Chapter 39

A ll the fae of the castle would be at the crowning ceremony, with many more coming in from the surrounding countryside. The fae from the visiting kingdoms had made their departures as soon as they could, not wanting to be caught in a kingdom of Cole's making, all too aware of his elemental, capricious, and fickle nature.

The Seeds had left presents of precious medicines, inks, and intoxicants, all distilled from rare jungle flora. The Sands had likewise left gifts: gold dust that could be fashioned into statues with a single blown breath, and valuable panels of marble lace. The Skies and Stones however, had left without so much as a word, clearly demonstrating their disdain for the new ruler.

In her rooms, Ember was being made up and dressed. She had tried to escape the ceremonies, to avoid seeing the look of condemnation in Ashe's eyes, or the wild triumph in Cole's, but it was impossible. Everyone would want to see the human who had helped her lover become ruler. Everyone would want to see what Cole did with her next.

To regain some measure of control, she had refused to wear the elaborate gown Mira prepared, all ribbons and ruffles and glittering sequins, saying she had no wish to draw attention from His Highness, the Sword-in-waiting. Instead, she had asked for something simple. Mira had conceded, providing a simple sheath in midnight blue that left one shoulder exposed, and a slit that showed the length of her thigh. It was still elegant but gave Ember much more freedom of movement.

That Cole now ruled the kingdom was without doubt, as there wasn't so much as a single guard waiting to escort her to the great hall. Perhaps now that the other kingdoms were gone, she was deemed free from potential harm, but perhaps it was because she now belonged to the Sword, and no one would dare to attack her. There was no way she would accidentally run into Ashe in the forest or anywhere else, not when he was to be imprisoned in the pendant until Cole's death.

She and Mira moved through the hallways, newly decorated with bunting and fresh flowers. Fireworks sparkled through every window, glamoured to appear in the glass to be viewed only from within the castle. When they came to the stone corridors, the common areas where all might tread, most of the surrounding fae were laughing and chattering together, all dressed in their finest. But there were others, the supporters of Ashe, sombre and grim, their footsteps dragging.

The hall had been magically extended once again. The tree stood in the centre, flames burning brighter than she had ever seen them, while the pendant pulsated within the tree trunk, looking like a glowing heartbeat. The room was warm, but a translucent barrier arched over the top, an oily swirl of rainbow colours dripping down the sides, an enchanted shell to protect the fae from blazing heat.

On a dais, stood the Adjudicator, Cole, and Ashe; Cole with exultation dripping from every pore, Ashe with his head held high, as regal as though it were he who was being crowned.

The crowd was immense, and yet as she stood among them, quietly to one side with Mira, Ashe looked directly at her. Her lips parted, and she drew in a shaky breath. His eyes were eloquent, not with condemnation that she had helped his team to defeat, but as though he understood and forgave her. His searing gaze, the press of bodies around her and the tree itself, heating the room with its warmth despite the protective barrier, were making her head spin.

"I need a breath of fresh air," she told Mira, who was deep in animated conversation with the fae next to her.

"I'll come with you, my lady," Mira said.

"Oh no, we'll lose our places. I'll only be a minute," and then at Mira's protestations, "Don't be silly! No one will hurt me. I'm practically a celebrity."

She slipped back through the crowd to the doors. The guards stepped aside, and she moved into the cool of the outer corridor with relief.

It was the first time she'd been alone in a long, long time. She threw a quick smile to a group of fae hurrying to the hall lest they be late, and they smiled back, calling their congratulations. Celebrity indeed, she thought. A week ago, they would rather have spat on her than smile at her.

Slipping into a quiet alcove, she asked for a guide, and when the light appeared, she told it where she wanted to go.

Then she took off her slippers and started running.

She wasn't sure exactly where Cole's room was located. She had only ever been taken there by magic, but the guide didn't falter or appear to be lost. It just whizzed ahead of her, slowing down to let her catch up, and then speeding off again.

She held her skirt in one hand as she ran, thinking how much slower she would have been with a tonne of frilly fabric holding her back. Down a set of steps, through a long gallery lined with paintings, paintings that looked vaguely familiar, and she wondered if they'd been copied from famous Earthly works. She couldn't remember. Cole had stolen those memories and replaced them with poisoned kisses.

Finally, she came to a dark hallway ending with a heavy oak door. She took hold of the iron door handle and gently turned it. The guide shot away, and she entered the room, shutting the door behind her. The scent of Cole's room enveloped her, redolent of leather, sex, and spices. It made her want to gag.

In normal times, she supposed guards would have been standing at the door, swords drawn, but they, like every other fae, were in the hall to witness Cole taking the pendant from the flaming tree and hanging it around his neck.

Except …

Ember put a hand in her pocket and slowly took out the pendant, laying it in her palm. The jewel was as orange as fire, but there lay a dark shadow within that turned and twisted, the old Blade that had been waiting to be replaced by the new.

Only now he was going to have to do his job just a little while longer.

