28. Morning Glory

The next day, a humongous headache keeps me in bed for the entire morning until Baka brings in water and a special Fae medicine for hangovers. After dark, I finally summon enough motivation for a brisk walk, my usual routine forgotten.

The night is warm enough for me not to need a jacket, so I leave the thick uniform on the bench near the gym and head straight for the path weaving closest to the Hawthorn. I'm about fifteen minutes into my walk when I hear powerful footsteps up ahead.

The main path crosses the smaller trail around these parts, and I walk around the bend in time to see One running with his back to me.

"One! Wait!"

Ignoring my plea, he dashes toward the northern section of the gardens at the same strenuous pace, and I break into a run.

Up ahead, an arched trellis encroaches on the path on both sides, the hedges thick with flowers and leaves. The vines are so tightly knit in this section of the trail that they hide the night sky, and darkness swarms around me.

One slows down because of the narrower path, and it allows me to catch up to him.

I graze the flesh of his upper arm. "One, stop!"

The Fae screeches to a halt with his arm balanced on each side, the little rocks covering the path scattering in all directions. Three's iridescent mask is dark in the night, and his long hair is slicked back over his head, making him look too much like his brother. He checks both sides of the trail like he expects a nightmare to jump from the bushes before I feel the weight of his gaze on me.

His usual magnetism turns my belly to lava, and after what I saw last night… I can't breathe.

He motions to my navel, my chest, my face with one hand before making a downward motion and opening his palm. Are you okay?

I nod, bottom lip tucked between my lips, and his spine eases.

He removes two small white contraptions from his ears. High-pitched music blares from them, the harsh rhythm pounding like a wild animal in my ears despite the low volume, and I realize he truly didn't hear me chase or call after him.

"I'm sorry I startled you. I was looking for your brother," I admit quietly.

His shoulders hike up, his neck angled to the side as he scratches his breast bone. Am I that much of a disappointment? he seems to ask.

"You look like him in the dark." I hate the weak tremble in my voice, but there's no use denying it.

He gives a soft smile and a gentle nod. That makes sense.

An elusive grin ghosts over his lips, and he snaps a white, bell-shaped flower off the vines that snake around the trellis and offers it to me.

Taken aback, I murmur a quick, "Thank you." My gaze zeroes-in on the wispy scar over his heart.

Holy horses! That scar… Three brothers with the exact same scar, it's not natural.

Three combs a rebellious lock behind my ear and tips his chin down to his chest. You can see it, right?

I nod at the unspoken question. One seemed spooked that I could see the black wisp of smoke, but all I get coming from Three is a sense of quiet acceptance.

He wraps my hands in his and presses them to his chest, the gesture tender, but bold.

My breath stutters when he bends down to kiss me, but I retreat swiftly, pulling away from his grasp. "Well… Goodnight."

He holds both palms in front of him in a calming motion and digs his heels in the ground. Wait. I sink my nails in my palms not to spin around and run as he pinches his lips in a gesture of apology and shame. I'm sorry. He places a hand over his heart. Really.

The silent conversation sparks unfamiliar shivers inside me, not one of them unpleasant. He's terrifyingly similar to One, and between Three's shirtless state, my sexual frustration, and the soft morning glories grazing my arm…it's a recipe for disaster.

A hiccup shakes my throat. "I—I need to get to bed."

His shoulders sag, and he angles his beautifully haunting mask to the ground. Sorry to hear that.

I return to my room in a haze, still clutching the damn flower. When I get there, a velvet box with a note waits for me on my bed. I pry out the handwritten message from the ribbon and let out a nervous giggle.

Penelope… I apologize for my unspeakable behavior the night of your first trial. I wasn't myself. I had this made for you. It'll please me if you wear it.

-Damian

The beautiful calligraphy seems to move by itself on the page, but it's only tears blurring my vision. I click open the velvet box and swallow hard at the sight of the crescent-shaped pendant.

How appropriate.

I rub down my face and shake out the nerves. For whatever reason, the king has decided to court me. A knot forms in my stomach, and I'm not sure this gift is better than forcing me to strip. I'm still obligated to wear it and play by his rules.

I clasp it around my neck and toss Three's flower in the fire. Looking at myself in the mirror, I clutch the emerald. For better or worse, I've caught the king's eye. The golden chain suddenly feels like a noose around my neck, more obvious than a hot-iron brand on a horse's rump.

The stuffy daysof summer are officially behind us. Faerie is different from Demeter in that when the seasons change, they really change on the day—the weather doesn't go back and forth over the course of a few weeks.

After Foghar, the days shorten immediately, and the Hawthorn's ripe fruits and leaves adorn red, orange, and yellow colors overnight.

The next couple of weeks are spent in a cloud of sweat and tears as I dive deeper into the Dreaming with Two. The dark Fae is eager to take me through a hundred different, freakishly vivid dreams of all the people I know, making me despise most of my acquaintances.

