Misrule, page 30
I scramble to my feet. “Neve.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The Shifter turns slowly. She’s wearing a gown that might have been spun from shadow, layers of gossamer ebony fabric fastened to a high collar, which causes her to blend into the dim surroundings.
“Nimara.”
I should have posted guards. Shouldn’t have let Callow out on her hunt, even though the kestrel was stubbornly adamant. I pull on a dressing gown and cinch it tight. “You’re either very brave or very stupid to come here. I know about Oryn and Aurora. Their secret mirrors.”
End her, Mortania growls from her den. But I want to know why first.
Neve lifts a delicate shoulder. Her skin is pearly and rough. “Ah yes. I suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. Such duplicity is what you always expected of me, isn’t it?”
I blink. “Is that why you did it? Some kind of petty revenge?”
“Petty?” She bares her pointed teeth. “You have undermined and humiliated me in front of this court for years. If I had sought revenge, it would have been well-earned.”
“Humiliated?”
“Do not insult my intelligence by denying it.” She prowls closer. “When the Imps and Demons and Vila hobbled into this court from whatever holes they’d been hiding in, they were showered with revels and gifts. But I hardly received a welcome before I was dispatched on ‘official duties.’ My rooms were given away—in my absence—to a mortal princess. You, mistress of this court, barely participated in the Shifter funeral. And they were your kin, Nimara.”
Something recoils inside me. “I’m not a full Shifter. Not like—”
“Who?” Her eyes glitter. “The Shifter in the black tower?”
I flinch. That corner of my past is not a secret at court, but Neve and I have never spoken of Kal. I didn’t much see the point. She probably would have defended him.
“Do you suppose that I’m not acutely aware of how you compare me to him? That you detest me and all the Shifters because of his betrayal?” Her breath comes in short bursts. “But I feel sorry for you, Nimara. You don’t hate us. You hate yourself.”
The ancient Vila whirls in rage. “You know nothing about me.”
“Yes, and that’s the way you prefer it, isn’t it? You hide yourself behind your Vila magic, going so far as to adopt the name of the first Vila. But how did you take this realm? How did you escape the High Court, or bring down a member of Oryn’s Hunt? With your Shifter magic. You ignore an entire part of yourself until it’s convenient to do otherwise. Worse—you’re ashamed of it. But why are you ashamed?”
“Because I don’t want to be like you!” The answer is out of my mouth before I can pull it back. It rings around us. Neve stares at me, every muscle tensed. And now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “Kal was horrible. He tried to turn me into someone else. He took everything from me, and I never guessed who he really was until it was too late. You’ve given me no reason to believe you’d be any different than he was.”
A long moment passes. An ember in the hearth pops.
“And have I given any reason for you to believe I would be the same?”
The question stings. But I shove the guilt away. “You betrayed me.”
“You gave me good reason to do so.”
“So you colluded with Aurora and sent me to the High Court in the hopes that I would lose my power? That was my punishment?”
She waves me off. “I would have punished you long ago, if that was what I had in mind.”
“Then why?” I press. “You must have known what Aurora wanted.”
Neve is quiet for a moment. “When the princess came to me, she seemed to assume that Oryn would be able to peel Mortania from your bones, as if the Vila were a second skin. But he could not have done so—not without killing you. And, as I said, I could have accomplished that myself.” Her dark eyes sparkle in the firelight. “So yes, I did know what she desired. But what she did not understand is that her plan would never have worked as she imagined. Even if Oryn could have done what she hoped, you would never have agreed to give up your power. However, her temporary alliance with the High King did provide the most direct access to him. It was an advantage I could not ignore. And that is why I agreed to help her.”
“I don’t believe you,” I seethe. “You would have told the council.”
“And if I had?” she asks, toying with the edge of one of her long shapeless sleeves. “The council would have been furious at the princess’s treachery. Somehow, I doubt they would have been able to hide their feelings.”
I fidget with the sash of my dressing gown. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to hide anything. And then our connection to Oryn might have been severed. But I’m not letting Neve off the hook that easily. “You let us walk into a room full of armed Fae. We were nearly killed in that palace.”
She frowns. “I was not aware there would be so many.”
I fold my arms. “Perhaps that’s the sort of information we could have discovered if you’d presented the plan to the rest of us.”
Annoyance flashes in her gaze. “As I’ve said, some information must be handled carefully. You needed to focus on the plan to rob Oryn of his staff—not some silly notion of the princess’s. And there was always going to be a fight in the High Court. Or did you assume Oryn would politely pass you the most powerful weapon in Etheria?”
“A fight was why we brought an army with us.”
“An army that would have been a match for the whole of the High Court?” she asks archly, and embarrassment climbs up my neck. We’d taken such a small number. “If anything went wrong, you would have been overwhelmed, though it was clear no one else wanted to recognize that danger. I listened in to a good many of the princess’s talks with Oryn. She made sure the High King was expecting you. She requested a private audience. I assumed Oryn agreed and I judged that it would be a simple matter for you to swoop in, acquire the staff, and make for home. It was better than having you root around the Fae palace with only the boy for assistance.”
