Prologue

ICARUS

I carus stood in shadow.

The dark had always been a friend to the Fae. He had long heard it whispering to him. From the moment he came into his powers, and even now.

Now that he was watching the fated duel commence. The one between his own son, Rodan, and Titania's daughter, side by side against the pawn Sebastian Sekou.

He watched Maeve Almeida deliver the annihilating blow to the sorcerer. Watched the shade consumed by her blue fire.

That fire flickered in the orbs of his green and purple eyes, and he could taste it, the power of the gods. The power the darkness needed.

Soon , said the shadows. The Nyx at his back shuddered and gave a sound similar to a whimper. Icarus ignored it, and wrapped them both into thicker darkness, ensuring no one saw them as the stadium erupted in noise, the spectators screaming for their champions.

Icarus turned to go back to the castle through the secret ways only he and Rodan knew of, when his son spoke from the dirt floor of the stadium where he was kneeling. "I yield."

Icarus stopped as silence fell, total and complete.

Rodan said it again. "I yield to you, Maeve Almeida."

There was a moment where he was also still and silent, unbelieving that his son had said those words. Icarus turned back, and saw Rodan's head bowed toward the girl.

He gave a snarl and stormed into the passageway leading back to the castle, the Nyx following, even as those fools began cheering again.

The Nyx was an awful creature. For all his master was fond of them, Icarus could never find his way to seeing them as more than useful instruments. His lord Ninack called them glorious things, beings of such pure darkness that he should have been the shaper himself.

Glancing over his shoulder, Icarus could give some credit to the way the Nyx moved. Graceful and liquid, it became like the shadows it shrouded around itself. He would not deny that peculiar type of beauty.

But the spray of spikes that covered its back, and the long talon-like fingers, plus the multiple eyes, gave it a monstrous appearance. The Nyx were becoming known throughout the Five Realms. The Queen of them all was focused on making more of herself, and it meant the Nyx outside Attica were on a constant mission to snatch and turn mewling infants and the youngest of children.

It only worked with the young, after all, though the Queen was sure it would work for Maeve, who tasted of power and the gods gift that had brought the Nyx into being. She is already partway turned.

It was something Icarus did not wholly understand, and yet, it was not his place. His was to serve Ninack, and all the god desired. Soon, when the Ascent occurred, there would be nothing but the darkness, and all that dwelled within it. Everything would be restored to the blessed, cool, silent dark from which all things had been born.

He made his way by memory to the inner chambers of the castle, then to an outer garden turning white with fresh snowfall. There he waited with the Nyx at heel. Waited and listened as fights broke out in the halls between the few remaining loyalists to Sebastian, and those masses who now followed Queen Maeve.

He wrapped a strand of copper hair around his fingers, and he listened, standing still, as snow flurried around him, unnoticed by any within the castle. There were those who peered out at the garden from high windows, but the shadows kept him hidden.

When the hours had faded and the dusk turned to the depths before dawn, Icarus summoned her.

The hair was Titania's, and through the link to her mother, Maeve Almeida came to his call.

She moved in a trance, her gold and black eyes glazed with the spellwork of his making. He could not help but speak as she neared. "You do not fear the storm?"

She regarded him serenely, still held bound. "It's clean."

He went to her, and she put a hand in his. He snapped the making around her wrist, binding her powers and sealing off access to the bond.

The original spellwork broke, the trance over, and the woman began to demand, tried to summon her suppressed magics. Snarled, "Who the hell are you?"

He stepped close. "I am the one who caught you, Maeve Almeida. Daughter of Queen Titania."

Understanding dawned in that gaze. "You're Fae."

"I am," he confirmed, and revealed all. That he had once belonged to the Fae Court. That he had been forgotten, through and through, and Kabira was his bondmate.

Which made her jump to the logical conclusion. "Are you saying you are Rodan's father?"

By then he was dragging her through the garden to the waiting Nyx, throwing her to the ground where it lurked in the shadows. "Your mother saw to it that title was stripped from me as well."

"If you want revenge on my mother, you should know I've never even met her."

"That matters little." He called to the Nyx. "I have completed my end of the bargain."

Maeve was pleading as the Nyx approached her, struggling weakly to push herself away. He watched it, and his heart was singing to see her in such pain. The twin image of Titania in such profound agony was sweetness itself.

It brought a true smile to his face.

"Good-bye, bond-daughter."

He opened a portal for the Nyx, who was cradling the hybrid creature as though she were the most precious of treasures. There was a tenderness to the motion that was the antithesis of all Icarus knew of these creatures. But before he could ponder on it, or further observe, it was gone, and so was she.

The portal closed, and the garden fell into quiet stillness.

Icarus turned his face up to the falling snow, letting it touch down on his face and melt against his skin. He did not mind the cold. Tartarus—the planet Titania had banished him to—was so blisteringly hot, even with his spells and enchantments to keep it at bay, that this was a blessing. A reprieve.

How he hated that world, and all it meant, but now it was going to serve a useful purpose. At last.

He smiled, looking up toward the tall walls of the castle. Somewhere up there were his son's rooms. I will make good on my promise.

Turning from the garden and the torrents of snow, Icarus went in search of Rodan, striding openly through the halls, trailing ice droplets where he tread. It took only a tendril of magic to ensure those guarding his son's rooms went and stayed unconscious.

Upon entering the royal chambers, Icarus regarded Rodan. His Fae son was sleeping, the rise and fall of his chest unmistakably at ease. It made him sick. How soft he had been allowed to become, when he should have been the most brutal of warriors.

Icarus would see to it.

"Wake up," he commanded, using pure magic to ripple along Rodan's outstretched hand, so it felt as though it were afire.

His son woke with a pained gasp, and before he could do so much as flick his gaze upon Icarus, his father had hold of him. Another making snapped around a Fae wrist, and Rodan made a sound of distress so pained that it nearly gave Icarus pause.

But he had made his decision thousands of years ago. There was no turning back after so long.

The cuff cut off Rodan's access to magic and the bond, and from the direction of the spellwork, it would also sever his connection to the Realms.

Clutching his head, his son bared his teeth and tensed, readying an attack.

"None of that, now," Icarus chided. He pulled upon the pathways leading him back to his cursed refuge of a world. "You're coming with me."

And with that, he pulled Rodan through to Tartarus, releasing him in the cell which had been especially designed for this occasion. His son crumpled to the ground, the smack of his palms and knees on the bare stone floor loud in the small space.

"Get used to this room," Icarus said. "You're going to be here a very long time."