Seven Black Diamonds (5 page)

On the outside of the tower was another staircase, this one minded by guards. The visitors’ staircase was to be used by everyone other than the royal parents, any siblings, and her betrothed when there was one. Those few fae could walk on the spiral staircase inside the glass tower.

“I’ll meet you at the—”

“No.” She turned away and began ascending the steps as she added, “You shouldn’t visit so much now that you’re seeking a bride. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Proper?” Torquil’s voice was as cold as she’d ever heard it. “You’re lecturing
me
on propriety?”

Eilidh’s temper flared, not as brightly as her mother’s did but enough that she was forcefully reminded of her
parentage. She wasn’t surprised. He
was
fae, after all, but he’d been her only true friend in this world. That earned him a fair warning. Softly but steadily, she told him, “I’ve been the queen’s daughter, surrounded by machinations my whole life, while you were out being free. Don’t try to challenge me.”

“You sound very Unseelie right now, Patches,” he charged.

He stared at her as she stood halfway between one step and the next. In that moment, she thought that this was good-bye, that her dearest friend was about to be lost to her forever. That would’ve hurt, but not as much as what he next did: Torquil started up the spiral staircase.

“I’ve decided not to wait, after all,” he said. “I’ve made my choice.”

He strode up after her, and she wanted to run—or perhaps shove him backward.

Behind her, behind him, there were gasps. No one could have heard his words, but his actions spoke like a declaration. Only the royal parents, siblings, or her intended could walk up those stairs.

He was
not
her family.

“Back up,” Eilidh said desperately. She spun so she was facing him. “This isn’t funny. Go back! Go back
now
.”

“No.” He continued up the stairs, stalking after her. “The queen said I could chose anyone.
Any
one.”

“She didn’t mean me! I’m not agreeing to this. Stop it this instant, Torquil.”

He laughed. “And when has a princess been allowed to select her own groom?” He was on the step next to hers. There, in front of her, he kneeled and stared up at her. “Shall I tell the queen or would you like the honor of letting her know that we are betrothed?”

Eilidh swallowed hard. Words wouldn’t come. She looked away from him, staring through the walls of her tower at the growing number of faeries clustering around the building. They stared at her, as they often did, but this time she saw surprise, envy, and anger in their expressions.

“What have you done to me? To us?” she whispered. “What have you
done
, Torquil?”

ZEPHYR

The semester was starting finally, and Zephyr’s team would all be back on campus. When Zephyr arrived at his suite, he found a not surprising note that both his suitemate and his best friend had already left for a bar, so he dropped his bags and headed into town.

Belfoure was an overcrowded maze of streets and shops. It was one of the strongest cities on the Eastern seaboard. Crime there was at a record low, and the pollution levels were among the lowest in the country. Generous donations from the families of St. Columba’s students no doubt kept it that way. The school was home to children from some of the wealthiest families in the world, those who graced the pages of magazines or screens because of their own talents . . . or, as in his case, because of a parent’s talents.

“Waters! Hey, Zephyr!” a salesman called out as Zephyr
paused to wait for the traffic light.

This was it, the start of the future he’d been waiting for. He’d trained, and he’d readied himself, studying essays and treatises, paying attention to politics and laws of the Hidden Lands. All the while, he’d concealed those habits from all but his closest friends and become the person that best fit his role in the human world: spoiled, sardonic son of film legends.

Tonight he was going to see his friends, pretend to drink heavily, and flirt outrageously. He’d either leave with a girl whose name he didn’t bother to learn or he’d cuddle up to his best friend, Alkamy. He would, in essence, be the person that he was assigned to embody as his cover—and he’d enjoy it. That was the trick to the game: enjoying the lie you lived, finding the pleasure in it. Zephyr enjoyed a lot of it.

The bouncer at the front of the Row House didn’t even blink when Zephyr skipped the line. When school was in session, he was a fixture here. There were still a few regions where a drinking age was set, but the majority of the continent had eliminated that law well before Zephyr was born. That didn’t mean that he
ingested
poison, but he’d learned young how to pretend. It was a part of the role he lived, part of how he hid his true genetics. The fae-blood, those with any portion of fae ancestry, couldn’t drink alcohol without being weakened by it. Zephyr had never consumed more than the one glass of it he’d been ordered to drink to get a sense of the way it hurt. That was enough.

He couldn’t understand why Creed drank—or how he endured it.

