9. LONNIE

9

LONNIE

THE OBSIDIAN PALACE, EVERLAST CITY

I n the days that followed my mother's death everything seemed to pause.

For the entirety of that first night, all three of the Everlasts stayed with me, but by morning Ambrose had disappeared. I thought he might return at nightfall, if only to ask how I was feeling, but he did not. I had half a mind to go find him and ask why he was avoiding me, but I couldn't find the energy.

For that matter, I couldn't find the energy to do much of anything.

All my training came to an abrupt halt and there were no more discussions of Aisling or her heir, or even conversations about the curse. I knew that the men hadn't fully stopped their research and plotting, but no one asked me to participate.

I spent the better part of the next five days in my room playing over every single moment of my final conversation with my mother until I wasn't sure what was a true memory and what was my own conjecture. My depression wasn't nearly as bad as it had been after my sister died, or even all those years ago when I'd first lost my mother. Still, I couldn't completely banish the gloom that settled over me like a funeral shroud, nor the constant questions and feelings of guilt.

It wasn't until the sixth day of my self-imposed confinement that things changed.

It was close to noon, but I lay alone in bed. Bael and Scion had both slept beside me the previous night, but they'd left early in the morning without explaining where they were going. I was fairly certain Bael was spending the majority of his time helping Ambrose search for information about the curse, while Scion seemed to have resumed his former role as master of the castle. Admittedly, however, I hadn't asked for details.

Outside my window, thunder rumbled, the sudden sound making me jump. I glanced across the room at the open window, and was equally startled to find the sky an ominous shade of gray. I hadn't even noticed the light changing in the room as the storm rolled in, and now I jumped to my feet dashing across the room to close the window before the rain soaked the curtains.

I reached up, struggling to close the heavy window when an enormous blue-black shape landed on the stone sill in front of me. I jumped back in alarm, letting out a small shriek. "Quill!"

The raven ruffled his large wings, his feathers glinting with rain. He cocked his head at me, and let out his usual squawk of greeting. "You look terrible," he seemed to say.

I scowled. "Well at least I'm dry."

The bird chittered, seeming to laugh at me. I humphed and waved him into the room so I could finish closing the window just as a flash of lightning lit up the dull gray sky.

Quill hopped off the window ledge and swooped across the room, landing on the foot of the bed instead. He looked at me again, narrowing his beady coal-black eyes. "When was the last time you left this room?"

I rolled my eyes, and didn't reply. It seemed stupid to argue with the bird–or rather with my own subconscious. I could take a hint.

Thinking I might at least walk down to the kitchens for a spot of lunch, I strode across the room and yanked open the doors of the mahogany wardrobe. My fingers ran over the rows of neatly hung dresses until I found a midnight blue one that caught my eye. After quickly slipping into it, I braided my long hair into a hasty crown.

Quill leapt off the bed, and I braced myself as he fluttered down on my shoulder. I glanced up at him. "I hope you're not expecting an adventure. I'm not sure I can manage more than a trip to the kitchens today."

He blinked his glassy eyes at me, and for once I have no notion of what he might have been trying to say.

I made my way to the door and threw it open, stepping out into the hallway. Unfortunately, that was where my motivation died.

I wasn't hungry, and otherwise I had nothing to do. I couldn't very well go back to practicing magic when the courtyard was soon to be flooded, and undoubtedly if Bael or Scion were available to keep me company they already would have been here.

My thoughts drifted to Ambrose for a moment, but I quickly dismissed the idea. He was likely busy as well, and more importantly, I didn't think my fragile mood could handle it if he dismissed me.

Frowning, I wandered aimlessly down the hall in the same direction Bael and I had run on the night– wait.

I stopped in the middle of the hall, shocked by my realization.

I'd completely forgotten about Idris, and about the theory that Bael and I had begun to craft before everything came crashing down around me, but there was still ample time to speak with him. I assumed Bael had not already done so, or he would have told me. And was this not the perfect opportunity? If Idris was hiding anything about his identity, surely he'd be more willing to talk to me alone.

A renewed sense of purpose coursing through me, I sped up, marching down the hall.

It didn't take me long to find the mysterious former prisoner.

I descended the stairs into the enormous entrance hall and immediately spotted him, standing just under the stone overhang that sheltered the open doorway, looking outside at the rain. I smiled with genuine excitement. It was a lucky thing to find him here so easily, when this castle was large enough to spend hours getting lost in.

As if he sensed my presence–or perhaps he just heard the tap of my shoes against the stone stairs–Idris turned to look at me.

He offered me a pleasant smile, and I was once again startled by how healthy he looked for someone who had allegedly been imprisoned for thousands of years. Immortal or not, it seemed impossible that he should look so…alive.

Idris's chin-length hair was pushed back from his face, and he was wearing a red embroidered silk jacket and a pair of matching trousers. I guessed he might have borrowed them from Bael, who was both the most likely to lend anyone his clothing, and the closest match to Idris in both height and weight–Scion being several inches taller, and Ambrose far too muscular across the chest and shoulders. As I approached, he raised a hand to wave at me. "Lonnie," he greeted me jovially. "It's good to see you up."

