37. Elori

Chapter 37

Elori

LORI

I nk glimmers over the skin of my lower arm, the Fae runes meant to take me home a little blotchy because of my shaky hands. My mask is firmly planted over my eyes and prevents me from wiping off the cluster of dried, salty tears stuck in my eyelashes.

The frosty sting of the sceawere barely registers as I step out of the mirror. My entire body is numb after my conversation with Elio. The secret, half-formed hopes I'd begun to nurture are gone, and the hole left in their place created a raw ache in my ribcage.

The bite in my side sends a fresh flare of pain through my body as I walk to the desk in the middle of the Shadow Court's library.

This is where I belong, I tell myself, but the beauty of yellow, red, and teal hues streaming through the stained medallion window pales in comparison to the glittering lights of the ice gardens. The prospect of advising the High Fae on their next read and enduring their relentless gossip dulls my brain.

The only silver lining to my defeat is that I'll see Nell again, but I'm not ready to face my best friend. I not only failed to capture the wicked woman who almost killed us both, but also lost myself in the process.

The apple in my pocket could heal the venom that has been polluting my body, and yet I have no real intention to eat it. Blood fills my ears as her familiar head of white-blonde hair peers between the stacks.

"Lori! You're home!"

By Morpheus…

Nell is wearing her Shadow huntress uniform—a form-fitting black jacket and pants with knee-high boots, identical to what I'm wearing—but an entirely new aura of darkness slithers around her.

"You're…" I kneel in front of her out of instinct, the magic inside me bowing to the power that now drums in her veins. "My Queen."

"What are you— Get up!" Her entire face flushes with a deep shade of red at my allegiant impulse.

I chuckle and pull her into a hug. "Enjoy it, Old World. Royalty suits you. Truly."

"Oh, Lori! What are you doing here?" Cece shouts from the second floor. The Lil' Bit descends the stairs two at a time and races across the room to join the huddle, her long brown mane flying behind her.

But instead of celebrating my return, she pinches my arm. "Don't tell me you accepted this ridiculous disqualification?—"

I shake off the sting of pain. "Erm… What?"

"Marrying Daisy is the worst idea in history. You could see on his face that he didn't want to do it," Cece says with a scowl. "I still can't believe Wendy was a spy. I bet she's the one who tried to drown you."

My eyes bulge, Cece's nails now digging deep into the flesh of my arm. "Wait…" I look between the two women. "Have you been watching the pageant?"

"Of course! Nell was on the fence for a while, but I've been rooting for Elori since day one," Cece declares.

"Elori?"

Her hazelnut eyes sparkle. "It's your couple name."

"My what?"

Nell's lips twist in a sheepish grin, like we're not having the weirdest conversation in the history of time. "Royals are allowed to watch the feeds, and even though no one knows about me, yet, I asked Baka to install a television in Damian's room—my room. I can't believe you've been watching television your whole life, it's absolutely enchanting!"

"You've been watching the pageant," I repeat, flabbergasted. I'd rehearsed a half-assed explanation on my way back, expecting to give Nell and Cece the cliff notes of what had happened back in Wintermere, but I never expected this.

Cece boosts herself up on the desk, her legs dangling from the edge. "Is Elio as gorgeous in person? What did it feel like to kiss him like that? What happened between you two off screen?"

"Cece! Give the woman some space." Nell scolds her sister with a take it down a notch motion.

"I—I need to lie down," I say, moving to the back of the room and settling into Nell's usual reading nook. My friend follows at a distance. "So… you've seen it all."

"All that was broadcasted."

I stare at the ceiling for a moment, hands braced over my stomach. "The dunk tank?"

"Yes."

"The kiss?"

"That, too."

"The kiss was the best part!" Cece chimes from afar.

I sit up with wide eyes. "You should know I had no idea I was wearing Iris's actual wedding dress at the ball."

"That's what we thought." Nell grips my hand. "Oh, Lori, I'm so glad to see you in person. When the feeds cut after you disappeared in the avalanche, I sent Damian to Wintermere, but Sarafina assured him that you were okay. How is the bite? Has it finished healing?"

Her healer gaze falls to my side, and the knee-jerk reaction to lie and ease her worries grips me. "Yes. All better now."

"What about Elio? Is he really going to marry someone else?"

"Yeah…"

"And is that…what you wanted?"

I press a pillow over my face for a long minute before a squeaky, "No," whistles out.

Nell peels the pillow away from my flustered face. "Crops! Cece was right! You're in love with him."

"Told you so!" Cece beams as she joins us in the secluded hideout.

My arms slice through the air in an emphatic gesture of denial. "No nononono. No!"

Nell gives me one of her most patient smiles. "Lori… I've never seen that look on your face."

I jolt to my feet and run away from her laser-like gaze, the Shadow Queen clearly using some dark mojo to pry the truth out of me. "No! That ice prick chose to marry someone else. As far as I'm concerned, he can choke on his damn curse and bring his entire kingdom down with him."

Cece tilts her chin up, giving me her best haughty princess glare. "He chose someone else to protect you ."

