11. LONNIE

11

LONNIE

THE OBSIDIAN PALACE, EVERLAST CITY

I sat at the head of the long breakfast table in the royal dining room shoveling food into my mouth with almost indecent haste.

For the first time in recent memory, nearly all the seats at the dining table were filled.

Scion sat across from me at the other head of the table, holding a large leather-bound book in one hand, and his fork limply in the other. His posture matched that of Ambrose, who sat to my left, also reading. To my right, Bael was cutting up his sausages, seeming more awake and alert than he usually was as of late, and beside Bael, Idris was watching me with evident curiosity.

I glanced up over my breakfast and met Idris's gaze. "Was there something you wanted?"

He smiled, seeming slightly amused. "I was simply wondering if you have somewhere to be this morning. You're eating rather quickly."

"Not exactly," I mumbled through a mouthful of toast. "I just want to begin training on time."

"On time for whom?" Bael asked, his yellow eyes flashing with amusement. "You're training yourself. No one cares when you begin."

"I care," I replied mulishly, washing down my toast with a sip of strong herbal tea. "I think I'm finally close to mastering that trick with the fireballs. Yesterday I nearly managed to hit the target."

"That's amazing, little monster."

"Thank you." I smiled. "Next I'm going to try and make ropes."

It had been several days since I'd resumed training and things had returned to something resembling normal. Or at least, normal for us.

Scion and Ambrose were getting along better, and I could only assume it was due to the time they'd been putting into research. They'd found several more mentions of the crown as well as drawings like the one Ambrose had shown me the other day. At this point, even I had to admit that he was right–Celia clearly had been on to something, though what that thing was I couldn't say.

Despite my initial desire to speak to Idris again, so far I hadn't been able to find a good moment. I was watching him more carefully, but as far as I could tell he wasn't up to anything nefarious. He'd taken to strolling the corridors and the grounds of the castle, or sitting in the garden for hours on end. He didn't go anywhere or meet with anyone. If anything, he seemed bored.

I startled as Ambrose put his book down on the table with a smack. I looked over at him, finding him already watching me with interest.

"You're planning to make ropes next?" he asked. "You mean like Sci?"

I raised my eyebrows at the casual use of Scion's family nickname, but no one else seemed to notice it. I nodded, and heaped some scrambled eggs onto my last piece of toast.

"Will you use flames or shadows?" Bael asked.

"Er, I'd planned to use flames, but I suppose I could try both."

"I can't wait for you to try turning something to dust," Bael said slightly wistfully. "I've never met someone else who could do what I do."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Scion grumbled, not looking up from his book. "The last thing we need is for her to destroy the castle…again."

I glowered at him, but he looked up from his book and grinned, assuring me that he was joking.

"You all are fascinating," Idris said lightly.

I jumped and looked over at him surprised, having almost forgotten we had an audience. "How so?'

"Well, it's just as I was saying the other day. You all are so focused on fighting and whatever it is you're searching for in the library. One would think you were all preparing for a battle."

"Who's to say we're not?" Scion snapped, his eyes narrowing.

"But against whom?" Idris chuckled. "I've never known royals to be so active. Don't you all typically spend your time enjoying yourselves?"

"How would you know?" I said quickly. "Do you remember any royals from before you were imprisoned?"

He looked at me sharply. "I was imprisoned in a castle, dear. I simply meant that Ganacanagh's court never did much else besides go hunting and hold banquets."

I furrowed my brow. How he could know that when he'd been trapped in a cell was more than a little suspicious, but I didn't know exactly what to say to challenge him. Perhaps it was better to play along and wait to see if he slipped up again.

"Are you suggesting that we should be throwing parties rather than running the country?" Scion asked, acidly.

"Are you running the country?" Idris asked innocently. "I was under the impression that you left most of the governing to your regional figureheads."

Scion looked sour. He didn't take well to criticism, especially when it came to the well-being of Elsewhere.

In fairness, Idris wasn't precisely wrong.

The cities mostly ran themselves with the oversight of the Governing families. On occasion the lords and ladies of each court would reach out to the capital, usually for money or soldiers, but otherwise we had very little to do with them. As Scion had once explained to me, royalty focused on larger scale problems, such as the ongoing situation in Aftermath and the shifting powers on the continent.

"What do you suggest we do differently," Scion asked. His tone was perfectly pleasant but I could tell from the steely gray glint in his usually silver eyes that our guest was on thin ice.

"I wouldn't presume to know precisely," Idris replied, still smiling."If it were up to me, however, I might dedicate some time to improving the lives of the people?"

"How so?" Scion snapped, a sickly sweet edge to his tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"I understand you have humans and high fae living together in your city?"

"We do," I answered.

Idris reached for his tea, taking a slow sip. "Then perhaps you should focus on them."

