River’s heart stuttered, the frozen shock melting to molten terror. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let Klarissa be the one to make the cut now.
Not now, not ever, River’s soul whispered to him. Your quint is full. Filled with the most precious gift possible.
River rose, draining his yet-untouched wine goblet. “I have long insisted that Citadel business and Slait business be conducted separately, Klarissa. I am not about to waver on that now. I will bring my case before you and the council at the Citadel, not here. Shall I have one of the servants show you out, or do you know the way?”
Klarissa’s face darkened. Before she could speak, however, the male beside her, Pyker, bowed low in a silent request to be heard. “The council is aware that the severing procedure would leave your quint incomplete, Prince River,” Pyker said, his tone strong but deferential. “As you’ve likely surmised from my presence, the elders believe it would be possible for me to heal into the bond. It . . . it would be the greatest honor of my life to serve beside you, Your Highness. And should you wish to test my skills before considering such a pairing, I am at your full disposal and command.”
“Noted,” River said, careful to keep his face still. Pyker sounded like he was truly requesting consideration, which went contrary to the council’s usual method of providing a compatible fae warrior of their choice when the situation called for it.
River gestured toward the door and the others filed out obediently, Pyker bowing low again before departing. But Klarissa, the last besides River in the receiving room, stopped short. Twisting smoothly before the door, the female closed it behind her, trapping them inside together, and extended her finger to touch River’s face.
River stepped out of reach, his jaw tightening.
“You can’t mourn Daz forever, River,” she said. “It isn’t healthy for you. Especially since she is alive and happy with a family of her own now. The quint magic chose you, and she chose not to compete with that. Not everyone has the same outlook, you know.”
“I am not taking you to bed, Klarissa,” River said curtly. “Was there something else you wished to discuss?”
The female crossed her slender arms. “Your mortal,” she said flatly. “The council is concerned that you are exposing the girl to undue stress and danger.” She stepped close to River again, her nail tapping his chest. “Leralynn will be provided with everything she needs upon her return to the mortal realm. Money, clothing, shelter. Lunos magic ripped her away from her world, and the council will repair the damage.” Klarissa paused, her voice dropping. “Stop using the riches of your palace to make Leralynn fear returning to her life, River. If you care for the mortal—and I’ve a feeling you might, your cold smile notwithstanding—you will ensure she is safe in a way she never can be in Lunos.”
24
Leralynn
The meeting leaves me cold. Colder than Shade’s stern side left me. Freezing.
In one swift moment I almost lost the quint, and despite knowing that moment was coming, it nearly shredded me apart. For every fiber in me that’s grateful for the temporary reprieve, there is another cringing from the dark cloud of what’s to come.
A bath. I want a bath and then I want Autumn.
“Leralynn.” Klarissa’s melodic voice catches me halfway down the corridor.
I turn toward the sound of my name, but somehow find Coal already there, pushing me behind him.
Klarissa opens her hands to show Coal her empty palms, then looks past the warrior to lock gazes with me. “Might we speak for a moment, Leralynn?” Klarissa asks, her voice silky with reason. “I promise to ask nothing of you, only to offer you information and answer any questions you might wish to ask. As one of the council elders, it is my duty to ensure your wellbeing.”
I dissect Klarissa’s words, looking for a trap. “How do I know you won’t drag me into the Gloom?” I ask.
I expect the female to laugh at me, but Klarissa nods respectfully. “That is an excellent concern. I’m pleased that the basics have been explained to you. I do believe you would feel safer if Coal answered your query on my behalf. Coal?”
Coal crosses his arms, his eyes hard on Klarissa as he answers me. “She can’t pull you into the Gloom because the palace is warded.”
“Thank you, Coal,” Klarissa says, as if praising a pupil. “Does that make you feel better, Leralynn?”
No. But I can’t explain why either. Raising my chin, I step toward Klarissa, my shoes leaving indents on the soft rug. If she has information to offer, I’ll listen. I can make up my own mind after that. Behind me, Coal growls softly but moves to the end of the hall, respecting my choice. “I’m listening,” I say, my clipped tone adding a silent for now, which Klarissa ignores.