I laugh. “Oh, Oryn was absolutely expecting us. His archers tried to shoot us down. And then he bound us with roots, and I couldn’t move, much less—”
“You could Shift,” she says, tilting her head at me. “Did you?”
The question catches me off-guard. No, I hadn’t. Not until we left the palace. And why hadn’t I? I could have summoned claws to rip apart the vines holding us. Or altered my body to merely step out of them. Could have done a hundred things—become the beast that razed Briar.
“You ignore an entire part of yourself until it’s convenient to do otherwise,” she’d accused. But I don’t want to examine that thought now.
“I…” I fumble. “I was exhausted. I barely possessed the strength to get us home.”
Neve sniffs. “Yes, flying here from the High Court in only a day sounds like your magic was extremely fatigued.”
She’s insufferable. Frustrated, I stalk over to a sideboard, pour out a goblet of wine, and drain the contents in one gulp.
“It doesn’t matter what power I used. We didn’t get the staff—which we might have done, if you’d been honest—and now our army is likely captured. I’m sure they’ll thank you for your silence.”
“I will not allow anything to happen to them,” she says. “Several of my Starlings were at the ready. They will do everything in their power to get the others home safely.”
Had that been why we didn’t see Torin and Renard? I hope so.
“And where were those Starlings in the High King’s audience chamber?” I ask. “Did you instruct them to let me rot in a Fae cell? Did you care at all?”
“I only would have left you there for a night or two.” She grins, those predator’s teeth gleaming in the gloom. But I scowl at her, and she sobers. “Of course I care. What bothers me most is that you cannot seem to comprehend that. Worse, that your low opinion of me is contagious.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” She throws up her hands. “I am practically a ghost in these halls. Hardly anyone outside the council speaks to me, or even looks at me. Why do you think the Starlings never accompany me to court?”
“They have business—”
“Because I do not want to subject them to this sort of treatment!”
Something about her tone, about the expression on her face, rattles me to my very core. Her shoulders are slightly hunched, like a wounded animal’s. It’s a posture I recognize from my years in Lavender House, where I was feared and despised because of my magic. And an overwhelming rush of clarity overcomes me. Could Neve feel that way, too? Like an outsider in her own home?
The taste of the wine is sticky-sour. Is this what I burned down Briar to become?
Ignore her, pet. Mortania stirs in her cave. But I cannot.
“Then why have you stayed at all?” I ask quietly.
Dying embers wink behind the grate.
“For the same reason that I have endured every veiled insult, barbed comment, or dismissal of my advice,” she says. “Because however you may view me, I believe in what you have founded. A home for us. Even though I cannot—”
She stops short and stares at the fire. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a flush paint her cheeks.
“Cannot what?”
“Do you think it coincidental that I chose to stay in Torin’s rooms after mine were gifted to the princess?” The question is nearly lost beneath the sound of the wind pressing against the walls. “That I’m so often found in her company?”
“You’re friends. There’s nothing—” But then I comprehend the look she is giving me. Dragon’s teeth, I’m an idiot. “You’re lovers.”
She nods. And I curse my own stupidity. This is why Neve was so worried about our army being overwhelmed in the High Court. Because Torin was with us. She was protecting her.
“But why didn’t you say? There’s no shame in it.”
Neve barks a rueful laugh. “Because we were worried how you would treat Torin if you knew.”
And I am more than an idiot. I’m…cruel.
“Neve, I-I didn’t realize about the two of you or…any of it. Torin warned me about the shadows of my past, and I—” I’m rambling and stop myself. “I’m sorry.”
The seconds drag on.
“Torin has a rather annoying habit of being right, doesn’t she?”
It takes me a moment to register the joke. I laugh, and Neve joins me. And it is the first time we have ever done so together. A weight is lifted from my shoulders, one I’ve been carrying for far longer than I knew.
“But I suspect that I am not the only member of court with a secret relationship.”
The lightness of the moment evaporates. But I do not sense that Neve is condemning me or even that she disapproves. “Is it so obvious that everyone knows?”
“I cannot speak to that,” she says, not unkindly. “The only reason I guessed of your involvement with the princess is because she came to me with her plan. She, too, was concerned about the shadows of your past. And she would not have risked my revealing her betrayal unless she genuinely cared for you.”
My heart thumps against my breastbone. Mortania whirls.
Listen not.
“What shadows did Aurora mean?”
Neve doesn’t answer right away. She stirs the fire, coaxing a flame. “What did the Shifter in the black tower tell you of Mortania?”
It’s an odd question. Mortania herself buzzes like a hornet, urging me to banish the Shifter from my rooms. But curiosity has already sunk its teeth into my brain. “He said they were in love, but they couldn’t be together. And her retaliation against her own court is what started the first war.”
“And do you believe him?”
I’d never had cause to doubt it. “You don’t?”
“I believe that the story he told you was his perception of truth,” Neve replies. “But reality, in my experience, is never so uncomplicated. If they were star-crossed lovers, why didn’t they run away? After all, your own parents were Shifter and Vila. They obviously found it possible to be together without inciting violence.”
