Misrule, page 37
The throne room is a marvel, a cross between the glittering natural beauty of Etheria, Briar’s opulence, and the sinister elegance of the Dark Court. The Imps outdid themselves. The center aisle is lined with silver-limbed trees, whose branches crest in an arch over our heads. Ravens and hummingbirds flit among Briar roses sporting shades of deepest indigo and sparkling gold and shimmery opal. Jewel-eyed dragons roar down at us from eaves. Another lounges, balanced on the railing of the mezzanine. The chamber is lit with orbs that could have come from the Court of Dreams, with clusters of stars casting a surreal glow to the proceedings.
When the time comes, I walk with the other leaders of this re-formed council, down the aisle, and toward the dais. Take my place on one of the seven seats. The thrones of the Dark Court, with their broken Fae staffs, have been replaced in favor of chairs representing each clan. The Goblins’ is, naturally, decorated with an array of weapons. Aurora’s with the spread wings of a dragon. Mine with an assortment of intertwined Vila crests. In the center, at my specific request, is the seal of the twisted serpents. Regan’s. So that, in a way, she is here with me.
We’d called it a coronation, but there aren’t any crowns. Instead, a representative from each clan presents their elected council member with an identical ring. It’s fashioned from the gilded wreath of the Briar crown itself. Melted down and molded so that, while it looks like a crown, the tips are pointed toward our wrists—signifying that there will never be any single ruler of this land again. Along the band, jewels glimmer in the light. I press my fingertip into the sharp facets of the deep green emerald that represents the Vila.
Of course, the days since the final battle and founding of the Briar Court have not been entirely harmonious. The Etherians did not take kindly to the Imps’ pranks, and more than one Fae retaliated by compelling the creatures to dance for hours on end. The Goblins must be repeatedly reminded not to use the mortals for target practice. And I’ve had to intervene in countless squabbles between the turned Fae and their former brethren. But it will all smooth in time. Probably.
“Are you all right?” Aurora whispers beside me during the feast. “You have that look on your face.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I attempt a smile.
She’s not entirely convinced. But the wrinkles on her forehead smooth, and her attention drifts back to the festivities. Though I try to lose myself in the dancing and celebration, I can’t help but feel that something is missing. A deep gash in my soul that is impossible to staunch. I cannot tell if it’s my grief for Regan, or melancholy over the dissolution of the Dark Court, or simply exhaustion.
Eventually, pretending to be happy is too great an effort. I slip into the shadows and disappear to the old wings of the palace.
* * *
—
Callow meets me in the old library. I wander through the wreckage, the ghost of my former self trailing behind me. I leaf through what remains of the books I’d scoured for the answer to Aurora’s curse, questioning yet again what might have happened if I’d been brave enough to let her wake sooner. Would we be here today? Does it matter?
A breeze filters in through the gap in the wall, fluttering the brittle parchment. I pull another from a fallen shelf. A geography text. Its spine is broken, but its pages are filled with faded maps. It’s the kind of book I would have devoured a hundred years ago, insatiably curious about what lay beyond Briar’s borders. But that curiosity waned after founding the Dark Court. My gaze travels out the gap and over Briar, toward the sea.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Aurora picks her way through the room, lit only by the taper she carries. The brambles guarding the door have shriveled to husks. Callow chirrups a greeting, swooping down from her place on top of a bookshelf. Aurora laughs and takes a piece of dried meat from her pocket.
“Weren’t you enjoying the celebration? When I left, you were dancing with Derek.”
She nudges me. “Don’t say his name like that. I thought you two were coming around.”
“Slightly.” But I smirk. “Will he be going home soon?”
“As soon as we can ready a ship. He’s accepted the position we offered—ambassador to the human realms.”
I thumb the corner of the book. “Fitting. That’s what you planned for his great-great-grandfather or whoever, wasn’t it?”
She raises an eyebrow. “You remember that?”
“Of course.” I shrug. “I detested that prince, too.”
Aurora laughs. “You know, you’re not as hard-hearted as you’d like people to believe.”
I press a hand to my chest. “Don’t say things like that.”
She nudges me again. And I wish she would stand closer.
“But why are you up here alone?” Aurora asks, inspecting some of the books. “Don’t lie and say nothing is bothering you. I know better. Are you angry or disappointed? I would understand if part of you misses being Mistress of the Dark Court.”
“Maybe a little—but that’s not it.” There’s still a hollowness where Mortania’s presence dwelled, like a phantom limb. Sometimes I feel the urge to break things simply to watch them burn.
Yes, pet, I imagine I hear on the whine of the wind.
“Then what?”
“I miss Regan,” I say. “I wish that she could see the world we worked so hard to build. Even though I’m not sure she would have accepted it.”
Night creatures trade their calls outside.
“I’m sorry you lost your friend,” she says. And I know that she means it. “But I sense there’s more than that. Does it…have anything to do with us?”
Callow lands on my shoulder. And I voice the question that has been plaguing my heart since the moment her curse lifted. “Is there an us?”
She twists her ring. The jewels flash in the moonlight. “I love you, Alyce. I do. But, beyond that…I just don’t know.”