I grimaced. I supposed that wasn't a bad suggestion. Not at all, actually. "I have been wanting to do something to improve Cheapside," I mused.

Idris beamed. "That's an excellent idea. Of course, the humans are an inconvenience but one that is easily remedied."

I stopped eating abruptly and let my fork fall back onto my plate. "Remedied?"

"Well, of course. If you are looking to improve your city I'm sure there's somewhere else the Sluagh could be sent that might make everyone a little more comfortable."

My throat went dry and my pulse sped up, pounding in my temple. I sat up straighter, glaring at Idris. "Somewhere else? Where would you suggest the humans go? Bearing in mind that quite literally every single one of those people is here because either they or their ancestors were stolen from their homes and brought here against their will."

Beside me, Bael reached under the table and gripped my knee. At first, I thought he was trying to tell me to calm down, but then I caught sight of his expression. It was full of cold rage, the likes of which I hadn't seen from him since perhaps the day he killed the guard who'd tormented me in the dungeon.

"Oh, you misunderstand," Idris said jovially. "I didn't mean sending the Sluagh anywhere unpleasant. No, I simply meant that perhaps everyone would be happier with more clear separation. Them included."

"You've certainly thought a lot about it in a very short period of time," I said coldly. "If we were to implement something like that, which settlement would you send me to?"

Idris's benign smile returned at once. "As I said, I wouldn't presume to think I know everything. You wear the crown, afterall."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste, and stood up from the table. "I do," I snapped. "And I killed the last king to get it. So, if you'll excuse me I'll be outside training to kill the next prick who thinks he can run this country better than we can."

A full hour later, I was still angry about breakfast.

I shouldn't have yelled at Idris–not least because I'd essentially proved his point, painting myself as just as rash and violent as I'd ever accused the Everlast family of being. I couldn't even explain to myself exactly what it was that bothered me about Idris. He was clearly prejudiced against humans, but unfortunately that was hardly unusual. In fact, he'd been more polite than most high fae typically were when discussing the Sluagh.

Maybe it was that the entire conversation brought me back to another time, when I'd had absolutely no agency in my own life and was far too afraid to speak up in my own or anyone else's defense.

Maybe it was that Idris had made me feel helpless. Like nothing we were doing mattered.

I felt like I'd betrayed the version of me who had stolen golden candle sticks to hand out to starving villagers. I'd been in the castle for months now, but we weren't doing anything to help anyone but ourselves. Perhaps we should take a greater hand in governing the cities and improving the lives of the people, but as I'd come to realize over these last months, it was much harder than it appeared from the outside. I could give candlesticks to every citizen of elsewhere and it still wouldn't matter. Real change–real progress–was never so simple.

Letting my anger fuel me, I stood with my legs wide and my shoulders back, facing the same red and white painted targets as last week. The targets remained untouched except by the recent rain and wind, however the patches of dead burnt grass surrounding them were growing gradually closer. It was a nice warm morning, yet the rain from the last several days still clung to the grass. At least that might make it harder for me to light the lawn on fire.

I rolled my shoulders and took a deep breath, before allowing the warmth from within me to travel down my arm to my hand. Instantly, a warm ball of glittering, dancing flames appeared, just barely tickling my flesh as I eyed the center of the target.

"Well done," someone said behind me. "You've really gotten the hang of that."

I whirled around, startled, and had let the fire fly from my hand before my brain was able to register that I recognized the voice.

I gasped, as I beheld Ambrose sauntering toward me across the lawn. He jumped out of the way of the fire, just barely avoiding it. Instead, one of the damp thorny bushes dotting the lawn began to smoke.

"I'm sorry," I said a bit peevishly. "You startled me."

"My fault," Ambrose said, "I should know better than to sneak up on a pretty girl holding a weapon."

I flushed in spite of myself. "Why should it matter if I'm pretty or not?"

"Because the most dangerous things are often the most tempting."

The heat in my cheeks burned hotter and I glanced down, having no idea what to say to that. He really shouldn't have been flirting with me at all, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him to stop. Indeed, my thoughts immediately drifted to our last night in Underneath, and I had to yank my mind back with brutal force.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked tonelessly. "Don't you have more research to do?"

He ran a hand over the shaved side of his head and down the back of his neck. "You left so abruptly, I wanted to make sure you were alright. That meal was…" he looked at a loss for words.

I found the words for him. "That meal was far better than many I've experienced in the palace. Idris is tame compared with your aunt Raewyn, or–" I broke off.

"Or any of us, at one point or another." Ambrose looked uncomfortable. "Believe me, I know, but people can learn and change their minds. You've certainly done more to change the perception of humans than likely anyone else in the history of Elsewhere."

"Right," I said bitterly. "But that's only because I'm not truly human. If I were, I would have died ten times over long before I ever had the chance to influence anyone."

