“I am not discussing this with you,” Zephyr said.
His father stared at him. “It was your choice of topic.”
There was a line that they sometimes neared in conversations when Zephyr couldn’t tell if his fae father was joking or not. Truthfully, Zephyr wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He’d decided to try to build a relationship of sorts with him, partly because it wasn’t Rhys’ fault that he was unaware he’d fathered a child.
“You dislike me,” Rhys said after a moment. “I am not . . . good at familial things, but I am not without good qualities. I have killed many skilled enemies. I wrote a few books.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Illustrations and explanations of combat tactics for humans.”
Zephyr laughed suddenly, despite best intentions.
His father’s answering scowl was clearly not what either of them hoped to have happen, but the way Rhys was explaining his strengths was ludicrous. He was the second most skilled fighter in the Hidden Lands. That alone was enough to make him worthy of respect. He was also the Unseelie prince.
Rhys stood statue-still, no longer speaking or moving.
“I know you are worthy of respect,” Zephyr said carefully. “I’ve never had much expectation of having a fae father. We were told we were full fae, that we had families who volunteered us for service to our people.”
“You had no hopes as to your parents?”
Zephyr shrugged. Who didn’t imagine their fantasy family? It was something that everyone had done at some point. Perhaps Zephyr hadn’t had much cause to want to give up his human one, the people he’d thought of as foster parents. They doted on him, thought he was brilliant, talented, handsome. All things that made them realize that he had fae-blood. His mother, obviously, had always known. She was young and lovely, still starring in blockbuster films—more than a few either directed or produced by his father.
Zephyr never wondered if his parents were in love. He never questioned whether or not they stayed in love either. If anything, Zephyr found their mutual adoration proof of the good in a world where fairy tales were dead. So did the media who doted on their relationship, casting them as meant to be.
Growing up with them was proof that it wasn’t all a lie. Zeke Waters had treated his delicate wife extra carefully when he realized Zephyr had fae-blood, assuming that his beautiful young wife must have fae-blood too. It made him treat her like she could be swept away from him at any turn, like their baby was the greatest miracle in history. Journalists remarked on how much Zeke Waters indulged his young wife and son, and it meant that no effort was too much or too expensive to protect Zephyr when his affinity blossomed.
Having even a drop of fae blood was grounds for arrest, and that bias meant there was an entire industry dedicated to hiding fae-blood, as well as mimicking it for scandal’s sake. Both were a benefit to Zephyr.
“Arabella was good to you?”
Zephyr walked over and lifted a sword from those that Rhys had brought today. “Aside from lying to me my whole life, yes.”
Rhys said nothing as he selected a different sword, a more beautiful one, and held it out. “That one is not for you.”
“Why?”
“Because it is dull. This one”—he flipped it so he was holding it by the blade and extended it farther toward Zephyr—“is sharp.”
Blood droplets slid along the blade, seeming to be absorbed by it. Rhys said nothing as the sword drank in his blood. He squeezed tighter, in fact, so that more blood dripped along the steel.
Zephyr wasn’t so unfamiliar with the fae that he thought this was insignificant. “Does it require blood?”
“No. It’s not hungry steel.” Rhys met his eyes then, not quite speaking but nonetheless insisting that Zephyr take the sword.
Zephyr accepted the weapon then, feeling the weight of it in his whole body. This was fae-wrought steel, and something in it hummed as if it had found its way home. That wasn’t reasonable for inanimate objects, at least not ones that were outside his affinity.
“It was the queen’s,” Rhys said. “She gave it to me when I was a child.”
“It . . .” Zephyr looked from the sword to Rhys. There were really no words that were appropriate. If there were, he didn’t know them.
“You are the first-born son of the Unseelie prince, Zephyr. I know that means less than—”
“No,” he interrupted. “It means a lot.”
“My son.” Rhys seemed paternal in that instant. “You are my child, so this sword was meant to be given to you.”
Zephyr felt like his throat was tight. It wasn’t a familiar feeling. Sure, he got emotional sometimes about Alkamy or about his duty to the Hidden Lands, but that was it. Excess wasn’t his norm.
“It drinks,” Rhys added offhand, “so that if you are lost, I can find you if it’s with you . . . so can she. Our blood is in the blade. Those who feed it by choice can find it. There are words you say when you nourish it. I will teach you. None other than the queen and I know the words.”
“The creator of the sword?” Zephyr asked.
Rhys frowned. “Was killed upon completion of his work. Mother is very . . . thorough when it comes to protecting her family.”
“Of course she is,” Zephyr said lightly. Perhaps it was wrong of him to feel uncomfortable with his family’s bloodied hands. He wasn’t exactly innocent, but he couldn’t help the shudder that he had to repress. Killing for a cause seemed different from killing as a payment for having done a good job.
The sword Rhys had lifted was, yet again, a dull sword, but Zephyr was well aware that most people wouldn’t stand a chance against his father if he were wielding a sharp blade. This was a practice blade, one he could use when training. Doing so while Zephyr held a sharp blade was new, but there was no way Zephyr was going to suggest elsewise now that he understood that the weapon in his hands was his father’s way of letting him know that he was valued.
