. “You may go no further, unless you state your business immediately.”

Zanthiel spoke up, uttering words I didn't understand. Then he held up the glittering ruby snake's eye.

The hub began to spin wildly out of control. I grabbed on to his arm to keep from falling over. When the spinning finally stopped and the churning in my stomach stopped, I looked around.

We weren't in the dusty cavern anymore. We were somewhere far more regal, surrounded by smoke and mirrors, frosted glass and webs of shadows. And there, in the midst of it all, was my father.

Daylight dissolved into darkness... the darkness of eternal night. The Shadow Court was the deadliest of the Faery realms. Shadow fey seldom killed their prey. What they did was far worse. Sometimes they drained their life essence, sucking it into their own to give them heightened pleasures. Other times they played with them mercilessly. They toyed with their lives, their hearts and minds, until they were empty and broken. Incapable of repair. Enslaved and shattered, they were left to perish in a psychiatric ward in the mortal world, or taken to live a never-ending nightmare of perverse servitude. Although the Shadow King had the power to do all of that and more, I was certain that would not be our fate. This man had given me life. He was my father. And yet, that did nothing to dislodge the pit of fear churning in my stomach.

He sat at the head of a long stone table, a plumed pen in hand, writing on a parchment scroll. He was so focused, he didn't see me enter. A line of guards flanked him on both sides, clad in full body armor and armed with weapons I'd never seen before. To get to him, I'd have to get past them. Somehow I didn't think shouting, “Hi Dad” was going to cut it. I'd seen how parents treated their children in this world. They were far too quick to kill first and ask questions never.

My breath caught for a moment and I paused to recover my bearings. It was surreal, seeing the man I'd dreamed of seeing again for so many years. Now here he was, a few feet from where I stood. Living. Breathing. He looked exactly the same as I remembered. Tall. Striking. Strong nose and jaw and sharp cheekbones. With dark hair and eyes like mine. I sucked in a nervous breath.

Remembering why I'd come and that I was supposed to be a servant, I entered and strode toward a cart laden with food. None of them paid any attention to me, which was good. A massive boar turned slowly on a spit over glowing embers. The table held an assortment of breads and at least six different kinds of stout poured freely from metal casks. The fey spent more time eating than doing anything else.

I picked up a quartz tray and set a jug of faerie mead and an empty silver stein next on it. My hands shook as I glanced over at my father a few feet away, and the fortress of deadly Shadow fey protecting him. The more I considered it, the crazier Zanthiel's plan was. How was this supposed to go down exactly? I'd serve him a beverage and then what… say
by the way, I'm your daughter?

Sigh
.

I lifted the tray, turned and immediately crashed into the stone table. Everything spilled to the ground, the jug shattering into pieces and beer ran off the table into a puddle on the floor. The guards turned in unison, a solid wall of black blades pointed in my direction.

Crap.

For the first time since I'd entered his chambers, my father, King Oberon, looked up from his writing. “Approach me,” he said, motioning with his fingers.

I stepped toward him, not sure what else to do.

He studied me closely, as he rose. Then, in a flash, he grabbed my free arm.

I dropped the tray, panicked.

He shoved me against the wall, pressing his forearm to my throat. His dark eyes narrowed. "You are not a servant in my court. Who are you? Why are you here?” he demanded.

He shifted his weight forward, and I choked as my airways constricted. I had no way of escaping. Well, there was one way, but seeing my father's eyes so close, after years of trying to recall how they looked, made it a little hard to concentrate on using magic to break free.

“Who sent you? Was it Mab? Etienne? Never mind,” he railed. “Instead, you may tell me—how would you like me to end your life? Fire? Ice? A cloud of toxic poison, perhaps?”

I tried to shake my head, but I was frozen in place. Shock. Between that and not being able to breathe, I was immobile.

“I could just wring your wretched little neck, whelp, then send your lifeless remains back to whoever sent you.”

“No. Wait,” I whispered, but the words barely reached his ears. This was my father. A man who apparently wasn't afraid to kill someone with his bare hands.

He pulled back just far enough to tug the hood from my head. My hair spilled out from the careless bun I'd tied it in. Oberon froze, his eyes wide with horror. His arm lowered as if in slow motion and he staggered back a step. And then another.

