13. LONNIE

13

LONNIE

THE GROUNDS OF THE OBSIDIAN PALACE, EVERLAST CITY

S ome time later, Scion and I strolled between the colorful silk tents and reemerged in the midst of the revelry.

I looked around for any familiar faces, and didn't watch where I was going until I nearly collided with a line of twirling dancers, causing them to fall out of step with one another.

Scion reached out and lassoed me around the waist with one hand, pulling me backward just in time to avoid a collision. Pressing his chin into my shoulder and murmuring in my ear. "It's amazing how you can still be so damn clumsy. No wonder you never realized you were more than human."

I shivered, my toes curling when his warm breath fanned my neck. "Good thing you're there to catch me, then."

He chuckled softly, and tugged me closer against his chest. "Always."

I blinked to clear my mind before everything turned hazy once more, and tugged gently at his arm until he let me go. "Careful." I smiled over my shoulder. "It wouldn't take a lot of convincing to make me go right back to that balcony."

His silver eyes flashed dark. "Don't say things you don't mean, Rebel."

Oh, but I did mean it.

I didn't want to be anywhere near this party, anyway. Most especially, I didn't want to be anywhere near the ceremony that was meant to follow, and Scion had presented me with a much more enjoyable alternative.

"We should at least find Bael first," I mused, glancing back at the throngs of lively courtiers.

Scion raised an interested eyebrow. "Getting greedy, are we?"

I smacked his arm lightly. "That's not what I meant. I'm just sure we've been missed by now. Poor Bael has probably had to look after the druid all this time."

Before this week, I didn't know a single thing about coronations within the Fae court, but now I was better informed than I'd ever wished to be. Due to the time constraints, and the fact that we were mostly doing this for show, we'd forgone most of the formalities. There was no lavish parade or days worth of celebrations. I hadn't had to visit every city in the capital and ask for their blessing. We hadn't even bothered to write to Overcast and invite the rest of the Everlast family.

The one thing we hadn't been able to ignore, however, was the need for a Druid.

Druids were priests of the source. Most were humans who had gained power and immortality centuries ago due to continued exposure to the Source, but some had begun their lives as fae. During the fall of Nightshade, most of the druidic order had been wiped out, but there were still some who roamed from province to province proselytizing for the Gods.

Ironically given the origin of my magic, I had never had any desire or reason to worship the source, and was therefore a bit apprehensive about the robed stranger who would be performing my farce of a coronation. When he'd arrived earlier, having been sent for only days before, he'd given me such a searching look that I felt as if I were being examined from the inside out.

"I really don't know what the point of this is," I grumbled to Scion as we pushed through the rest of the crowd toward the raised platform and the throne. "I think Ambrose is deluding himself. What does it matter if I take the crown off just so someone else can place it back on my head in front of a crowd of strangers?"

"A crowd of our subjects," Scion corrected. "But I see your point. I believe Ambrose is simply trying to leave no stone unturned, so to speak."

"That's oddly charitable of you," I smiled. "Are you coming around to getting along, then?"

Scion's eye twitched with evident annoyance. "Let‘s not go that far, Rebel. I'm not sure I will ever do more than tolerate him."

"I don't know," I commented blandly. "You're immortal. Forever is a long time to hold a grudge."

We reached the edge of the enormous dais and paused. Finally, I spotted Bael on the other side of the platform. He looked up when I waved to him and his yellow eyes lit up. He mouthed something, but I couldn't understand him over all the noise.

"What?" I yelled.

He mouthed whatever it was again, and pointed to the man next to him. Indeed, it was the same robed druid as I'd met this afternoon. I groaned. That likely meant they wanted us to start the ceremony soon.

"I have the worst feeling about this," I muttered to Scion.

He looked down at me, his face contorting with concern. "Why?"

"I have no idea," I admitted. "There was nothing specifically wrong with the idea when Ambrose asked me about it, but I just…I don't know."

"Ambrose wouldn't do anything to hurt you," Scion said gruffly.

I raised my eyebrows. "I never said he would, but I'm surprised you think so."

Scion shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm sure it will be fine, rebel. You're likely nervous, but events like this always pass quickly."

"I don't know why you don't have to be crowned with me," I grumbled.

"Because we were never publicly wed," he replied, in a tone that implied forced patience. "And because I'm not the one who's going to break our curse."

It was an effort to keep the dread off my face, but still, I didn't argue with him. There was no point. In a few minutes either the curse would break, or it wouldn't, and that would be the end of that.

With a feeling of extreme trepidation, I took a step closer to the raised platform. There was a set of short stairs leading up toward the throne, and I stepped up onto the lowest one.