Shaking away thoughts that would lead to a fight once he saw Creed, Zephyr paused so a cute girl could snap a picture of him. It wouldn’t be useful to go to the club without being
seen
doing it. The headmistress at St. Columba’s didn’t comment on the plethora of photos that cropped up online or in magazines
proving
that Zephyr routinely ignored the rules about leaving campus. Headmistress Cuthbert was a fan of minimal conflict and maximum donations. Neither Zephyr nor his teammates—Alkamy Adams, Creed Morrison, Violet Lamb, or Roan Kenrick—ever caught hell for flaunting the rules. Not surprisingly, the four of them were often in the same pictures with Zephyr. It was only their friend Will Parrish who stayed clear of the club and the cameras.

As he made his way toward the velvet rope, Zephyr scanned the crowd for interesting faces. Finding no one extraordinary, he reached his goal: the VIP section where he knew he’d find at least one of his friends.

The bouncer at the rope nodded at Zephyr, but no conversation was needed. Being the oft-photographed Zephyr Waters was a good thing.

Alkamy and Creed both lounged in plush chairs, seeming exceedingly polished and wholly jaded. If he didn’t know better, he’d believe they were both nothing more than the budding addicts they appeared to be.

“Kamy.” He leaned down to kiss Alkamy, but she turned
her head so his lips barely glanced off her cheek.

“Watch the face!” She pouted with the perfect mix of woe-is-me and aren’t-I-lovely. She
was
actually stunning. Her hair was a shade of black that made everyone assume it was dyed. It wasn’t. Nor did she wear colored contacts to get barely blue eyes. Her lips were naturally as ruby-red as they seemed, and her skin was so pale that she was luminescent in the dark. Alkamy was a living vision of a gloomier Snow White.

He straightened and murmured, “Yes, dear.”

Her smile transformed briefly into something genuine, and he matched it with one of his own. She might look icy, but she was sweet to him. In another life, they might’ve ended up something more, but in this life, any feelings were steadfastly buried. Even if Lilywhite
wasn’t
his future, Zephyr couldn’t let his feelings for Alkamy go in
that
direction. She looked so similar to him that he’d wondered if they were siblings in truth. That fear was reason enough to keep her at a safe distance. If he allowed himself to fall in love with her, he wouldn’t be able to let her go no matter what the queen decreed. More importantly, Alkamy wasn’t the sort to accept being told she
couldn’t
do something. Far wiser to stay friends, to keep a wall around those feelings, and plan for a future with Lilywhite.

Alkamy flashed another real smile at him as she took in his appearance. “You look perfect, as always.”

Creed snorted.

Zephyr dropped into one of the plush chairs, intention
ally drawing eyes to him. The Row House was all about being seen. The club made no apology for it. The VIP section was demarcated by a scarlet and gold rope, but it was in the center of the club. There was a back wall that was shadowed if one wanted privacy, but the front of the room was open, and the left and right sides were clear glass. Being here was being on display—and that meant strict admission rules. Unlike some places where anyone with a generous budget for the night could get access, the Row House was old-school: invitation or status were the only ways to cross the line.

Being in the VIP section required looking like you were meant to be watched. They acted like it, and they dressed for it. Alkamy was wearing some sort of dress that appeared to be mostly transparent. Wide red straps covered her body in strategic places, but the rest of the dress revealed skin. In the hazy blue lights of the club, she looked otherworldly—but safely so. Creed, on the other hand, seemed to have put zero effort into his appearance. Artfully faded jeans, a T-shirt for some band, and heavy boots marked him as just another teen boy—except everything he wore was designer label and the jewelry that he’d added was undoubtedly worth more than most cars on the streets of Belfoure.

Creed’s shaved head, visible tattoos, and dark complexion made him far too likely to be hassled out in town, but by now, all of the lawkeepers were well aware of who he was and exactly how much of a fire storm they’d be in if he got wrongly arrested because of their overzealous racial
profiling. Whether they thought he was African American or Seelie, he’d be a target because of his heritage. Of course, Zephyr had thought more than once that Creed
hoped
for a wrongful arrest. He thrived on conflict, far more than even Alkamy or Violet.

Pushing away thoughts that would lead to yet another argument, Zephyr motioned to one of the waitresses who usually looked after their needs.

When the girl came over, she already had the drink that Zephyr preferred—an alcohol- and caffeine-free concoction of fruit juices. He covered for his toxin-free drinks by paying the waitresses for their silence. He’d never once been drunk, and if he had his way, he never would.