In what Zephyr suspected was to be a casual voice, Rhys asked, “Have any of you slaughtered groups of humans lately?”
Zephyr shook his head. “I’ve heard about some attacks, but . . . it wasn’t us.”
“The queen believed it was not, but she asked that I inquire.” Rhys frowned. “It is not good.”
“The slaughter?” Zephyr reminded himself yet again that the fae did not speak with the same nuances that humans did.
“Going against the queen,” Rhys clarified. “Her Sleepers have been culled, and your team is not behind it. The guilty are either fae or fae-blood, however, and acting in direct defiance of the queen. You will tell me if you learn anything of use . . . and be cautious.”
At that, Zephyr realized that some of his father’s vigorous training was a result of fear. The tone in his voice was one Zephyr had heard from his mother and stepfather often enough. It was enough to make him smile. “I will. You have my word.”
Rhys nodded once.
“Shall we?” Zephyr asked, hefting his sword into a high guard position.
Rhys said nothing, merely swung at him, and Zephyr couldn’t help but smile again. It wasn’t the way most people expressed their affection, but expecting his fae family to behave like humans would only disappoint everyone involved. His fae father was making him better able to stay alive. It was, all considered, exactly what good parents did all the time, only in slightly different ways.
eight
LILYDARK
When Lily heard the roar that came out of Hector, her instinct was to jerk the door open and lash out, despite her common sense telling her that action was unwise. He was hers. Her duty was to those under her protection, and while he was a guard, he was still her guard. And whether she liked it or not, the instinctual need to protect her own had intensified with the acceptance of the heir’s crown. It was changing her, making her more driven by instinct than by the rational rule-based approach she’d learned as the daughter of Nicolas Abernathy.
Her hand was on the door when Violet blocked her way. “Let him do his job,
LilyDark.”
Lily stared at her.
“He is human, and the guards are arresting him because of Abernathy business,” Violet said levelly.
Hector’s arrival should have heralded an end to the trouble, but instead, the police arrested him. It wasn’t the absolute worst thing that could’ve happened, but when the sounds of violence quieted, Lily’s temper was still heightened. She paced farther from the door, partly to avoid the temptation to push past Violet and open it.
“Do you think this is about the attacks?” Violet asked.
Alkamy startled. She curled up on the sofa, seeming more fragile than usual. She didn’t reply.
“Maybe,” Will murmured. He stood at the open window of the suite’s common room with his face tilted to the sky, as if the air were flowing to him. It could be, for all she knew. Will was sometimes difficult to read. They shared an affinity, but that didn’t make him any more comprehensible to her. The nature of Lily’s multiple affinities was that she shared one with every member of the group.
“It was none of us,” Lily said. She knew they all had secrets, but this was more than a secret. Someone was killing people in ways that were obviously patterned on the attacks of the Black Diamonds.
“It was not,” Will agreed.
“It’s about your father,” Violet said. “They said his name. They don’t know about . . .”
Lily shook her head. “They won’t until the queen outs me. When that happens, people will think we are guilty.”
“We are,” Will said quietly. “Maybe not for these atrocities, but we’ve done plenty.”
Sparks glittered around Violet. “Not by choice!”
“Vi,” Alkamy said softly. There was nothing more, only Violet’s name, but it was enough to make the sparks lessen.
Will shrugged. “They are still as dead as the people dying now.”
Violet’s sparks flashed brighter, as if she couldn’t contain all of her fire. That happened more and more lately. No one discussed it, but Lily was certain they’d all noticed.
Before the guilt in Will’s voice or the anger in Violet’s could lead to more troubles, Lily held up her hands. “This is not helping.”
The usually at-peace friends were staring at one another, but they held their silence. Alkamy watched them, but she remained quiet.
Lily grabbed the phone and called her father. “Hector was arrested,” she said as soon as Daidí picked up. “The police were here when he showed up and—”
“I’ll handle it.” Daidí sounded weary, but he didn’t volunteer anything. Phone lines were never truly secure. “Stay at the school unless your . . . mother’s family sends for you.”
“I thought I was coming home to you.”
“If Hector was taken and they’re already bothering you, it’s best for you to stay there. You know not to go with them.” Daidí sounded increasingly agitated. “You’ve done nothing illegal, Lily. I’ll have the lawyers handle this disturbance . . . once I wake them. It’s too early in the day for so much trouble.”
There was something in his voice that made her more afraid than she liked. The forced lightness was underlined with fear. She recognized it from the years of overprotectiveness, but it was worse than normal. She started, “If the police come, I have no choice but—”
“Yes, you do. There is nothing you should refuse to do if it keeps you out of their hands. She would not take well to your imprisonment, LilyDark. You must understand . . . She’s accepting a new plan, but she’s not without temper.”
Lily laughed, despite the seriousness of everything. There were understatements, and then there was that. The Queen of Blood and Rage had spent so much time attacking humanity, the stories that were told in the dark of night claimed that the queen’s now-dark hair had once been as white as new snow. They said that its black-red color had come from the blood of her victims.