At that moment, the crowd seemed to part, and I stopped to see what they were all looking at.

My feet froze in place, and my jaw dropped open when Ambrose strode purposefully from the depths of the golden tent, his dark gaze fixed intently on me. I blinked rapidly and my heart skipped a traitorous beat.

I'd always had trouble picturing Ambrose amongst the glittering seelie court. He was certainly handsome, and carried himself with a raw power and confidence that could only be attributed to royalty. Still, there was something a bit too wild and unrefined about him that didn't seem to belong here among all the golden silk.

Now, I saw clearly that I'd been wrong.

The male striding toward us didn't look like he'd ever seen a battlefield. His hair was loose and perfectly styled to hide his tattoos and pierced ears behind a curtain of gleaming silver. Like Scion, he wore silver rings on each of his long fingers, and his blue silk jacket was open at the collar, showing just a hint of his muscled chest.

I swallowed thickly, finding my throat had gone dry.

Clearing my throat, I smiled widely by way of greeting, thinking that whatever I said he wouldn't be able to hear me over the tittering crowd. To my surprise, Ambrose didn't acknowledge me. In fact, as he grew closer, I noticed something slightly manic in his expression.

He stopped in front of us, breathing heavily. "Where the fuck have you been?"

I startled, taken aback by the anger in his tone, so at odds with the refined picture of elegance that was his persona tonight.

"We stepped out," Scion snapped, moving to stand more firmly in front of me. "That alright with you?"

Ambrose growled in frustration, and it was only then that I saw how his eyes were slightly unfocused, as if he were pretending to look at me but really staring at some distant point over my shoulder. I glanced behind me, and found nothing worth looking at.

I suddenly remembered the comment that Bael had made to me in passing–that seers were often out of touch with reality, and seemed strange when in the midst of a vision.

I assessed him more carefully, just as a bead of sweat rolled down Ambrose's temple and disappeared into his silver bright hair. He looked almost feverish.

"Wait," I hissed, putting out a hand to hold Scion back. "What's wrong with him?"

Scion cocked his head, glaring at his brother. Then he stiffened, and I could practically feel the moment he saw what I did. "What did you see?" he demanded urgently, his entire demeanor changing on a dime.

Ambrose blinked rapidly, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. He reached out and gripped Scion's forearm so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and I knew if he'd grabbed me like that my arm would have snapped. "Take her to the healer," he said. "Go now."

Scion looked at me, and I could see the conflict swirling behind his eyes. Before any of us could say or do anything, however, my dread came to fruition.

I heard Bael's voice over the crowd, calling to me and I turned over my shoulder to see him beckoning to the other side of the dais. The druidic priest had already taken his position in front of the enormous carved obsidian throne and was watching me, silent and staring.

In the same sharp moment I realized that the music had quieted. The crowd around me had stopped their shouting and laughing, and now only whispers rippled through the mass of assembled high fae.

"I have to go," I muttered to Scion and Ambrose. "We can sort this out after."

"Wait!" Scion called after me.

But then, some melodious bell rang out over the evening, seeming to signal to all that we were about to begin. The wisp lanterns on the edges of the clearings went out, leaving only the dais illuminated and then, to my horror, the entire crowd moved as one.

Every single member of the court fell to their knees in a deep low bow, leaving only me, Scion, Ambrose and the priest standing. I couldn't even see Bael, and wasn't sure if he'd decided to bow or not, but as my gaze flitted over in that direction I caught sight of another figure standing in the shadows of the waywoods.

Idris had not bowed, and was instead leaning against a tree watching me.

A shiver traveled down my spine and I faltered wanting to get as far away from this place as I could.

Except, then the druid was holding out a hand to me and somehow I was taking it, allowing him to pull me up onto the stage.

Here, I felt almost dizzy staring out over the crowd of bowing fairies. I knew from past experience that I had to tell them to rise or they might stay like that forever, passing out or falling asleep where they knelt rather than disobeying the custom. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any moment in which to address them.

The druid began to speak, addressing the crowd. After a long moment in which my brain struggled to make sense of what he was saying, I realized that I didn't understand him. Not only in an intellectual sense, but I literally did not speak the language. He was saying something undoubtedly important, but he was saying it in the old language of the fae. The language that was spoken in Nevermore and by most nobles, but had never been taught to me growing up in the kitchens.

I felt sweat bead on my brow and a nervous heat crept over my skin. What if he asked me something important? What if I had to agree to some bargain or pact that I didn't understand?