"How do you know?"

"His wives all die before spring, right? It makes sense," she huffs.

"How does any of it make sense? How do you know he doesn't just kill his wives?"

Cece shakes her head like she finds me irritating and unreasonable. "Why would he willingly put himself through this every year? Nell and I figured he was cursed or something."

I raise a brow at her sister.

Nell's chest heaves in commiseration. "Moody, tortured kings can be incredibly stubborn. And stupid."

"Yeah, they are," I grumble.

The new Shadow Queen takes a measured pause. "The only real question is… Are you willing to fight for him?"

My mind reels at the implications. "Aren't you going to say I'm insane for falling for a man I've known for only a few days? That maybe I've been hit by a love arrow or a spell that stole my good judgment?

Her face crumples into a million lines. "Were you?"

"Not that I know of, but this conversation"—I gesture back and forth between the three of us—"is crazy . You're supposed to tell me to be careful and think this through. Talk me down from the ledge."

She holds up her hand in a halting motion. "Don't bother with what anyone else thinks. Trust your gut. What does it tell you?"

I grit my teeth together. "Nell!"

"Lori!" She imitates my angry voice and holds my gaze, her lips pressed together to suppress a laugh.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck!" I rake my fingers through my hair. "What am I supposed to do? Rush over there and beg him to marry me?"

"Maybe."

"He was so adamant that I should try and be happy without him. That all the Fae royals were in danger because of this coming war…"

A flash of worry shines in Nell's gaze. "Damian has been extra-broody since he learned about the Tidecallers. I bet that he would have sent me away, too, if we weren't already married," she grumbles.

"The man I stabbed—I call him the Gray Man—he wants Elio's magic."

The air inside the library suddenly booms with power, and the shadows around Nell skitter along her skin, the dark tendrils vibrating with excitement. I stretch my neck to glance past the corner of the stacks in time to spot Damian marching toward us with his long bow propped at his back.

The magic he collected during his latest hunt still pulses through his body. "Lori. You're back."

"Hey, boss…" I greet him. "What happens when a Fae king dies?"

The Shadow King places his weapon on the nearest table and walks over to kiss his wife. "When a King or Queen passes on, their crown—the magic that allowed them to rule—returns to the Hawthorn. I'm speaking only of a true ruler of Faerie, not their spouses. Spouses merely share in the magic; it doesn't belong to them." He glances at Nell for a moment. "A consort loses their powers once the true king or queen dies."

I nod, already aware of that asterisk. "And what would have happened, specifically, if Elio had died so close to the solstice?"

"A successor would have been marked by the gods as their preferred candidate to take his place. Each god is different, but Morpheus and Thanatos are actually more similar than not in this respect. They mostly care about raw power and strength of character when choosing their next heirs, so they're not easily swayed by bloodlines or politics."

Nell wrinkles her nose. "So the gods get to choose the next king or queen?"

"I'm not done. After the chosen of the gods is marked upon a monarch's death, he must drink from the Eternal Chalice to be anointed. If the other royals refuse him access to the Chalice and question his legitimacy, challengers have ten days to vie for the crown—typically engaging in a fight to the death or some other ridiculously violent task—and the winner of that challenge is crowned king."

"Or queen," Nell corrects him, and Damian nods in assent.

"Is that what happened with you? Did you challenge the chosen heir?" I ask.

Damian skims the tattoos snaking behind his ear. "Actually, I was the one who got challenged."

Nell caresses his upper arm in a soothing motion. "So it's not as easy as killing a king to steal his crown?"

"Most royals pretend that they want to uphold the will of the gods, but kingdoms can be stolen. A monarch deemed too weak to ensure his kingdom's safety or too dangerous to remain in power can be dethroned by the others. If a pretender is strong enough to kill a king after he's anointed, he's often perceived as worthy to succeed him. If Elio had died so close to the solstice, they would either have had to rush the challenge period or accept his heir apparent without questions, so replacing him would have been messy, to say the least."

I give them a quick recount of my encounter with the Gray Man and explain how he might have used Elio's magic to fool the public and taken his place upon the Winter throne.

"If the Gray Man wanted to take Elio's place, he never intended to become king. He merely wanted the souls to amplify his magic, and the aborted winter solstice ritual would have plunged the continent into chaos. But if he is as formidable as you say, he's not going to give up—" Damian's eyes darken. "We have a visitor." He slips out of the library's front door and returns a minute later with Seth in tow.

My mouth dries up. "Seth…"

After the terrible way the broadcast ended, I couldn't bear to face him.

"Looking good, Nell," Seth greets the Shadow Queen before his gaze finds me. "Lori… I managed for your brother's sentence to be reduced to life imprisonment. It's the best I could do for now." His lips curl down, his disappointment palpable. "There's a chance for you to speak to him, but it has to be now. He's being transferred to Murkwood Prison in a few hours."

The shadows draped over Damian's shoulders swell, and my spine stiffens. Murkwood Prison, as in the Summer stronghold from which no one has ever escaped, ruled over by dark forces that rival the worst nightmares in the Shadowlands.