39. Four of a Kind

One laces our fingers as he pulls me inside the mirror, and my heart burns. He guides me through the sceawere and presses the runes on his lower arm. The foggy glass immediately clears, and I step out of the mirror with a snowflake stuck to my cheek.

"Here we are. The king's bedroom," One says, and the muted fear filling the cracks of his low voice spells trouble.

His resigned pout makes my pulse run wild, and I search the empty space for an explanation. A large bed is left unmade in the center of the room, the covers twisted in knots like the king's nightmares followed him home.

A pile of black clothes folded by the fire.

A feather laid over an unfinished letter.

A thick golden mask discarded on the bedside table…

I sense nothing out of the ordinary, and if it wasn't for the full-face mask, I'd think One was stalling.

The door leading to the balcony is left ajar. Cold night air billows inside the room, and I step outside to get a grip on my nerves. The third-floor balcony has always been a mystery—no stairs leading in or out of it. A forsaken place belonging to the monster responsible for my troubles and accessible only through the sceawere.

The cold breeze curls around my shoulders, and thick clouds obscure the moon. "Where is the Shadow King?" I whisper.

One fiddles with a crank at the bottom of a star-shaped music box and sets it down to the floor. "Dance with me." He offers me his hand, and I take it without hesitation.

His mask is gone. His gold irises are almost black in the night as he pulls me to the center of the balcony, and we start to waltz together. Music seeps through the air, and it's the same mournful melody I danced with the king. The same tune. The same pace. The same confident hand at my waist…

"Say my name, kitten."

"I—One."

"My real name." He twirls me around, our hands raised into the air, and I curtsy out of habit.

As we come to a halt, my heart hammers. "I don't know your name."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "I think you know. I think you've known for a while."

I close my lids for a moment. Is he saying?—

When the truth hurts too much, or scares you senseless, you bury it. You dig a grave deep enough to conceal it with rubble of denial. I've shoveled quite a bit of monstrous truths over the years.

My father's a cruel drunk, and a cowardly king.

Back when my mother was alive, she let him beat her.

Demeter is a wretched place to live. The entire religious system that praises good over evil—all the while denying us the chance to look at ourselves in the mirror—is a lie.

In my defense, One's true name hadn't been obvious from the start. He's a master at deflection. The signs had been piling up—especially the last few days—but I'd buried them all.

"Say my name," he asks again, his lips inches from mine. "Say it with disgust if you have to, but I need to hear it from your lips."

Hot tears roll down my cheeks. "Damian."

He closes his eyes in a mix of awe and gratitude before opening them again. "I love you, kitten."

My clenched fists collide with his chest. "I didn't know—I hoped it wasn't true."

A destructive wave of anger topples me over, and the undertow of his revelation pulls me under. Drowning me.

It makes so much sense now. One was stronger than the absentee king. It didn't add up, but I couldn't bring myself?—

A sob bubbles up my lungs. "I wanted to believe you wouldn't have lied to me for so long."

If One is the king, then everything he's ever said to me was tainted. Everything I feel for him is based on a lie. For the longest time, I thought he was holding me at arm's length to please the king. I worried about being forced into bed or into marriage…

"You tricked me!" I punch his chest, but he holds me closer to his torso to keep me from hitting him again.

"I'm sorry, kitten. I had to protect my secret."

"You pretended to be someone else to gain my trust. You and your brothers. You each take turns playing the role of king, but it's really you, isn't it? You're the one who made the deal with my father."

"Yes." He holds me tighter, my body trapped between the hard planes of his chest and his unforgiving grip.

How could I believe our love was real? He's the reason I'm here. The reason Cece and I are separated. The reason I can't bear the thought of going home?—

"I'm dying, kitten. We all are."

The certainty in his tone steals my ire, and I shake my head. "No."

A soft breath ghosts over my lips. "Our magic is dwindling, and despite the hope I nurtured the last couple of days, the curse still holds strong. But the others are not pretending to be the king."

"How can you say they're not pretending? If you are the king," I breathe.

I'm so desperate to understand why.

His face darkens, and I know what comes next will change my life forever. "I set up this charade to protect myself and my kingdom from the vultures that circle us. When the other monarchs or the High Fae learn how broken I truly am, I will not last a day."

I tilt my head to the side, trying—and failing—to see the entire puzzle. "What do you mean? What charade?"