The priest finished his speech, and turned toward a small table that stood beside the throne. On it, the glittering obsidian crown sat within a carved wooden box. I eyed it nervously, as the druid reached out and took the crown, raising it high for all to see.

Again, he spoke, and though I couldn't understand the words his tone was easy enough to understand. "Look here upon the glory of the crown," I imagined he was saying. "This crown has been worn by every ruler of Elsewhere since its inception, and now it belongs to your new queen."

My hands began to tremble with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

What if Ambrose had been right? What if I really was worthy of that crown, and in a moment everything would change?

The druid lifted the crown higher until he was holding it at eye level. He turned to me, and met my gaze between the jagged black points.

He was not as old as I'd originally thought, I realized as I looked into his face. Middle aged, with a worn, weathered complexion and piercing blue eyes. He said something and leaned toward me, as if asking a question.

I shook my head, my eyes wide and frantic. "I don't understand."

The priest looked confused, but jerked his head toward the obsidian throne behind us.

Right. Of course.

My heart pounding far too loud and fast, I took a step toward the throne. When the priest didn't stop me I assumed I was doing something right. I could do this. Sit on the throne and put on the crown. How hard was that, after all I'd done to get here?

With shaky hands, I lowered myself onto the seat, feeling the weight of all eyes on me as I took my place in front of them. The air was tense with anticipation, and I could hear my own breaths echoing in the silence.

Abruptly, a deep, rumbling sound reverberated through the clearing. My head snapped around, my heart racing as I tried to make sense of the unexpected noise. Was it my imagination? A trick of my anxious mind? But then I felt the vibrations under my feet and knew it was real.

The ground beneath me erupted into violent tremors, sending a powerful jolt up my spine. The earth quaked with an intensity that seemed to swallow the surrounding landscape. The trees swayed and creaked as if in protest against the sudden movement. The air filled with a low, guttural rumble that seemed to come from the very depths of the earth.

Before I could even comprehend what was happening, a pungent smell of sulfur and ash overwhelmed my senses. The acrid scent burned my nostrils, parched my throat, and left a coating of sour char on my tongue.

Immediately, my entire body tensed up. Everyone knew the source of that scent. That sound. A tremble of fear rocked me and I looked up at the sky, already knowing exactly what I'd find.

For a moment, I thought the moon had disappeared from the sky, but after a moment I realized it was merely blocked. Blocked by an enormous swarm of dark, twisting shadows. The creatures emerged from the darkness like vengeful spirits. In the dim light of the clearing, their twisted and monstrous faces could almost be made out, contorted with either fury or anguish. They were like living nightmares, taking form and descending upon us as if we were their prey.

Screams sounded through the crowd. First a few, then many, as the nobles abandoned their kneeling position struggling to their feet as the ground shook beneath them. Many disappeared on the spot, but those who either couldn't or wouldn't shadow walk stumbled and crashed into each other in the chaos of their retreat.

Without thinking, I leapt to my feet. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd conjured a ball of flame in my palm and threw it as hard as I could at the oncoming mass of creatures.

In a fleeting moment, the ferocious flames hurled towards the oncoming mass, soaring through the air and igniting their ominous figures. The burning heat engulfed them, sending them careening into the sky.

For that brief moment, I allowed myself to hope that I had succeeded. That perhaps it was as simple as stopping the afflicted in their tracks. My heart swelled with hope.

But as quickly as it had come, everything went awry.

The fire turned in the air, hurtling back toward us with all the force of a boomerang. It crashed through the silk tents and into the center of the panicking crowd. In a flash, the whole clearing went up in flames.

The screams of the terrified revelers grew louder, mingling with the roar of the flames and the haunting shrieks of the afflicted.

The dancing fire illuminated the clearing, and now I could clearly see Scion in the crowd, crafting shadows out of thin air and using them to try and suffocate the burning tents. Beside him, Ambrose had found a sword and was brandishing it at the oncoming afflicted.

I surged forward, intending to join them in trying to help.

A sudden touch on my back sent a jolt of fear through my body, causing me to spin around in a defensive stance. But instead of a vicious creature, I was met with the intense gaze of Bael. His yellow eyes seemed to glow with intensity as he pulled me to him, trying to shield me from the chaos.

"Come on," he growled. "Hold on to me, I'm taking you out of here."

"No," I hissed, twisting in his arms. "We need to help."

I didn't know what I was planning to do, only that I couldn't just flee and save myself when so many others were in danger.

I wrenched myself free from Bael's grip and sprinted down the short set of stone steps, dodging through the throngs of frantic people. Bael was hot on my heels, his large hand reaching out to grab me again. As I pushed through the crowd, I spotted Scion and Ambrose fighting their way towards us. We locked eyes for a brief moment before they joined us in the middle of the chaos, flames licking at our feet.

