Kings: Chaos Book 5.5 (2 page)

He headed up to the top deck instead for some air. The boards were damp, the wind almost completely still. Yvette stood by the rails, mournfully gazing out at the water.

He joined her. She didn’t seem surprised.

He inhaled deeply, the scent of brine filling his nostrils. “Are you up late or awake early?”

She shrugged, her face wan and peaky. “Up early. I had a dream about… well, a foretelling of my death.”

“And was it a good death?”

She let her hair fall forward, covering her expression. “I was told I would die by the blade of my brother. I heard it once before, a long time ago. I didn’t think I would hear it again.”

“Well, then. If it hasn’t come true by now, you must be safe.”

“I made sure of that,” she said so softly, he wasn’t entirely sure she had spoken.

He gazed up at the sky. Dawn had yet to hit, and the sky was grey and lilac. He wished Cara could see it.

“Why are you awake?” Yvette asked. “Did you dream, too?”

“I think I dreamt of the god
Manannán
,” he said.

She inhaled sharply. “Did you? And did he give you permission to pass?”

“Yes, actually.” He looked down at her. “How did you know?”

“
Manannán
judges the travellers,” she whispered. “He chooses if the way will be easy or difficult.”

“The travellers? Because so many
fae
cross the sea?”

She faced front again. “I… read it in the book. Perhaps more
fae
crossed than we know.”

“A book from your library,” he said. “Cara seems to think there is a lot missing from your library.”

“And yet I’m the only one in the realm capable of finding a book with images of the First Tree within. The library has been standing a long time. Of course things get lost. Cara seems to think that anyone who doesn’t fall at her feet is your enemy.” She glanced at him. “She’s dangerous. I know you don’t want to hear it, but she’s a danger to our alliance.”

“There’s no danger,” he said gruffly. That was a lie, and they both knew it. What would he do if Cara begged him not to marry Yvette?

“You know as well as I do that there will always be a danger there. If not your heart, then consider your life, Brendan. She’s out of control. We all saw that at her ceremony; she lost herself to the magic completely, and everyone suffered. I’ve heard stories of her actions at court. She uses her emotions as a punishment. We can’t fight against that. If her own actions don’t kill her, then your affection will. I’ll not be disrespected by either of you.”

He glanced down at her, surprised by her fierceness. “Was it you then? At the ceremony. Did you do something to Cara that night?”

“I found out how dangerous she is,” she said in a low voice. “And it’s worse than I ever thought. You cry out against chaos, but what is more chaotic than that human?” She hesitated. “Haven’t you ever considered the possibility that Chaos
wants
her around? Sadler went after her for a reason. His god was never as strong until she showed up.”

His fingers clenched into fists. “You will not repeat this, Yvette.”

“Does she know how fearful you are on her behalf, I wonder?” She turned and laid her hand on his arm. “I have no quarrel with her as long as she doesn’t interfere with us, but remember this, Brendan, you’re the one with the power to make her my enemy. If you are weak, she will be the one who suffers for it.”

He moved out of her reach, but it was too late. The cold was inside of him now, reliving the old fears. He had always been the most dangerous person in the realm when it came to Cara’s life. And he had already been too reckless. As a youth, he had learned too late to respect the lives and hearts of humans. He had been paying for his mistakes ever since, and the last thing he could bear was Cara paying the punishment in his stead.

He couldn’t face being alone with his thoughts, so he stood there in silence alongside a woman who could easily destroy every part of him. Dawn soon broke, the sky shedding its grey shroud in favour of pink and purple.

“We’ll soon move into open sea,” Yvette said.

He decided not to ask her how she knew that. He stared at the remains of land in the distance. They had been having a strange few days, partly why his soldiers were ill. One moment the way was calm and clear, the next, it grew stormy. And so it went. Interspersed with the weather, sections of land came and went, some he recognised, and some he didn’t.

“That lighthouse,” he said slowly. “Where is that?”

“It’s the human realm,” she said. “This is an intersection. Can’t you feel how close the worlds are here?”

“We’ve been travelling in and out of realms?” he asked in wonder. He hadn’t considered that possibility. “Without a portal?”

“The portal will come soon. Everything was connected, once.”

“Until the gods interfered,” Brendan said bitterly.

She glanced at him. “It wasn’t just the human realm that was taken from you. Your… our realm was disconnected from everything. These intersections are the only remaining links beside the portals. Make the most of the view. This is the last time we’ll see land for a long time.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I studied hard,” she said sharply before leaving him there.

Disconcerted, he stared at the land in view. He had seen that lighthouse before, on a journey from the Fade. The Fade was a terrible place, a purgatory for trapped souls until they lost themselves and became monstrous shades. But Cara had done the unthinkable and rescued him, and on the way home, she had pointed out the human beach she used to visit.

But she had shown him the lighthouse from the cliff by the Hauntings. That meant he should be able to see the faery realm, too. But there was nothing, and soon, even the lighthouse seemed to recede. He kept watching, and as a cloud shifted, the shadow of the cliffs he sought out momentarily appeared. He squinted, trying his best to focus. The cliffs appeared then disappeared as though flashes of magic revealed the location.