"I was so busy dealing with the other royals, the High Fae, the people. I had to hunt nightmares, protect the Dreaming, and keep fantasies from spiraling out of control… There weren"t enough hours in a day to do it all perfectly. I didn't have time for lovers or friends—or even family." His chest deflates, and he turns away. "And so I fractured myself in different aspects of my personality—parts that would think independently and carry out the daily chores—while a fourth piece would be free to stay here and enjoy life." He rubs down his face with a dry snort. "It was selfish and stupid, of course."

"So, you're all—" My hand reaches out to brush his shoulder.

The golden chasm in his eyes burns with shame. "We're all a fraction of Damian, but Damian is dead."

He marches back inside, and I follow quickly on his heels. "No! I don't believe that."

"I need to show you something." He opens a hidden door in the tapestry.

The adjoining room is darker, and I tip-toe inside to see better. A handful of torches flicker to life along the walls. In the middle of a glass prison, a terrible version of Damian lies in tatters, and I cover my mouth with both hands.

"Nell. Meet Four."

Black hair grows over his skull in uneven patches like he tears a handful of roots from his scalp at random every once in a while. The untrimmed beard makes him look twenty years older, but I could probably pick him up without too much effort, his gangly, emaciated limbs almost childlike.

The absolutely heartbreaking shard of the man I love doesn't react as I walk closer, and his blank stare remains totally unfocussed. He appears to be somewhere else entirely, and his dark irises are the only clue that a soul still inhabits the confines of his…breathing corpse. His hands are busy playing with a ragged doll, the eyes of the toy half-torn from its head.

The familiar web of tattoos behind his ear turns my stomach.

"Four was the part of Damian that was more human. That could sing and laugh and love…"

I press my hands to the glass and fall to my knees, in absolute shock. Bloody scratches run along Four's arms and legs, and the betrayal and anger in my heart is replaced by a heavy sense of loss.

I try not to notice the blood under his fingernails or how he peeled the runes off his knuckles.

"What happened to him?" I croak.

"Morrigan was a talented shadow huntress. The best seed the kingdom had ever seen before you, really. She rose through the ranks and made it all the way to immortality. But that wasn't enough for her. She figured out what we were doing, and how living as separate beings made us susceptible to spells and curses that would have otherwise been ineffective against a powerful Fae king."

One flattens his back to the glass and slides to the ground like he doesn't have it in him to stand anymore. "She stole a love arrow directly from Eros' quiver and shot Four with it. It affected all of us, and so we began this whirlwind romance… We had no idea what was going on."

I squeeze his hands and bring them to my lap as a gesture of encouragement.

"On the eve of our wedding, I found out about the missing arrow and confronted Morrigan about it. She denied everything, of course. And, however fake our love was, I still felt it… I wasn't sure. I took the Queen of Hearts aside to investigate while the rehearsal dinner was underway.

"Knowing her fate was sealed if she didn't act quickly, Morrigan coated her shadow needles with the venom of a dreamcatcher spider and pierced Four's heart with it. She stabbed him in the middle of dinner—just like that, and cursed him to never get better if the wedding didn't go through."

Flames fill my blood, and the rage in my body finds an entirely new target. "And she still expected you to marry her after that?"

"After Eros reversed the effects of the arrow, there was no way in the seven hells I would have gone through with the wedding, but Morrigan fled before we could kill her. The whole court was present—along with a handful of monarchs. Her escape was so formidable that it earned her the nickname of phantom queen."

Three tiptoes inside the room. "We tried everything to heal Four. We even tried to merge with him again, thinking we could reabsorb him…but it never worked."

His coarse explanation shivers through me. "You can talk!"

Two stands stock-still on the other side of the glass cube, his fists balled at his sides. "Worse than that, the three leftover pieces of Damian weren't able to merge anymore, and so we became different people. Identical to a point, with the same memories as the original Damian, but a quarter as powerful. Each of us broken in our own way."

"We casted a spell over the entire realm to alter the High Fae's memories of the Shadow King and enlisted the sprites to spread wild rumors about why he had to wear a full-face mask. All these years, we were forced to lie and scheme to keep anyone from finding out the truth." One tugs on my hands. "Until you."

"So when I first arrived…"

Three pretends to sting his thumb with his nail. "I pricked your finger."

"And you made me strip by the pool." I glare at Two, furious.