It had been during the second game, the game of Air, when she had found herself alone as everyone surged outside to view the Winged Eagles being struck by white lightning, and then flying off to retrieve their golden apples. The white fog of Cole's power had hidden the guards from her view and she from theirs, and it was the work of a moment to wield the brush she had concealed in her pocket, and glamour herself invisible. Once away from the pavilion, she had drawn a simple pair of wings and flown back to the castle and to the hall of the flaming tree, trusting that the crowds caught up in the excitement of the game would conceal her absence.

She had been in such a hurry she hadn't even thought about what would happen if she were wrong. Would the tree burn her alive, as it had the Seeds fae on the night of the masquerade? It had come down to that—a decision between life and death, and she didn't care which, as long as she could make that choice herself, to have control over her destiny.

As she'd moved closer to the tree, the flaming leaves and branches had blazed higher. But it was just a gentle radiating heat that warmed and soothed her. She'd simply walked to the tree, taken the pendant down, and glamoured a new one to take its place.

She'd dithered then, wondering if she should just use it then and there, but she'd decided against it. She wanted Ashe to have the pendant. Ashe would be the best choice as ruler. He was considered, thoughtful, just. If he won the games, he would send her back, she was sure of it. But if Cole won … she couldn't let him have it, she couldn't.

So, she'd hidden it under the mass of white roses at her windowsill, and flown back to the game, just in time to see Broude fall, and Cole's team achieve victory. No one had missed her. No one had asked where she was except Mira. She would have tried to leave after the third game, but she was constantly under surveillance, and the only place she was certain Cole would be was on the dais at the ceremony. Now was her last chance, her only chance.

She moved to the mirror and said, "Please show me where I came from."

She'd only ever seen the mirror showing the Earth cityscapes that Cole admired so much. This one was no different, a night in a distant place, with tall lighted structures and a building shaped like a needle, rising higher than the rest. The glass turned a smoky grey, and the city faded. As though she was on the back of a winged horse looking down between the clouds, she saw a street below her, the houses new, gardens carefully tended. She didn't recognise it. It frightened her.

The pendant twitched in her hand as though it knew she was about to call on it, and she gathered her strength and dropped the chain around her neck. The pendant fell against her breastbone.

The ground gave a mighty wrench, flinging her to the ground. Timbers split above her, the stone floors underfoot groaned, and there appeared a crack in the wall as though a tremendous axe had wrought it apart, biting in deep. She screamed, hands covering her head lest the ceiling fell in. And then came a voice, a terrible, hysterical cry resonating throughout the castle …

"Where is she?!"

Ember struggled to her feet, but the ground pitched as though she were standing on the deck of a ship, and she had to grab the post of Cole's bed for support. For an instant, the mirror flashed and showed her reflection, wide eyed and dishevelled, the pendant glowing softly against her skin. There came another unearthly shriek, and she realised Cole knew. He had seen her through the mirror. He knew she was in his room and what she was about to do.

"Show me where I come from!" she screamed at the mirror, and the power of the pendant forced it to show the street, the inconsequential street that meant everything. "Tana, please, my Blade, rip the veil between our worlds and send me home."

The mirror cracked. Light poured from within, illuminating Ember with sunshine from another place, throwing the forever twilight room into light.

The door crashed open and rebounded against the wall. Cole stood in the doorway, no longer the golden-haired, handsome fae for whom she had fallen, but a twisted, unearthly representation of the worst of humanity: hate, rage, terror, horror, and death. And behind him, a darker shadow in black, giving her courage.

In two strides, Cole was across the room. He reached for her with fingers like claws, but the power of her Blade protected her, and he shrieked and jerked his hands back, his skin already raw red and blistered from the protective shield shimmering around her.

The mirrored glass split further apart. She took one last look at Cole, twisted with rage and pain, and at Ashe, tall, calm, resolute. And then she stepped forward, into the crack, into the veil between her world and theirs.

Cole's shrieks cut off as soon as she had stepped through. A shimmering empty stretch of nothingness surrounded her, that stretched on and on and on.

"Tana." Her voice was muffled, strange and insubstantial, the sound of a soap bubble popping in silence. "Let them not follow me."

The veil became thicker, more substantial, a fog that became like porridge, and she fought to move, her arms and legs trapped by viscosity, the sludge creeping up her torso, crushing her ribs. It felt as though her heart was struggling to pump her lifeblood, and she struggled for breath, her lungs constricted. The veil was no longer a thick white cloud, but shades of mottled grey, and she understood the colour was changing because of her, and if she didn't get out, she would die.

She forced a leg forward, as though she were wading through thick mud, dragging the other forward. Another step. And then …

She fell out of the veil and onto a road, a backpack landing next to her. At once, a stream of memories came blasting into her mind and she recoiled, a hand to her head, crying out with the pain of remembering. Sunshine blazed through her closed eyelids, and she sucked in a shaky breath and then another.

There came a roar, a familiar throaty roar of a Mustang, and a car she knew drove slowly past the cul-de-sac, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

She was back. She was back.