Her assessment carries an uncomfortable note of truth. I squirm against it. “What does this matter now?”
“You speak of the traps the Shifter laid for you, and I’m not excusing anything he did. But have you ever considered the snares Mortania set for him?” The fire lengthens the angles of her face. “Her ‘love’ could have merely been a way for her to coerce the Shifter into sparking a war she desired for her own reasons. And then, when her plan soured, she found herself conveniently locked up with the one person who would toil for centuries in order to free her.”
Is that what had happened? Unwelcome memories are dredged up from that night. Kal’s shadows banished forever. His hungry, rictus smile. The popping sound his magic made as it sputtered out for good. And Mortania, spurring me to kill him. At the time, I thought perhaps the years of bitterness had hardened whatever was left of her heart. But had there ever been affection between Kal and Mortania? Or had she poisoned his mind and then discarded him as soon as he was no longer valuable?
Do not heed her, pet. She despises our kind. Pressure squeezes between my temples.
“The princess,” Neve continues, “worried the same fate would befall you. That you were losing yourself without realizing it. And that fear was the reason behind her misguided attempt to remove your power.”
I shudder, but I am nowhere near ready to forgive Aurora. “You should go. And keep out of sight. The palace is under the impression that you’re in league with the Etherians.”
“I suppose I deserve that,” she allows with a sigh. “But there’s something else you need to know. Oryn is here.”
“Here?” My pulse kicks up, and I hurry to the window. The night is dark. “I don’t see anything. He couldn’t have followed us so quickly, and we would have seen them cross the mountains. I haven’t heard the sentries, or—”
“You don’t judge the High King of the Fae capable of masking himself?” She asks behind me. “That Oryn could not call on the winds to hasten his progress?”
Of course he could. I wheel around to face her. “Where is he, then? He cannot set foot on these lands.”
“There is only one place he could muster where our magic cannot harm him.” The sleeves of her gown billow softly in the draft. “The black tower. It was a Fae enchantment that bound the Shifter prisoner there for many centuries. The magic seeped into the stones.”
I shake my head. “I broke that enchantment ages ago.”
“There cannot be much of it left,” she agrees. “But enough for Oryn to make his final stand, if he is swift enough.”
And he will be. Which means I’ll need to be faster and far deadlier. I’m already reaching for my clothes. Thinking of how best to approach the tower and whom I might need to take with me. But then another thought lands in my mind.
If Oryn is in the black tower, Aurora might very well be with him.
CHAPTER FORTY
The brambles at the main gates part at my command.
Beneath my shroud of invisibility, it’s nothing to slip past the Fae guards flanking the entrance to the tower. In the end, I decided to come alone. It was better for Neve to keep hidden for the time being, and Oryn would immediately see our army coming if we began traipsing across the districts. I need to determine what we’re up against before we do anything drastic. And especially, I think with a stab of guilt, if he has Aurora.
Forget her, pet, Mortania urges.
I wish I could.
Inside the tower, water drips against the stones. The sea pounds the cliff face. The ghosts of my past sigh in every inky corner. Those of my present, the High King and a few other armored Fae, are huddled around a table spread with maps and markers. It’s not unlike a scene from Tarkin’s war room. Now that I think of it, Oryn and Tarkin are not entirely dissimilar. Both of them considered themselves masters of their own universes. And both greatly underestimated me.
I sharpen my hearing in order to pick up their conversation.
“The humans will take the land siege. Ours from above.”
“The boy?”
“Missing,” the Etherian answers with a grimace. “Apparently there was some scuffle when depositing him on his ship. And he may have acquired a steed.”
“Find him,” Oryn commands. “I do not care whether he survives, so long as we have a body to return to the mortal king. Our bargain regarding the prince’s return must be fulfilled.”
Had that been why the Ryna king agreed to send ships—whatever army he could scrounge up in exchange for his son? The Fae got the better half of that arrangement. I tiptoe behind the stump of a column. The scent of brine and rotting seaweed mingle with the floral essence of light Fae magic. Pallid moonlight glints off Oryn’s armor, which is a stunning display of interwoven gilded branches and chain mail that resembles a curtain of ivy leaves. The jeweled sigils of the seven Fae courts are embedded on his breastplate. And his cloak is fashioned out of the same material as the envoy’s leathers, hammered gold bark that billows in the night.
“Is the Marked one safe?”
“Indeed, My King. He and his battalion are heavily guarded.”
“Keep him watched. We know not what surprises the Vila may have in store.”
Murmurs of agreement. So Oryn brought his heir with him, which means he must be slightly worried that he’ll die here. Good. Another figure pads down the stairs. I press farther into the shadows.
“Ah. The Grace.” Oryn’s lip curls.
“You summoned me?” Rose is dressed in a Fae creation of bark-patterned trousers and a jacket seemingly comprised of supple branches, adorned with gilt-and-bronze leaves. Her pink hair is braided and pinned at the back of her head. A fresh wave of fury consumes me at the sight of her. How clever she must deem herself, having manipulated me into releasing her from the Garden. The same as when she would inflict her petty cruelties when I was the Dark Grace of Lavender House.