Lily wasn’t sure that she believed that her grandmother had blood-darkened hair, but the point was the same: Endellion was not to be angered.
“You know where to go if you need sanctuary,” Daidí added. “Keep your singer near, too, if you’re not going to allow Erik to come protect you.”
“Are you safe?” Lily asked. It had been just the two of them for most of her life, and there was no ceiling on what she was willing to do to protect her father. “If you need me to come there, I can—”
“I am safe, and there is no way I will go there if at all possible. I kept your mother from her family. That’s how they’ll see it. It’s not the whole truth, of course. Your mother chose this life, Lily.”
“I believe you,” she assured him.
After they exchanged words of affection and finished their conversation, Lily was left with her friends, who were watching her as if in anticipation of orders. There wasn’t a manual on dealing with this sort of thing, juggling the risks of being an Abernathy on one side but still not doing anything to upset a woman whose very name was one of violence. All Lily had expected to find when she started school at St. Columba’s was the awkwardness of trying to figure out how to have classes and live around strangers.
“Classes,” she said. “Breakfast and then classes.”
Alkamy finally stirred from her silence. “Is it a good idea? We could skip.”
Violet rolled her eyes. “There are guards outside right now—fae and human. They stand in shadows, and they patrol the gardens, and . . . I see them. I feel them, Kam. They might not have stopped the police from entering the school, but there’s no way they’ll let anyone take Lily.”
“She has a point about the guards,” Will said mildly.
Alkamy looked at Lily. “Did you notice them?”
“They’re careful, but yeah. I can sense that they’re out there too,” Lily said.
Alkamy looked down guiltily.
“I’m going to breakfast. The rest of you can come or not.” Lily shrugged. They had food in the room, but she wanted to act like things were normal for at least a little while longer.
“Your dad’s okay though?” Violet asked.
Lily flashed her a grateful smile. “He is.”
“Things will get better,” Alkamy said. “Peace is coming, and then . . . it’ll be better.”
Lily walked to the door and pulled it open, grateful that there were no armed men lurking to try to arrest her. She wasn’t sure what would’ve happened to them if they had. Now that she thought about the nearby fae guards, Lily was grateful that the worst that would happen today was Hector’s arrest.
nine
CREED
The following day, Creed watched the rest of the diamonds move through the school as if they expected violence at every turn. Violet, in particular, struggled with the twin desires to stay at Lily’s side and to go with Will and Roan, who were more on edge than the rest.
“Are they fighting?” he whispered to Violet.
She shook her head slightly.
“Trouble with Will’s mom?” He wasn’t a huge fan of the senator. Will seemed okay with her overprotectiveness, but most of them had parents who were either absent or indulgent. The senator was both and neither at the same time.
Violet paused, looking at Will the way she’d typically study one of her forging projects. It wasn’t the first time Creed had seen her gaze at one of them that way. Metal and fire she could understand. Others’ emotions, less so.
Will, however, was rarely a puzzle to her. They seemed as close as siblings.
“He’s keeping secrets,” she said. “I’m not sure what . . . but there’s something.”
“Do you think he’s the one who—”
“Killed people?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Creed pointed out gently. They’d all done horrible things; pretending otherwise was foolish.
Violet looked like she wanted to argue but couldn’t.
He let it drop.
They were finished with classes by early afternoon, and the weight of things unsaid was leading to short tempers
and sharp words.
Zephyr asked, “Who wants to practice in the garden?”
“Vi and I can meet you there,” Creed offered.
“I’m in,” Will said at the same time.
“Pass,” Alkamy said. “I just want to take a nap.”
The confusion on Zephyr’s face was priceless. He’d attached himself to Alkamy so tightly that, by comparison, it made Creed look like he ignored Lily. The only question was whether someone would take mercy on Zephyr or if he’d have to be the one to suggest that Alkamy needed supervision to walk to her suite.
“I need to grab a sword,” Lily said after a moment of watching Zephyr struggle. “Why don’t we walk Kam up to the suite, and then I can come with you to the garden?”
Zephyr looked back at Creed and Violet. “We’ll meet you at the garden in twenty.”
For the first time in hours, Violet didn’t snap or sound tense. She simply said, “Got it.”
And that was the strange beauty of how they worked: even when things were off, they were still able to function as a unit. No one needed to say that it was unwise to be alone and unguarded. No one needed to argue that they could look after themselves. They worked because they cared.
Creed kissed Lily quickly, and then he and Violet went to the garden.
Once they were alone, Violet asked, “If the fae attacks keep up, do we have a plan? She hasn’t mentioned anything to me, but I thought she might’ve told you something.”
He wished he could say that Lily had a plan, or that he thought that they were in the clear, but the truth was that the violence seemed to be getting worse. Two apartment buildings had been burnt to the ground in the sort of infernos that were impossible to stop. There were fae-bloods who might be able to do that, but Creed was starting to think that a full-blooded faery was more likely to be the culprit.
“Lily’s not heard anything. I’m just hoping that things won’t get worse.”