A chill wind sweeps through the gap in the wall. I wrap my arms around myself. “I’m not sure I do, either.”
She tries to smile, but it’s a flimsy thing. “Is that because of what happened at Oryn’s court? What I did?”
“Not entirely.” Stars glitter overhead, uncannily bright now that they’re not perpetually shrouded by thick clouds. “It’s not even about you. Except…there will always be a part of me that is wicked. A darkness. And I’m not ashamed of it. But I’m worried you’re waiting to see if I will change. I won’t.”
She sighs. Picks up a broken statuette of a dragon and traces its cracked wing. “That’s not what I’m waiting for. Though I can’t say that I’m not still angry, and hurt, over what happened to Briar. That I don’t still mourn everyone I lost.” She pauses. “Most of all, I just need to take a breath. Figure out who I am now that it’s all over.”
It’s a fair answer, if a painful one. And I realize, hearing her say it out loud, that perhaps a breath is what I need, too. Space to sort out these conflicting feelings. The geography text is open on a nearby table, detailed maps staring out at me. All those realms I never explored. But they are more than ink and paper.
“I’m leaving,” I say before I can stop myself.
“What?” The dragon falls with a thump. “Because of what I said? I didn’t mean—”
“No. Not because of that.” I pick up the book. Imagine what life is like within the borders of the other realms. “Briar is all I’ve ever known. First as the Dark Grace, and then as Nimara. I need to know who Alyce is away from all of this.”
Away from you, I don’t say. Because that’s not what I want. But it might be what I need—what we both need.
Tears shine in her eyes, amplifying the slivers of gold and green. “I don’t want you to go.”
A month ago, I probably would have murdered someone to hear her say that. But now, a single question forms in my mind. “But why do you want me to stay?”
It hangs in the air, her silence heavy enough that I know this is the right course. Even though it threatens to break me apart.
“I’ve been thinking,” I go on, to distract myself, “when the Vila and Demons and all the rest started coming to the Dark Court, they brought such horrible stories with them. I’ve heard about people who would collect Goblins like trophies. Villages like the one where Regan’s mother was killed. Neve’s Shifters were always searching for our kind in the realms across the sea, rescuing them. But we didn’t put enough focus on the effort. This court could.”
Aurora toys with the laces on her bodice. “And I suppose you want to be the one to do it?”
Yes. The desire races across every fiber of my being, stronger than I knew it was. “I want to do more with my power than turn candle flames green or give horns to mice.”
Aurora smiles softly at the memory of our time in the Lair.
“Imagine if Regan never had to endure all the hardships of her life,” I say. “I have to go—for her. And for me.”
It’s a long time before Aurora says anything. I don’t need her permission to leave. But I’d like to have her support.
Finally, she nods. “Perhaps you’re right.”
I don’t want to be right. I want to stay here and live the life I imagined for us. But that life was burned away when I seized Briar. And now we must make another.
“When will you go?”
“As soon as it can be arranged, I suppose.”
“And will you—” There’s a roughness to her voice. “Will you stay away forever?”
I wish I could tell her I’d be back. That our love would always reel me home. But I tell her the truth instead. “I don’t know.”
It wounds us both. She makes to leave, and I don’t call after her. But just before she reaches the door, she turns back. “I’ve been thinking, too. About the protections Endlewild and Laurel put on my curse.”
“What about them?”
“What if Laurel didn’t lie?” She asks, coming closer. “What if she did attempt to alter my memories of you. But she couldn’t. Because our love was too strong. There wasn’t anything capable of harming it like that.”
I turn this over in my mind. Aelfdene had said that true love was a farce. There was a time when I might have believed him. I still may. “Do you think that kind of love really exists?”
Instead of an answer, Aurora presses her lips to mine. I taste summer berries and sugared pastry and something else that is inexplicably her. Her hands go around my neck, drawing me closer. I drink her in, savoring every second.
And then she breaks off. “I suppose we’ll see.”
My lips still tingle, long after I’m alone.
* * *
—
The Briar Court stages a raucous send-off for me. The Imps present me with countless bags of food, and the Goblins with more weapons than I can possibly need—or carry. My pockets are bulging with scraps of paper—names of friends and family members believed to be in hiding, and I promise to do everything I can to bring them home.
“You’re sure about this?” Torin asks in the courtyard before I depart. I’ve just deflected another pack of wailing Imps.
“Don’t you start,” I groan. “You voted with the council to make me special ambassador.”
The title had been Aurora’s idea, and I’m grateful that she’s shown such support for what I’ve decided to do. But she isn’t here this morning. My chest aches with her absence, but I understand. We haven’t seen much of each other since the library. It’s probably better that way.
“I did.” The grooves in her skin pulse orange. “I’ve just…never known the Dark Court without you. It will be odd not seeing that bird around.”
From her perch on my shoulder, Callow warbles.
Torin tugs at her pendant. I still her hand, her fire-laced skin warm in the cool morning. “I have to go. For Regan and all the others.”