“I understand the past few days have been quite eventful for you,” the elder says smoothly. She runs her fingers over the priceless fresco on the wall, as if studying the hounds painted there. “I’d say I know how you feel, but that would be a lie. To be frank, I’ve no notion of how quint magic affects a mortal. Though I understand that the differences are profound.”
I keep my voice even. “Why do you say that?”
She shrugs one bare shoulder. “Because the quint went all the way to you. You did not go to them.” She taps the wall, her nail drumming a rhythmic click click click against the plaster. “When the magic calls an immortal into a quint, the pull is too strong to be denied. Some die on their way. Coal clawed his way from Mors. But you . . . you didn’t so much as leave your stable, did you?”
No. I didn’t. I want to mull over what that means, but this isn’t the time for it. I feel Klarissa watching, checking whether Coal’s background shocks me, whether her insight into my own movements unsettles me at all. I offer her a simpering smile. “Ah. I see.”
She smiles back, showing me her canines. “Did the males share with you how Kai died?”
No, again. I slip my hands into the pockets of my billowy silk pants, giving my hands something to do.
Klarissa steps away from the fresco and looks out the window, as if she can see beyond the manicured gardens of the Slait palace. She starts the story without waiting for my permission, and I’m helpless to stop her. “The quint had just dispatched a school of piranhas—small-minded worm-shaped creatures with five-foot-long bodies and a voracious appetite. The creatures usually stay deep in the Gloom but have been surfacing to feed more and more often the past hundred years. The fight was over, the quint victorious and resting. Shade, however, thought they might have missed something. Not wanting to disturb the others on a hunch, he stepped into the Gloom alone.”
“You mean Kai,” I correct.
“No. Shade.” She frowns, her gaze still on the distant land. “Turned out that Shade was right. The quint had missed something—a gateway through which the slimy bastards had gotten into the Gloom shallows to begin with. While the quint was resting in the Light above, the piranhas were refilling the Gloom. And when Shade stepped back in, the whole school of them were on him in an instant. Sinking their needle-sharp teeth into Shade’s flesh. Chomping off pieces.”
Bile rises up my throat and I try to swallow without drawing attention.
“They’d gotten a jump on Shade, you see, and he couldn’t return. But Kai was Shade’s twin, and he felt his brother’s life fading. So Kai rushed in after Shade and pulled him out. But . . . there wasn’t enough of Kai left to save after that.”
Blood drains from my head, making me dizzy. The images from Klarissa’s story swarm in my mind. Stars.
“Shade couldn’t defend himself,” Klarissa continues, “and it took Kai’s life to save him. That often happens in quints: It isn’t the one in peril who dies, but the ones who go to his—or her—rescue.” Klarissa’s dark eyes swing to me, giving me time to absorb her words, to imagine who in the quint now could likely be in peril and who would be going to her rescue. Klarissa’s voice drops so low, I can barely make out the words. “Listen to me, girl. The magic in those males’ veins makes
it physically difficult for them to separate from you, no matter how badly they wish to. It is easier on your end. If you’ve come to care for any of them, protect their lives by returning home.”
My chest tightens and I nod, not trusting my voice.
“One other thing,” Klarissa says, slipping a small red jewel into my palm. “If you need me, smear a drop of blood onto the jewel and I’ll come to help.”
25
Leralynn
I stay where I am as Klarissa glides away, her feet silent on the plush carpet. Shifting a step over, I look at the fresco she was studying while we talked. A tranquil scene of a field with five identical hounds chasing an elusive fox through the brush. The paint is old, much of the plaster cracked with age, but beautiful nonetheless. The female covets beautiful things, I think.
Like River.
I flinch at my own thought. The reflexive jealousy it sparks.