His heart skittered. For a split second, he saw the cliff clearly, and the flutter of a black cloak above. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, and no matter how much longer he watched, he saw no other sign of land. But he was almost certain he had seen something on the edge of the cliff, a figure soon shrouded in mist. Could it be have been Cara?

Of course not. How could it be? They couldn’t have found the stone of destiny already.
Please let them find it
, he prayed silently to
Brighid
, a god he had openly shunned. He prayed to her in moments of desperation on behalf of those he cared for, but never himself.
Please let them find the stone. And keep them safe. All of them
.

Chapter Two

Drake

He pushed his horse as fast as it would go, travelling through an unwelcome forest to get to his sick wife. If she died, the balance of power shifted unfavourably. All would be lost.

And a piece of him—a piece he kept well buried—worried for her sake, too. She was his only companion, the only one who understood the pressure of running the Silver Court, the only one as tortured by fear as he. Too many in his court still thought in terms of
Seelie
versus
Unseelie
, of pain equalling power. Sorcha had been the one who caused pain in order to give
him
power. He wasn’t ready to give that up so soon.

After the joy of not only finding the stone of destiny, but using it to seal the rift in the Fade, being told of Sorcha’s illness was the ultimate anti-climax. What was the point in saving the realm if he was going to lose his kingdom?

The
daoine
sídhe
, Dymphna, rode behind him, the muscular brunette loyal in her concern. The messenger who had come to fetch him struggled to keep up. She quickly fell behind, her horse already exhausted from her search for her king.

Drake’s horse skidded on a patch of soiled earth. He could have sworn the land had grown even more blackened since the last time he had passed that way.

His sole consolation was that he had found the stone. The rift was sealed. His side of the job was done. But did he have a court left? Banshees didn’t fall ill… had Sorcha been poisoned? Attacked? The Silver Court was mysterious and secretive. It was likely his courtiers knew exactly what was wrong with Sorcha but hadn’t allowed the messenger to tell him in front of Cara. Without Drake there, Sorcha obviously hadn’t remained in control.

The twin castles rose up on the horizon. Two cliffs, two castles, and at one time, two queens. Twin sisters who had hated each other so much that they rarely met and conversed even less. They glared at each other, safe within the shelter of their castles, and waged a pathetic war using the weather as their weapons. Drake had born witness to their cruelty and foolishness during his vengeful search for his own father. Their people had suffered from the siblings’ hatred, the fertile lands had been neglected, and the soil itself had been irrevocably changed.

Since then, the land had been rapidly eaten by the blight, and the
fae
had been forced to turn to the human realm to feed themselves. He’d been encouraged to go to great lengths to cover that particular fact when it came to many members of his own court who disdained humans but appreciated the show of deceit.

When he and Sorcha had made a pact to marry, they had each taken a castle for their own. The Silver Court appeared destined to repeat the same suffering until a bridge had been built between the castles. Slowly, husband and wife had moved everything to the larger of the two castles, but there was still a distance that could never be crossed. He could never
love
Sorcha. And as it turned out, Cara, the mother of his only child, could never love him. He was cursed in every part of his life, fated to be miserable since the age of six when his faery father had murdered his human mother and taken him home to the realm of the
fae
.

As he neared the castle, he and Dymphna were greeted by a groom with fresh horses and water.

“Saw you coming,” she explained. “Looked like you were in a hurry.”

“What’s happening?” Drake panted.

The groom shrugged. “Nobody’s been told anything. The queen is locked in her chambers with some banshees and the
daoine
sídhe
. Nobody else is allowed in. It’s all quiet. The
leanan
sídhe
has been holding court.”

“Of course she has,” Dymphna said, a deep frown creasing her broad forehead.

Donella
was Cara’s ancestor—and Drake’s natural daughter’s ancestor—who desired power above all else. Her alliance with him gave him much, but he feared for his life because of her, too.

“It’s good to have our king back,” the groom said, one of the few subjects who were open in their loyalty to Drake. She had once known the terror of serving the
Seelie
Queen and thought him an improvement.

“We should hurry,” Dymphna said.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Drake said. “You must miss your daughter.”

“With every fibre of my being,” she admitted. “But
Eithne
is safe under Cara’s care. Scarlet is, too,” she said meaningfully. “When I know that you’re safe, I’ll leave again.”

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. He meant it. A
daoine
sídhe
favoured by the other courts gave him an advantage. As long as he managed to keep her on his side. If Sorcha died, he lost the banshees. If
Donella
left, she would take half the court with her, and if Dymphna abandoned him, the rest of the
daoine
sídhe
would likely follow. He had been playing a delicate game since his unlikely coronation—one that had primarily been a case of mistaken identity—and he wasn’t sure when, if ever, that would change.

On fresh horses, they galloped the rest of the way to the castle. A lone banshee stood by the front doors. Like Sorcha, her banshee sisters were all beautiful but sullen, and he knew they were only loyal to him for the sake of power. They had risen with him. They all had to stay on top to survive.

“Take me to my wife,” he called out as he dismounted and handed the reins to a groom. “I need to see the queen.”

The banshee beckoned him to follow.