"Ilyandra? Is that really you?" A deep frown furrowed his brows and he squinted, not fully believing his eyes.

I nodded, though it was still difficult to move. "It's Lorelei, actually," I said in a strained voice. "But yes, it's really me. Your daughter."

The room dissolved in black smoke. I coughed as the cold seeped into my lungs. Feeling around blindly in the haze, I eventually stopped when music filled the void.

Mist blew in through an open window and sprayed over my face. The smoke dissipated and I looked around as my mind and limbs came back to life. I felt shaky and nauseous… and completely freaked out. I had no idea where I was, but it wasn't where I'd been. I was alone in the middle of a vast empty room, nothing but floor-to-ceiling smoked glass windows lining every wall.

I frowned in bewilderment. I'd nearly been choked to death. By my father. The fact that he didn't realize who I was didn't console me. I had no idea how long I'd been wherever this was, but Zanthiel would be looking for me by now. And where had Oberon disappeared to?

A piano melody played again, the music wafting from a closed door. I made my way to where it stood across from me. I wandered down a long corridor, my warped and distorted reflection haunting me at every glance.

Everything in my father's castle looked like it had been etched from smoked glass. A house of mirrors. Unlike the Winter Court, there were no traces of decay or spilled blood or dead flora. It was pristine. Every inch of the room I'd been in and the hall I traveled were immaculately spotless. I followed the melody to the end of the hall.

At the end was a room filled with light. I entered to discover it wasn't a hall, but a theater. Surrounding the stage flanked by black velvet curtains were rows and rows of stadium seating.

A performance hall? In the Shadow Court? Music had been in my mother's blood, and in mine. It never occurred to me my father might also have been drawn to it.

Abandoned instruments of every variety lay on carved wooden chairs in the orchestra pit. That's when I noticed my father, sitting at a grand piano made entirely of smoked glass.

I approached him slowly, as his fingers idly tapped various keys and chords.

“Do you play?” I asked him.

“Do we ever stop?” he said, not looking up from the keys. “Perhaps you care to tell me why the child I forbade to ever enter this world has not once but twice gone against my wishes.”

My spine straightened. “I had no way of knowing those were your wishes.”

“Didn't you? I must have a word with the dark faerie.” He hit a few more chords, and the music floated high up over us into the rafters. The onyx chandeliers vibrated in harmony with the notes and then responded with a counter melody of their own.

“Tell me then,” he said slowly. “Why have you come?”

I cleared my throat. This wasn't exactly the reunion I'd imagined. In every fantasy scenario I'd ever had about my father, not one started with him trying to strangle me, followed by a lecture on breaking his unknown rule forbidding me to ever return to Faery.

“I came for your help,” I said, walking steadily down the aisle. Massive gargoyles carved from dark granite perched at the end of every isle. It was only after I noticed their beady eyes following me did I realize they were alive. The seats were covered in black velvet and tufted with large diamonds that twinkled in the dim candlelight. I stopped when I reached the piano.

Oberon struck a high note and held it. Instead of growing softer, the note grew louder and louder until I clapped my hands over my ears as a glass mirror shattered and fell to the ground. Then he released it.

“For help… help,” he repeated the word, rolling it around his mind as he said it. “Could it be that you are telling me lies?”

I blinked. “Pardon?”

He rose abruptly and with the sweep of his hand, a full orchestra piped to life. Haunting dark music was played by phantom musicians with invisible instruments.

Chills rippled up and down my arms, and I shivered at the beauty and terror of it.

“Come,” he said, motioning for me to follow.

I walked behind him, afraid of getting too close or being too far behind as he led us out of the hall and into an adjoining room. It was small and round. The fey preferred curves to angles, it seemed. But for all of the magic and mystery of the great music hall, this room held only the memory of death. It was void of life and air. Dark and dank, I could feel the essence of lost souls wailing for their bodies.

It was then that my father turned to face me. “I believe, daughter of mine, that your visit to my kingdom has nothing to do with you requiring my aid.”

A door swung open and two Shadow faeries with charred tattered wings and red eyes shoved Zanthiel into the room and closed the door. My father regarded me with cold, impassive eyes. “I believe you are trying to usurp my throne. What you are requiring, in fact, is my crown.”