Everyone's a beast, deep inside. When it comes down to it, all souls yearn for what they can't have.

"Two claims that I need the practice to become impervious to the enchantments that govern the Dreaming—but it feels like torture," I tell Lori over breakfast, the both of us sitting together on the balcony.

The day is particularly windy. The corner of the building protects us from most of the chilly draft as Lori nibbles on her croissant, huddled inside her hoodie with her legs propped beneath her.

"Don't worry, if he's got you running circles in the Dreaming at all hours of the day, it's because you're good," she says.

"I don't think so. He hates me."

The relentless schedule—pulling me out of bed at odd hours of the night, or keeping me awake for long stretches of time—might be enough for me to lose my mind if it goes on any longer.

Lori pats my hand in a reassuring way, peeking over the railing at Jo and James who are doing yoga together on the grass. "Two doesn't hate you. He just loves himself more." Her tongue darts out to touch her bottom lip, her cheeks rosy in the autumn chill as she adds absentmindedly, "I'm telling you. The triplets ride their best students the hardest."

I blush at the sexual connotation, and Lori's eyes bulge as she leans forward in her seat. "Shit! I didn't mean it like that, I just?—"

"I know. Any sightings of One? Or Mara?"

The two of them haven't been seen since Foghar, and I can't quite quell my jealousy at the thought that One is giving her very private hunting lessons somewhere off-world.

"No, and the High Fae haven't visited since the harvest celebration, either. I swear…it's like they've been banned from the library altogether. I'm bored out of my mind." She rolls her neck back and forth against the headrest of her chair.

I miss One. I miss our quarrels and the way he gets under my skin. I keep thinking about Foghar, and the way he rushed me to bed. The look on his face when I begged him to kiss me lives in my soul, and I can't help but wonder how differently he might have acted if he'd believed I was in my right mind.

"Have you heard from the king? Since, you know…" Lori motions in the general direction of my chest, the emerald pendant still locked around my neck.

"Not at all."

Jo approaches us from the side. "Hey, Nell. Lori." He pats off his sweaty face with a towel, naked from the waist up like he's not at all bothered by the wind. "Here's the book you asked for. I'm sorry it took so long," he says with a wince as he hands it over, the real cover masked by a different dust jacket.

Ever since the king staked his claim at the ball, the men in the group have given me a wide berth, and I'm surprised to be back in Jo's good graces.

"Err—thanks."

I pretend to read the fake dust jacket, and Lori snorts. "Oh, come on. Do you think I'm too dumb not to notice that you've brought her a book she isn't supposed to have access to yet?" We both stare at her for a moment, and she rolls her eyes. "I'm not an idiot, guys."

"Sorry," I say quickly.

She stands up and gathers her things. "Hey, I don't want to know any more. There is no way I will spend the next quarter on library duty again. Uh-uh."

"How did you get stuck on library duty, anyway?" Jo asks, and I clench my teeth, remembering how torn up Lori looked the last time we broached the subject.

"Nope. Still not answering that question." She shakes her head forcefully and walks away from our contraband book club.

Jo doesn't seem in a hurry to leave, which I take as a good sign. "One is back." He shrugs on a black t-shirt before taking Lori's empty seat. "I saw him last night."

My eyes bulge, my spine suddenly straight as a bolt. "And Mara?"

The light in his eyes dims, and he inches closer. "When I saw One was back, alone, I asked Two about her. Mara is gone, Nell. She washed out of training two weeks ago." He pauses, hesitating. "Since there's only three seeds this year, the king decided not to broadcast it too publicly, so keep it to yourself, please. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about it."

The quasi-continuous strain I've endured in my ribs the last two weeks eases at the knowledge that One and Mara are not together, after all.

Jo moves to stand up, but I grip his arm to stop his retreat. "Wait a minute. Could it explain why the king closed the library?"

"Probably. To have a seed wash out before Morheim…it's going to worry the High Fae."

"So it's not about me and the dance?"

He relaxes in his seat, beaming. "You're in the clear, milady."

All the tension I've been carrying around drains from my body, my breaths coming more freely than they have in days. The High Fae ban is not about me, and the king hasn't shown his face once in the last thirteen days, so maybe after my next trip to Demeter, everything can go back to normal.

I observe Jo from underneath my lashes, suddenly feeling much better. "You look…wary."

"Truth is; I'm worried about our future. The king's magic has grown weak, and Morheim is coming soon. Our tepid hunts won't be enough to keep his court happy. The Sombras' influence dwindles with every passing season, and the talk in Fanstamagorie is that a formal challenge could be issued to the king. If they find out that he can't even keep the few seeds he has, he might have to abdicate."

My heart fanfares. "Abdicate? But who would replace him?"

He thinks for a moment, his eyes half-mast. "Another High Fae, I guess."