“What was that about?” Autumn asks, stepping up beside me. Coal, still standing at the end of the corridor, leans against the wall, his arms crossed. Autumn slips her arm through mine. “What did that viper say to you?”
She showed me how dangerous I am. I swallow. “Klarissa told me about piranhas. How they killed Kai.”
Autumn squeezes my hand. “There are much worse things than piranhas in the Gloom and Light both. The worms are vile, flesh-eating, swarming things, but mindless for the most part. It’s the qoru I worry about, the sentient Mors dwellers. Them, and the Night Guard—the fae who’ve pledged allegiance to the Mors emperor.”
“Why would anyone pledge allegiance to Mors?” I ask.
Autumn shrugs. “They are laying a wager that Mors will return to power, and when it does, they wish to be on the winning team. Point is that there is always something trying to kill us, so we might as well live now.” She cuts a sly glance my way. “And those four weren’t truly alive until you came.”
The female turns her attention to the fresco and chuckles. “Oh, stars, you found this one, didn’t you?”
I shake my head in confusion. “Is something amiss?”
There is a snort behind me and I turn to find Tye’s amused eyes. “Oh, this one is good. Used to be even better.”
Autumn points to the wall with her chin. “When River and I were a hundred or so, our mother insisted we study art. The master painted this one hound, and we were supposed to copy him over, twice each. Can you guess which ones are River’s?”
I squint, looking closely at the identical pups. No, not identical. Now that I’m paying attention, I find one amazingly painted dog, two painfully careful imitations, and two . . . “Do these dogs have five legs?” I ask, afraid of touching the priceless wall, though no one else seems to be. “Wait, those aren’t legs, they’re . . . erm . . .”
“That’s a young fae colt’s idea of manhood,” Autumn confirms.
“Oh, stars.” My hand comes up to cover my mouth.
Autumn grins. “You should have heard the beating he got for that. He knew he would too. And you know what the stupidest part of the whole affair was? He could have told our mother he hated painting before it all started.” Autumn pulls me along down the corridor, letting the silence settle for a moment before speaking again. “River isn’t always good with reaching for words. Not when it comes to people who matter.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, the longed-for bath quickly dissolving from plan to dream.
“Provisioning,” says Autumn.
“What does that entail and why am I doing it?” I jerk my head toward Coal. “That one has the look of one planning a training session. It seems a shame to deprive him of the opportunity to bring me to tears.”
“That one is coming with us.” Autumn raises her voice, though I know fae hearing well enough by now to guess that the change is a simple formality. “You lot are setting out for the Citadel tomorrow and need, well, everything. River is dealing with the horses and I’m outfitting you and Coal. Tye has already stolen everything he needs.”
The red-haired male blinks innocently. “I’m efficient.”
I rub my face, the storm of Autumn’s plans battling with the vestiges of Klarissa’s words. It isn’t the one in peril who dies, but the ones who go to his—or her—rescue. I let out a long breath, pushing the fact away for later. “So what’s his job in all this?” I ask, pointing at Tye.
“The usual, I think—to be a pain in our ass,” Autumn answers thoughtfully. “At least, that’s the only job I’ve ever seen him do with any amount of skill.”
“Oh, I have skills,” Tye purrs in a way that makes my skin blaze hot with memory. “I’m along to offer my valuable opinion of Lilac Girl’s clothing choices. And I think we should start the search by trying on undergarments.”
I turn to Autumn, my eyes pleading. “He isn’t really coming with us, is he?”
“He is,” Autumn says grimly. “So is that one over there, who is feigning deafness.”
That one over there—Coal—edges his way toward the door. “I have everything I need.”
“You can argue with River all you want about that,” Autumn informs him. “I’m certainly not going to. Now quit your whining and come along. Tye says he’s interested in underclothes.”
“Not his underclothes,” Tye protests as the slender female sweeps all three of us up in her wake with the efficiency of a small hurricane.
I’m alone in my bed that night, having last seen Shade gnawing on a soup bone in the corner of the dining room. The wolf’s eyes met mine for a moment just as he was opening his maw to engage his back molars against the crunchy cartilage, as if shouting mine.