He said nothing, which I took to mean he grasped my point. Somehow, that helped. It wasn't a pleasant topic for any one of us, but at least Ambrose wasn't trying to gloss over my past experiences just because now things had changed.

Making a valiant effort to change the subject, Ambrose nodded toward the target. "Are you going to try again?"

"Yes." I turned away from him, meanwhile conjuring another ball in my hand.

Feeling his eyes on my back, I threw the fire toward the target with as much force as I could manage. For a few seconds it sailed straight at the target. Then, at the last moment the flaming orb spun wildly out of control, arching sideways and very nearly hurtling back in our direction before it plowed into the damp grass. I groaned. "By the fucking source. I give up!"

Ambrose made a humming sound like he was thinking. "Do you always miss the targets?"

I scowled over my shoulder. "Yes. The grass could tell you that much."

"That's odd. You're throwing hard enough, but it seems like an accuracy issue."

"Yes, I'm bad at throwing," I said acidly. "I don't need you to tell me that."

Ambrose still looked contemplative. "You're not, actually—bad at throwing, that is."

"No, I am. I'm so bad in fact that I've managed to nearly hit almost everyone who's ever come out here to watch me. It's pathetic."

Ambrose's eyes lit up. "Yet you had no trouble throwing the fire directly at me when I startled you. If I hadn't moved it would have hit me straight in the chest, and I was further away than your targets."

I frowned, looking from the targets to the smoking bush behind me that had taken the brunt of my attack. To my surprise, he was right.

"Perhaps I need to be under direct threat?" I theorized. Gods, I hoped that wasn't the answer because the last thing I wanted was to wait until the middle of a real fight to know for sure if I could hit anything.

"Perhaps," Ambrose said in a tone that told me he didn't believe that was the case. He stepped around me and sauntered purposefully toward the target, before standing directly in front of it. "Now try again."

"No!" I said automatically. "What if I hit you?"

He smirked at me. "You won't. Trust me."

Inexplicably, I felt the heat crawling up the back of my neck once again, and I looked down. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you if you end up with both halves of your head bald."

He merely nodded for me to begin, and I quickly conjured another fireball and threw it at him. It wasn't my best throw, not my strongest, but still the flames hurtled toward Ambrose's too handsome face and I felt my stomach dip with fear. "Look out!"

At the last possible second, he stepped back, disappearing into the shadows just as the fire sailed through where he would have been standing and smashed into the straw circular target. I gaped, my shock turning to excitement as the flames engulfed the straw, sending great plumes of smoke up into the air. I shrieked, nearly jumping off my feet in excitement.

Ambrose reappeared beside me, just in time for me to spin directly into his chest. He put out his arms to steady me, trapping me in a loose hold.

"Congratulations." He grinned down at me, practically blinding me with his dazzling smile.

I tipped my head nearly all the way back to meet his jet-black gaze. "How did you know that would work?"

"Just a theory," he said, brushing off my admiration as if it was nothing. "I think your abilities are like the source itself. The fire is merely a conduit, but you could probably learn to conjure other things with time and practice."

"I have no idea what that means," I said, still grinning widely, basking in my success after so many months of having no idea how to control any aspect of my mysterious power.

"The Source is both a magnet and a power source to all creatures with magic," he explained. "We're all drawn to its power, while at the same time the magic wants to spread out and sustain all of us. No matter how accurately you throw, the magic will seek the best magical vessel in its immediate path. The targets are innate, but the grass and trees are still alive, making them better vessels for power."

"Except if you're standing in the way," I finished, for him.

"Exactly. It's only a theory, though. I could be wrong. Maybe you just harbor a secret desire to light me on fire."

"I don't know about that. If I did, I'm not sure I'd bother to keep it a secret."

"I'll watch my back, then," he replied, still grinning.

It was only at that moment that it dawned on me how very close we were still standing. Ambrose's arms were loose around my waist, somewhere between a hug and an attempt to hold me upright. If I titled my head up just a tiny bit further, I was close enough to run my tongue over the underside of his sharp jaw.

"So, is that the only reason why you came down here?" I asked, my voice suddenly sounding a bit raspy as my throat had gone dry. "To see if I was alright? Or was it to share your theory?"

I held my breath. I wasn't sure what I wanted or expected him to say. That he'd sought me out again because he too couldn't stop thinking about our week on the ship together, or what might have happened if we hadn't stopped that night in Underneath? No, that would be ridiculous and entirely out of character.

And yet…

Ambrose cleared his own throat and stepped back, dropping his arms back to his sides. "No," he said, almost begrudgingly. "I actually wanted to run an idea by you. I thought of it earlier, when Idris was going on about how to rule."

I scowled. "Don't remind me. Did you notice how he seemed to know what was going on in the court of Underneath? I can say from experience that if you're stuck in a dungeon you have no sense of what's happening above you."