"And what would happen to his knights? To us?"

What would it mean for me and the bet? If the Shadow King was overthrown, would it nullify our deal? Or would his successor inherit my fealty, along with his magic?

Worst thing is… I'm not sure which possibility scares me the most.

"One would die before he swore fealty to a new king. Two's a wildcard, and Three only cares about fucking beautiful girls—" Jo says.

A fiery blush sears my cheeks, and my gaze flies to the ground between us.

He offers me a sheepish grimace. "Christ—I offended you."

"It's okay." I shake off the hot line of embarrassment, but the slight shred of hope from earlier burns and dies in my chest. If Damian is about to lose his throne, then it means that he's even more motivated to trick me into losing the bet. "Thank you for the book. I'm going to check on Lori."

I excuse myself and build a fort in the library, reading through Jo's book for the entire day, desperate to find a clue as to how courting me could help the king keep his crown.

Damian the Dauntless: the Rise of our Dark Sovereignis the second-floor book I coveted for weeks when I first arrived. It's a fluff piece about the king's exploits, detailing his rise to power through sheer force of will, incredible cleverness, and some ill-advised choices. It's written in a boisterous style, and I find it impossible to reconcile its depiction of the Shadow King with the stoic, elusive monarch I've met.

Historians always exaggerate the virtue of their current rulers while minimizing their faults, but this book is just…wrong.

"You look ready to pull your hair out," Lori says over my shoulder. "Wait a minute…is that the book Jo lent you? It's nonsense."

I unclench my fist and let it fall to the table, my heart in my throat. "I agree. The Damian in this book is ruthless and clever, yes, but he's also lively, arrogant, audacious—not at all like the Damian we know."

My best friend shrugs. "I guess even the Shadow King was young once."

"Or something so terrible happened that he became a totally different person." I lower my voice, barely able to admit my number one fear. "What if he needs to court me…to boost his magic?"

If Jo is right, then the Shadow King didn't send the necklace to mess with me. For whatever reason, he needs to win the bet soon, and courting me must be part of that.

"No, he could easily take our magic if he wanted… Oh!" Lori's face wrinkles in a deep cringe. "Would marrying you make him win that bet he made with your dad? He'd get your magic, then, too. And maybe even your kingdom?"

My blood runs cold at the thought. "Wait. That's insane." Marriage? I can't even?—

"I'm probably wrong," she adds quickly, but the damage is done. Her dubious hypothesis struck a chord.

"If he truly wants to win my affections, why does he stay in the shadows, barely taking the time to get to know me at all?"

Lori ties her hair on top of her head in a messy bun, and the string of earrings decorating the shell of her ear gleam under the light of the chandeliers. "I'm sorry to say this, but if the Shadow King wants to marry you for your magic, I don't see how you could change his mind."

I shake my head, willing my brain—and my damn pulse—to slow down. "What is he going to do? Knock me over the head and drag me to the altar?"

"Don't joke about that," Lori says quickly. "Fae marry almost exclusively for power, and they have crazy wedding rituals. Most dark Fae believe that a union celebrated under the first Morheim moon is twice as potent. A marriage announcement could boost the king's magic enough to discourage a formal challenge."

"And then, he wouldn't have to abdicate," I say, slowly putting two and two together. "But Morheim is only a few weeks away. Since consummation is such an important part of Fae weddings, he'd need my consent!"

Lori paces the room back and forth, and I realize this is no longer a crazy brainstorm session. This could be real.

"You'd probably be all for it with the right enchantment," she adds.

I press my lips together in a hard line. Does that count as consent, in this wicked world?

"He can't," I say loudly, more for my own benefit than Lori's.

She covers my hand with hers, the graveness of the situation clouding her gray eyes. "Don't worry. I won't let him. If he plans on marrying you against your will, it'll be over my dead body, Old World."

A heavy sigh quakes my lungs. I know I've got a true friend in Lori, but I can't fool myself. We've all sworn an oath to the Shadow King, and if he does claim me as his bride, the others will let him have me. Even One.

That's why he's been so distant. No one can stop the Shadow King, and when he comes for my magic, One will step aside and let him have it.

"I bet he thinks I'll agree to marry him not to lose my magic. That gives him consent. And he wins the bet." My mind is ablaze, but something's not adding up. I feel it in my bones. "Crops! I need to research a way out, but I've got to go home."

Two weeks lost, when there's only so many days left before the Shadow King comes for his due. I need more time to train and figure this all out.

"When do you leave?" Lori asks.

"Tomorrow."

And for the first time, I really, really wish I didn't have to go, which scares me more than all the wild conjectures and conspiracy theories my brain is currently weaving about the Shadow King.

Given the choice between my old life—without magic—and marrying the king, I'd have to leave Faerie forever. But the answer is certainly not as clear-cut as it used to be.