I’m still unsure how to reconcile the furry wolf with the commanding warrior of this morning. One thing is certain: I’ve underestimated the power of these four from the beginning, having thought of only Coal and River as the truly dangerous ones. The power of Shade’s voice—the confident, unyielding demand of it—is still echoing through my bones as I snuggle down into the covers, wondering how I can hate and want him so badly all at the same time.
I wake before the sun, pulling on new leather-lined pants that Autumn insisted River wanted me to have. All part of a kit that we assembled yesterday in preparation for the week-long journey to the Citadel. Having spent all the life I can remember at Zake’s stable, the past few days of moving from place to place are feeding my nerves with a steady diet of anxiety and excitement that result in little sleep.
Slipping out of my room into the dark corridor, I go to step onto the plush carpet—only to trip over a large log that sure as hell wasn’t there when I went to bed. The floor rushes up to meet me, my nose smacking into the rug. My hands go to my mouth to cover a yelp just as the damn log groans and opens a pair of offended yellow eyes.
“Argh.” I collect my feet under me and rise as the log shifts into Shade’s fae form.
“Why are you up this early?” he asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He is once more without a shirt, and the carpet’s pattern has made imprints on his skin. My hands long to run over the fatigued muscles, and I stick my hands into my armpits to keep the idea in check.
“Why are you sleeping outside my door?” I ask instead of answering him, looking down to assure myself that I am in fact dressed. Supple leather tucked into good boots and a close-spun red top wink back at me reassuringly.
Shade stretches, the six perfect squares of his abdomen shifting like velvet. “I didn’t think I’d be welcome inside,” he says quietly.
My cheeks heat, though a tingle low in my belly questions Shade’s assumption. I sigh. “Why are you not in your own bed?”
Shade scratches behind his ear. With his hand, not his foot, at least. “I don’t like leaving you unprotected,” he confesses. “None of us do.”
“Well, you can’t be sleeping on the floor outside my door either,” I point out in what I think are reasonable tones, which Shade promptly snorts at. I push the issue aside—there might not be any more bedrooms with doors between now and when we arrive at t
he Citadel anyway. “Where is Coal sleeping?” I ask.
“He was sleeping in here,” Coal answers from a door two paces away. Shirtless and wearing a pair of well-worn breeches, Coal ties his hair back as he steps into the corridor. “Why the bloody hell is the mortal up at this hour?” he demands of Shade.
I smile sweetly at him. “Because the mortal is going riding. And she thought you might wish to join her.”
Coal’s brow twitches. “The mortal doesn’t know how to ride.”
“Then the mortal is going falling,” I say with a shrug, turning toward the stairs. “I’ll give Czar your regards.”
“Wait!” There is a small crashing sound as Coal grabs his boots, which he pulls on as he scrambles after me. “Czar is mine. Fall from your own bloody horse.”
I stop, blinking at Coal as I process what he said. He smirks at me and pushes past, bellowing for River as he walks. The prince steps out from the room beside Coal’s, looking exactly as he did when I saw him yesterday evening, in simple but finely tailored black pants and a white shirt.
“Did you sleep at all?” I ask the prince.
“No.” He turns to Coal. “You shouted?”
Coal gestures lazily to my riding leathers. “Should we show her?”
River nods, a small, uncharacteristic smile touching his face.
My heart hops in my chest, my eyes narrowing at the males. Any upper hand I had this morning has clearly been usurped. “Talk.”
“Leave Shade and come along, Leralynn,” River orders, leading me and Coal through the dawn’s breaking rays into the stable, where the familiar scents of leather, hay, and horse greet me with a friend’s caress.
A curious mare sticks her nose out of her stall, whinnying sleepily at us. Coal stays behind with me while River walks farther in without lighting a lantern. Fae eyes. Fae sense of smell. Fae hearing. These beings are such predators that it’s a wonder the horses haven’t rebelled against them altogether.