"Thank you," I muttered, flushing slightly.

"If you're looking for your mates, I'm afraid I can't help. I haven't seen any of them all morning."

I waved him off. "I wasn't. I was actually hoping to ask you something."

"Of course, would you like to join me?" He smiled pleasantly and gestured for me to come stand beside him.

I faltered, distracted for a moment. "Join you in what exactly? What are you doing?"

His smile widened. "I enjoy watching the rain. It's been many years since I've seen it."

"Oh, of course. I should have realized." I moved to stand beside him on the threshold and also turned to look at the rain now firmly pelting the front lawn and cobblestone road that led from the castle down to the city. "How are you enjoying the capital?"

Idris smiled again. "I haven't ventured far into the city itself, but the castle is comfortable. Though, I suppose anything is better than where you found me."

I cleared my throat, a slight wave of discomfort washing over me. "That was actually what I wanted to discuss."

He held up a hand to stop me, frowning apologetically. "If you've come to ask more about what I recall from prior to my imprisonment, I'm sorry to tell you that nothing has jogged my memory."

"No, it's not that," I said quickly. "Not precisely at any rate. My mother seemed to think–"

He cocked his head at me, his smile still firmly fixed in place yet for some reason a small shiver traveled down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the damp wind.

"Your mother is the one who tried to kill you in the dungeons, correct?"

"Well yes. She was a flawed person, but–"

"Then why would you take stock in anything she said? She was human, was she not? Doesn't it seem more likely that she lied?"

I narrowed my eyes in annoyance. He hadn't even let me finish my question before he was denying the credibility of my mother's story. Did that mean he had more information than he wanted to share, or was this simply the Fae's tendency to write off humans as untrustworthy?

Seeming to sense my frustration, Idris changed tact. His smile returned, and he put an almost fatherly hand on my shoulder. "I apologize. I should be more sensitive to your recent loss."

"I just wish I knew who killed her?"

He seemed taken aback. "You think someone else killed her? Someone other than yourself, of course."

I scowled openly this time. "I didn't kill her, and yes, I do. Either that or she did it herself, because there's no chance that she dropped dead of natural causes in the few minutes between when I left her and when Scion and Ambrose found her body."

He looked troubled–perhaps sympathetic, but it was hard to tell as I did not know him well. "Is it always so dreary here?" he asked abruptly, changing the subject so fast it gave me whiplash.

I frowned. "I thought you said you enjoyed the rain?"

"No, you misunderstand," he waved me off. "I mean dreary within the castle. All any of you seem to do is stay locked up in that old study, or train as if you're at war."

I opened my mouth to tell him we were at war, then closed it again shaking my head. I supposed we really weren't—not any more, at any rate. It had been Ambrose and his rebellion who had for so long necessitated a strong army presence in the capital, but now that there was an uneasy truce between him and the rest of the family there was little need to prepare for another attack. Furthermore, the realm of Underneath, which had maintained a constant threat for many years, was no longer a concern now that Bael had won the throne.

One could argue that Aftermath still posed a threat, with its Wilde magic and afflicted monsters, but that wasn't a war so to speak.

I supposed Idris was right—we were constantly vigilant for a threat that had no physical form.

"It's complicated," I said vaguely. "And I do not think we are behaving as if there's a war coming. I'm merely training to use my magic better."

"But what for?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"For…I don't know, what do you mean?"

"You have exclusively combative magic, do you not? What is the point of your abilities if not to fight?"

I had no answer for that.

Again, he was correct, but I was not the only one whom that applied to. Neither Bael nor Scion had the sort of magic that could do much else besides killing, yet they'd trained since birth to master their powers. Was I not doing the same?

"I suppose I'm not exactly sure what you're getting at," I said finally.

"I'm merely noting that I've never encountered a royal court that engaged in such little revelry."

"How many royal courts have you encountered?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He waved me off. "It was a figure of speech. I only meant, do you not host parties? Throw balls?"

"Er…well I don't, no."

"Why not?"

Again, I found myself at a loss. I was tempted to say that it was not my responsibility, but that wasn't exactly true. I was the queen, after all, and finally I could understand what Idris was getting at. Before the hunts, and especially during the reign of Queen Celia, the Everlasts did throw revels on a weekly basis.

"Are you suggesting I should have a ball? Here? Now?" I said incredulously, waving a hand around the room as if to point out the still damaged castle.

He smiled. "I assume you never had a true coronation feast. Isn't that something to celebrate? Or perhaps your recent marriage."

I pressed my lips together, thinking. "I suppose…"

Idris smiled widely at me in an indulgent way, like a favorite grandparent might smile at a child. "I'm merely suggesting you think about it. Not everything in life needs to be so catastrophic."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me utterly perplexed and no closer to answers than I had been before.