He presses his forehead to the glass, his chin tucked in. "Don't look at me like that. I'm the drunk, cruel Damian. If I hadn't been outvoted at every turn, we would have done a lot worse."

I turn to One, my heart in pieces at his feet. "What do you need from me?"

He grazes my bottom lip with his thumb like I'm a branch from his sacred tree. "I wanted to win the bet to strengthen our magic. To survive. I never expected to fall in love with you…"

I blink a few times, trying to put the last pieces of the puzzle together. "Tell me about the bet. What is it for, exactly? What do you plan to do to my people?"

"Your father made sure I couldn't tell you the details."

I've always believed Damian would enslave us all if I lost, but everything I've been taught about him, about Faerie, has been a lie. Even Esme told me he was a monster…

"I give up, then. You win."

His forehead wrinkles into a hopeless frown. "It doesn't work like that. The finality of the bet can only be decided through your actions, not your words."

"Then…I'll flee. After you win the bet, you can take my magic. It will save you, no?"

He recoils violently at the offer and grabs a fist of his hair. "Don't be ridiculous. If I take your magic, you'll forget ever meeting me."

"I know." My eyes dart to the ground. It hurts too much. "Lori told me about Mara."

He smears a fresh tear across my cheek with his thumb. "What's the point of fighting this curse, enduring all this pain, if you don't remember who I am?"

"But you'll live. Your kingdom will be saved." I try to sound confident, but the hushed words are sheer and brittle. "Your only sin is lacking the strength to do your duty."

"Winning the bet would help, but it would only buy me a few more months… That's not enough." He rests his forehead on mine and gives it a little push. "I love you, Nell."

"Then seek me out. Make me remember."

"Mortals can't live in Faerie. Not without magic." His tortured gaze hardens into something sharp. "I won't take it—it's out of the question."

My heart gives a painful squeeze. If mortals are not allowed to live here, it means that Cece can't, either. But I can't give up on her. If she has to stay in Demeter, then so should I. "It's the only way to save you, Damian."

He freezes for a moment, shock written on his face at hearing his name on my lips. "I don't believe that. Not anymore. All these years… I was merely surviving the curse. I want to live again."

I risk a glimpse at Four again, the ache in my bones almost intolerable. "Can I try to heal him?"

With a small nod, One cuts a window into the glass with his magic, large enough for me to reach the fourth, broken piece of them. Maybe my magic can heal him just as it healed One from the spider.

Four's breath hitches when I flatten my palm to his bony arm, and his lids droop like he's about to fall asleep. The same icy, destructive feeling I experienced when I failed to heal Firenze's dead leg grips my heart.

Shadows wisp out of his wound like a wraith's hand coming to greet me, and I draw back from the spooky apparition. "How is he still alive? He's so…cold." My voice cracks. "It's not going to work."

One squeezes my shoulder. "It's okay, kitten. The more powerful the curse, the thinner the thread… It won't be so easy."

The smoke clears when I let the magic go, and a pearly white shape in the middle of the wound becomes visible, smack-dab in the center of the festering black goo.

A nervous hiccup quakes my throat. "Wait… What is that?"

"Morrigan pushed her poisoned shadow needle directly through his heart. If we remove it, he'll die," One says.

The smaller but identical pin in my calf burns, and my belly cramps. "Do you have a painting of Morrigan? A picture?" I start unlacing my boots in a hurry.

Two walks around the corner of the glass prison and leans over my shoulder to see what I'm doing. "Why?"

I rip off my socks and pinch the head of the pin Esme gave me. The three Damians all clench their fists in perfect synchrony, and a terrible truth slowly sinks in.

One gasps, and our gazes meet. "You…You're the mole?"

I grip the pearly head of the sewing pin and tear it out of my calf, my heart beating faster and faster. "I didn't know?—"

A thousand little moments of the last two years suddenly take on a totally different meaning. Esme kept so many secrets from me. She pretended that Damian was a monster and skewed my beliefs. And she was so eager to hear about the Shadow King…

Now, I know why she became my tutor in the first place.

"Hello, Damian." A sultry voice echoes in from the balcony behind us, and I whip my head around to the opened door.

Gone is the haughty governess. Everything about Esme—a-k-a Morrigan—is different, down to her perfectly round human ears. She leans in the doorway with a sly grace that leaves no doubt as to her cunning, her knee-high boots a vibrant shade of purple.

A secret smile tugs at her red-painted lips. "I've missed you, darling."