“Yes, it’s organic,” the girl answered before he could ask.

Then she handed drinks to both Creed and Alkamy without comment. They didn’t need to
pretend
to drink alcohol. Zephyr could smell it from across the table as they accepted their glasses.

“Don’t start,” Alkamy murmured. Her drink was as brightly colored as his, undoubtedly made of the same organic juice. Hers, however, had vodka in it too.

Creed said nothing. Even if Zephyr had commented, Creed wouldn’t back down in arguments about his lifestyle. Someday soon, they’d have to have that fight. The alternative was letting the Unseelie Queen know that Creed was a liability. For now, Creed lifted his glass in a mocking toast to Zephyr and downed half of it in one go. He caught the waitress’s hand and said, “Another. I’ll be
ready for it before you’re back.”

Once she was gone, the three friends resumed pretending that they weren’t being watched like animals in a zoo. These sorts of clubs had perks, usually in the form of pretty, willing humans for a few moments of distraction.

“Which one caught your eye?” Alkamy asked drolly, making him realize he was staring.

Zephyr shrugged.

“Does it matter?” Creed asked, stretching his long legs out and slouching farther into his chair. “They’re interchangeable.” He started pointing at girls. “Ena, mena, mona, mite, which one will bite?”

Zephyr scowled. “Don’t be crass.”

Creed, as per usual, ignored him. He motioned a passing waitress over and said, “The girl in the aqua top. Tell her to meet me at the rope in”—he glanced at his watch—“
exactly
eighteen minutes.”

The waitress verified that they were describing the same girl, and then she left with his message.

“Really?” Alkamy asked.

He shrugged.

“You could slow down. Pretend to be with Kamy for a while,” Zephyr suggested.

“Is that an order?”

“No.”

Creed nodded. “Then go ahead and update us. I have an appearance to keep.”

“Lilywhite will be here tomorrow.” Zephyr paused to
let them marvel at the pending change, but Creed simply nodded and Alkamy waited silently.

“This is
it
,” Zephyr continued, trying to impress upon them the significance of her arrival. “The start of a new stage of our lives. She is the beginning of . . . everything.”

“Right, then.” Creed lifted his glass, drained it, and held it out to the waitress who’d returned with his drink. “Let’s drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.”

Alkamy winced. “Creed—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted her. “Just fucking
don’t
, Kam.” He wrapped a hand around his new drink and walked away.

Zephyr watched him go. “Has something happened? He seems worse than usual.”

Alkamy lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. She sipped her fruity drink and watched Creed, who was chatting up two girls at the bar. One of them shrieked in laughter, and the other pressed up against him. Typical. Even from here, though, anyone could see that there was something false in Creed’s smiles.

“They were in some film Vi dragged me to see,” Alkamy offered, as if Creed’s choice of girls mattered at all.

When Zephyr didn’t reply, she continued, “Flash in the pan, pretty things, no talent.” She wasn’t being vicious, merely echoing whatever Violet had told her. “They seem fun though.”

“Creed could do with less fun.”

“Not everyone is as sure as you,” Alkamy said gently. “Lilywhite is
your
intended. We don’t know if we mattered
enough for
them
to even plan a future for us.”

Zephyr turned his attention away from Creed and focused on his best friend. She didn’t say “fae” ever if she could avoid it. It was what she was, what all the Sleepers were, but she never said it aloud, as if silence would change reality. She’d only been with him in the Hidden Lands once, but it hadn’t erased her discomfort.

“Us. We are the same as
them.
”

“No, we’re not,” she said.

“I’d never let anything happen to you,” he promised her yet again. No one else understood him the way she did. Alkamy felt like his other half. He met her eyes. “
Ever
. I’d die before I’d let you get hurt.”

Alkamy sighed. “You’ll die for the queen’s cause; you’ll die for me . . . Maybe you should try finding something or someone to
live
for instead.”

“Is it so wrong to have a purpose?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she asked, “Did you see my new shoes?” She kicked her foot out so he was forced to catch her ankle in his hand or get a pointy-toed shoe in the face.

Silently, he slid the shoe off her foot, set it on the table, and gave her a foot rub. He was used to her not-so-subtle changes of subject, and it made for good pictures. No one needed to know that he and Alkamy were destined for a platonic relationship. That was one of the many secrets they hid—and most were far more deadly.