“What happened?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“You’ll see,” she said cryptically.

Dymphna followed him up stairwells and along corridors, ignoring
fae
who bowed as they passed, but the banshee made her wait outside Sorcha’s quarters.

“I’ll be right here,” she told Drake.

He nodded and followed the banshee into his wife’s quarters. Closed shutters sealed the room from the rest of the world, and the rich tapestries that hung along the walls had dulled in the darkness. Incense burned in every corner, but it couldn’t hide the stuffy smell.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Tell me what’s going on!”

“
She
wants to tell you,” the banshee said dully.

She lit a candle and handed it to him. The shadows danced around her face, reminding him she was of Death. His stomach twisted with unease as he took the candle.

He reluctantly moved to the bed and held the candle over his wife’s form. He gasped in surprise. Sorcha’s cheeks were raised in a rash of spots and pimples. Her eyes were closed, cupped with dark bags. Her lips were dried and cracked. Her hair was greasy, of all things. His normally beautiful wife looked extremely sick, and for the first time, a true flash of concern for something other than a loss of power reached him.

“Sorcha?” he said softly. “Sorcha, are you all right?”

Her eyes fluttered open. Her black eyes were filled with apprehension, but when she recognised him, she smiled. He took a step back, for it was her eyes that reminded him what she had made him lose in exchange for his crown.

Her face fell, and he forced himself to sit on the bed. “What did they do to you?”

“Nothing.” She licked her lips. “Let us be alone.”

“Water!” he shouted. “Get her some fresh water. Now!” His temper flared, the pain blinding him as he shouted at the banshees to get out.

He turned back to Sorcha when the room had emptied, but his rush of anger hadn’t calmed.

She touched his cheek. “Red again,” she whispered. “We mustn’t let them see you like this, Drake.”

He made an effort to shrug off the weight of fealty and calm down, just as she had taught him. He hadn’t imagined the suffocation he would feel as king, the pressure and pain as powerful
fae
swore fealty to him. His skin seemed to stretch, almost as though the power would explode out of him, but his wife often assured him it was just his mind weakening, that he would grow strong enough to contain it all one day. Sorcha was the one who kept him sane when the darkness threatened to drown him.

He swallowed hard, pushing the panic to the back of his mind. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed. “It happened. We’re having a child. I’m… I’m giving you an heir.”

He gasped as though the breath had been knocked out of him. They rarely shared a bed beyond the nights he suffered most, when she comforted him and hid his weaknesses from the court. “Are you… sure?”

Her expression softened, which was somehow even more bizarre than her appearance. “
Yes
.”

“Then what is… this?” He gestured at her skeletal fingers. “They told me you were sick. You look ill, Sorcha.”

“This is what happens when a banshee is pregnant.” She tried to smile. “Don’t worry. When it’s over, this will end.”

“The baby is poisoning you?”

“Something like that. I’m just very tired. I’m sorry. I tried to take care of everything, but I—”

“It’s over. I’m back. You get rest and whatever else you need.” But fear had taken him. She looked as though she were dying. He wasn’t sure what he needed more: an heir or a queen.

“Did you do it?” she asked. “Did you use the stone of destiny?”

He nodded. “We did. It worked. The rift is sealed. The blight will surely end. And Brendan will bring back the First Tree and heal our soil. We’re winning, Sorcha.”

“He will,” she said firmly. “He’ll find it. He’ll bring it back. We’ll all be saved. You did it. You and Cara. I hated her, but she’s saved us so many times.”

“Hush. Don’t think about that now. Sleep.”

“Will you come back?” She sounded scared. “Will you visit me?”

“Of course.” He tried to smile, and then he got out of that room as quickly as possible.

***

In his own quarters, Drake washed, ate, and then sat on his bed and tried to figure out how he felt. He let a flame flare in his hand, a foolish waste of finite magic, but releasing the power made him feel in control of it, let him focus the pain on something other than himself. Sometimes, it made him feel less alone. This time, it just wasn’t enough.

He had a child with Cara, a beautiful child full of life whom he couldn’t love because it would put a target on her back. A child with a banshee, on the other hand… He imagined his child growing up as sullen and apathetic as the other banshees and shuddered. How could he have fathered a child of death?

He pressed his fist against his mouth. Nothing had turned out as he wished. Nothing would ever go his way. He was cursed as a child of
Deorad
, the son of a depraved monster. The Chaos Court was full of his blood, of half-siblings and other relatives who hid their father’s madness in their veins. Just like Drake. And yet his daughter appeared to be safer there than with him, he who needed a banshee to hide his inherited madness. What would Scarlet inherit?

I’ve been alone most of my life
. He sucked in a breath as the air grew thin.

I know nothing of being a father
. The skin on his fingers burned.

Cara told me I’d move on with Sorcha
. He flexed his fingers.

She doesn’t care anymore
. Pain shot up his arms as he formed his hands into fists.

She doesn’t love
—

His bedroom door burst open, startling him out of the episode.

Donella
sashayed into the room. “Well, look who it is.” Her eyes gleamed. “I couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes. You’re back.” She shut the door behind her. “You’ve heard the news, I take it. Your
wife
is expecting a child.”