“Indeed.” Neve saunters from the palace. I had a time of convincing the Goblins not to gut her when she finally emerged after the last battle. But they eventually accepted that whatever happened with Oryn didn’t matter. Neve is one of us. She always will be. “Mine will be in touch after you send word of your location. They’ll arrange transport for whatever refugees you discover.”
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it. “And not just for that. You’ve done so much for me, when I didn’t deserve it.”
Neve deals me one of her cool Shifter smiles. “A debt must be paid.”
“And what do you want? Your rooms back?”
I meant it as a joke, but her expression remains serious. “Do not forget us.”
The answer surprises me so much that I cannot speak. And then, on an insane impulse, I throw my arms around the Shifter leader. It’s like embracing a statue at first—but then her hands tentatively pat my back.
“I’m sorry,” I say into her hair. “For not seeing you.”
“Yes, well.” She extracts herself. “I didn’t always behave in the most becoming manner toward you, either.”
I shrug. “I’m sure it won’t be the last time.”
She glares at me, but there’s a spark of amusement in her eyes.
Someone clears their throat behind me. “You’d best be going if you want enough daylight for the crossing.”
Derek has led Chaos into the courtyard. Saddlebags are strapped in place, and Callow flaps from my shoulder in favor of his haunches. He snorts a greeting and paws at the flagstones.
“Anxious to be rid of me?” I cross my arms.
“Yes,” he says, so blunt about it that a laugh punches up my throat.
He kneels to help me into the saddle. But I place a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll take care of her, won’t you?”
Derek flashes me that lopsided grin, his eyes a warm umber in the morning sun. “She doesn’t need my help, does she?”
An annoying emotion expands in my chest. “I’m going to miss tormenting you.”
“And I you, Nimara.”
“Call me Alyce.”
I make to heave myself into the saddle, but Neve stops me. “Are you really going to ride that creature out of here?”
“What do you mean? The journey is long, and—”
“And you flew from the High Court to this palace in a day. We have discussed this already. Do not ignore your strengths.” She jerks her chin toward the crowd. “Let them see you in all your glory.”
Her eyes glitter, and I grin back at her. Yes. Without a second thought, I command taloned wings to rip through the fabric of my shirt and lift me into the sky. A tail elongates through the base of my spine. Chaos vaults with me into the air, mane streaming in the breeze like the tail of a comet.
And as we rise higher, over the palace, I let out a roar.
It’s a sound like I’ve never made. A battle cry and a farewell all at once. The crowd below is in a frenzy as I circle the palace, waving and shouting. Even the light Fae look on, stoic as ever. I complete several laps with Callow and Chaos at my sides as the Imps pile atop one another and cheer. Goblins raise their spears and stomp their feet. Vila pump their fists and some of the Demons trail me in their shadow forms.
My attention snags on the endless blue of the horizon line. How long had I stared at it as the Dark Grace, desperate to know what lay beyond? It’s time to find out.
I steer toward the sea. But as we round the last turret, a figure materializes, pressed against the balcony railing, her golden hair whipping around her face. She lifts one hand, beckoning me or waving me on, I can’t tell which. But my keen eyes detect the sorrow etched in the lines of her form. The resolve. The love. A love that broke a curse, not once, but twice.
I roar a final time—for her. Aurora. Perhaps not destined to be queen, but certainly to bring about the dawn of her namesake.
And then the last shadow Demon melts away, and the palace shrinks into nothing.
EPILOGUE
“It’s been hours. Are you certain she’s coming?”
The Vila’s gaze travels up and down the rocky shoreline, forehead pinched above the bone spikes studding her eyebrows.
“Don’t be silly,” the other answers. “Of course she’s coming. Alyce wouldn’t drag us all this way for nothing.”
But it’s obvious that she’s trying to convince herself as well as her companion. She strangles her cloak in her fists, emerald eyes bright in the waning afternoon sun.
“She’s coming,” I assure them both. Callow chirrups from her perch on my shoulder.
Though I can’t blame them for their apprehension. It’s been a hundred years since I first set foot on these shores, but fear of my kind is alive and well. Despite the progress of the last decades, there will always be those who remain hungry to string up a Vila or a Shifter simply for the crime of existing. Not that I haven’t dispensed with plenty of them over the last decades. Months ago, I liberated a dozen Vila who were caged in a nobleman’s manor. He was attempting to craft his own version of elixirs with their blood. What I’d done to that nobleman does not bear repeating, but suffice it to say that I have found many opportunities to utilize my magic on this side of the sea.
“Briar,” the first Vila says, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s really what everyone claims it to be?”
This is likely the hundredth time she’s asked me about our court. But I am patient. “It is everything I promised and more,” I tell her. “You’ll not be turned away. I promise.”
They nod, still nervous. Few of those I rescue believe that their lives can be free of the fear that has seeped into the marrow of their bones. And I’ve met too many to count. Goblins living under bridges and demanding tolls be paid, a bounty on their warty heads. Imps mistaken for forest spirits with their pranks, trapped and kept as household pets. I’d discovered these two Vila only weeks ago, living in a dank and frigid mountain cave. They would have died of starvation if hunters hadn’t found them first. But they’ll never have to worry about that again.