The thick, acrid smoke filled my nostrils and burned my lungs, causing me to cough and sputter. My mind went numb as I surveyed the destruction before me. Strangely, I wasn't afraid. Confused, yes. Angry, certainly. But not afraid. We wouldn't die here–not tonight, not ever. I only wished the same could be said for everyone.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, everything stopped.

The deafening screams and cries suddenly fell silent, leaving only a thick, eerie stillness in the air. The fires died, like all the air had been sucked from the world. The malevolent mass of afflicted seemed to evaporate, vanishing into thin air. The only thing that remained was the destruction. The ground was littered with charred debris and broken bodies, some crying out for help while others lay motionless.

Behind me, Bael grabbed my hand, and held on to it, as if afraid I might disappear too.

"What happened?" I gasped, only loud enough for Bael to hear.

Beside me, Scion shook his head. He wasn't looking at me, and I followed his gaze just in time to see movement in the crowd on the edge of the dais. I went stiff.

The bedraggled fae parted, to let Idris stride into the middle of the clearing. He moved with purpose, climbing up on the dais and turning slowly like he was expecting applause.

As if sensing my eyes, he looked across the clearing and smiled the same benign smile he'd worn nearly every time we'd spoken. Only this time it didn't reach his eyes. He looked me up and down, a hint of sickly sweet disgust in his expression, before he deliberately turned his back on me.

"Friends!" He cried, raising his arms out to the sides as if welcoming the crowd. "Please don't be afraid. Nothing can harm you while I am here."

A sick feeling of dread bubbled up in the pit of my stomach, and I gripped Bael's fingers even harder.

The monster had shown his teeth, and he was bearing down on us about to strike.

Slowly the crowd began to surge. Those who had not shadow walked back to the city, or fled into the woods began to emerge from makeshift hiding places, looking up at the dais with a kind of hypnotic wonderment.

Idris bent down, and reached for a crumpled pile of robes heaped in front of the throne. I gasped, when a split second later I saw it wasn't a pile of robes but the body of the druid. I hadn't even noticed him fall. Idris dragged the druid's hood back from his face so that all could clearly see the dead, staring eyes that looked up blindly.

Shaking his head as if in sorrow, Idris returned his attention to the gathering crowd. "This was a man of magic," he roared, pointing down at the druid. "A dedicated worshiper of the source who was cut down needlessly right in front of your eyes. I wish, for your sake, that this was surprising, but all I have seen of this court is violence, war, and treachery."

He plucked the obsidian crown from the priest's limp hand, and held it aloft, still addressing the crowd."For years you've been deceived. Tricked. Dare I say, lied to by those who were supposed to keep you safe. Your lives have been made infinitely worse because you are ruled by royals with unseelie blood in their veins, the descendants of the cursed and the condemned."

Beside me, I felt Ambrose go stiff, and Scion audibly growled. Bael gripped my fingers so hard it hurt, but I didn't even try to pull away.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized that this was bad–so much worse than I ever would have guessed, even through all my suspicions of Idris. No one in the entire kingdom of Elsewhere knew that the Everlasts were descendants of Aisling and the first Unseelie king. No one, except those who knew of their curse.

The crowd began to murmur, vicious whispers penetrating the air. They seemed to push closer to us, and immediately Scion threw out a hand. Shadows spilled from his fingers, creating a barrier around us, protecting us from the crowd.

On the platform, Idris threw back his head and laughed. His unnerving musical laughter was high and cruel, grating on the ears.

"Look how they hold you at bay with their magic." he shouted, spinning around to point directly at us. "The Sluagh queen who infects this court with her inferior blood, calls the afflicted to her and burns your homes to the ground. The butcher turned king, who leveled countless villages and holds the threat of endless pain over the heads of every person in this city. The Unseelie mutt who has further infected the gleaming court with the evil power of Underneath, and this—" he turned finally to Ambrose, sneering "—traitor, who holds no loyalty to either his blood nor his chosen family, and only seeks to use you as a pawn in his quest for power.These are the monsters you've followed blindly, because you had no other choice. Let me offer you that choice."

"Once, I knew a country where high fae were prosperous. Where we did not have to tolerate creatures who are inherently beneath us. Where magic flourished. I believe Elsewhere can be that country again, but not until we have purged the curse on this land. Follow me, and I'll show you what this court was always meant to be. I'll build you a kingdom free from monsters, in the name of my mother, Aisling the Uniter."