Ambrose frowned. "Perhaps he was just guessing?"

"Perhaps, but why aren't you even questioning him?"

Ambrose's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I mean, where's the male who was suspicious of every tiny detail while we were in Underneath? Where's the army general? You cannot tell me that you survived so long marshaling a rebellion without being just the smallest bit paranoid."

"I survived so long because I always know if someone is about to betray me," he said pointedly. "I told you, I spoke with him that first night on the ship and he made it very clear that he has no intention of hurting us."

I scowled. "Something seems off."

Ambrose looked a bit exasperated, like he was only humoring me. "Perhaps you're right, but that's not what I came to talk to you about."

"Then what is?"

"It occurred to me that you never had a coronation."

I raised an eyebrow. "It hadn't occurred to me that I needed one. Anyway, I don't think the people of Elsewhere would be all that excited to see me, I'm still the human usurper who stole their kingdom, remember?"

"You're not human," he corrected. "And I actually don't think you realize how popular you are among the citizens, especially in the capital. They love you and would be loyal if you asked them to in a way they have never been for us. They see you as a sign of hope, and that things are changing for the better."

My cheeks felt hot once more and I found myself staring at my shoes. "So, you just want to raise morale in the capital?"

"No," Ambrose sighed. "If that was all it was I'd suggest we have a parade of some sort, but I think a coronation might serve a greater purpose."

"Such as?"

He glanced over his shoulder toward the castle for a moment, as if checking that we were well and truly alone before continuing. "I can't stop thinking about how you already have the crown."

I furrowed my brow. "So?"

"So, that should have broken the curse," he said, his tone low and insistant. "Now with what your mother revealed about your connection to Aisling I'm more sure than ever that I was right, and you're the worthy one that the prophecy spoke of."

"I'm not sure about that…"I said uncomfortably.

"I am," he replied."It's the only thing that makes sense."

"What about Scion?" I asked, almost desperately. "You told me while we were on the ship that you spent years trying to mold him into the next ruler from afar."

"I know, but I think that's part of it. I nearly succeeded, don't you see? Everything I did to set up Scion to be the king led him to mating with you and becoming the king consort. I hadn't even planned to use Bael for anything, but I still managed to lead him to becoming the king of Underneath, which is a powerful ally in its own right and support you'll need in the future. The way I see it, the curse should have already broken."

"Maybe it's because I never finished the hunts," I thought aloud. "I never defended the crown."

"That doesn't make sense either," Ambrose insisted. "The hunts were invented after the curse was already cast as a means to find a worthy person. The number and order of events had nothing to do with Aisling, and there's nothing in the history books that implies you have to actually finish them. Only that you must kill the previous monarch, which you did."

"So, what?" I raised my eyebrows. "You think having an official coronation will wake up the gods and remind them they forgot to lift their generations long curse."

I meant it to sound absurd–because it was, but Ambrose only nodded. "Maybe."

I scoffed. "That seems crazy."

"Maybe so, but I don't know what else to do. We've read nearly every book in Celia's library, and there's nothing. No mentions of the curse, not even of Aisling. All I've found was more drawings of that crown with three jewels."

"What jewels?" I asked, distracted.

He ran both hands through his hair, his frustration clearly close to boiling over. "From what I can tell, they're probably just symbolic, likely representing the three territories that came together with Nightshade to form Elsewhere, which is Inbetwixt, Overcast and Nevermore."

"What makes you think that?"

"I recognize one of them–or, at least I think I do. It's the diamond of Nevermore, which has been a prized possession of the province for centuries. The only thing that bothers me is the obsidian crown doesn't have jewels, and it never did."

"How do you know?" I asked, curiously.

"Because it's been in our family since the beginning of the dynasty, and we have numerous records of it. There are paintings of past rulers wearing it, and descriptions in old ballads. There are no jewels."

I had nothing to add to that, and so remained silent, waiting for him to come back out of his own deep thoughts.

"In any case," he said after a moment, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I think we should try the coronation. If it doesn't work then we can always keep researching, or perhaps travel to other cities and see if their libraries hold different information."

I grimaced. "I suppose there's no reason to say no."

He flashed me a grin. "That's got to be the least enthusiastic ‘yes' I've ever heard from a woman, but in this case I'll take it."

I didn't share his smile. "I suppose at least someone will be happy. Idris will get that party he's been lobbying for."

Ambrose shrugged, still looking pleased and I couldn't bring myself to disappoint him. As I'd said, there was really no good reason to deny having a coronation. It wasn't much effort on my part, and if Ambrose was somehow right then it would be possibly the most important thing I'd ever done.

Still, for some reason I felt uneasy.

It was like a premonition, warning me of danger but not specifically what that danger was.

Days later, I would reflect that I should have listened to that gut feeling. Then, maybe everyone would still be alive.