36
I woke with my head on something soft.
I rubbed my cheek against it, trying to determine what it was. A pillow? But no, the rest of my body was sprawled on cold stone.
I opened my eyes a crack. Rich brown velvet stretched in front of me, culminating in…a hand.
I was lying on Talfryn’s corpse.
My head spun. What had happened? I stayed still despite my revulsion, keeping my eyes slitted open the barest amount and listening to the room around me.
It seemed not much time had passed. Oriana was stalking away, her mouth set in a grim line. Osric sat on the throne, laughing as he accepted a glass of wine. Beside him, Kallen stared at me, looking shaken.
The king gestured, and Drustan rose to his feet. “You have proven yourself loyal, Prince Drustan. If there should be a third incident, though…”
Drustan bowed. “There won’t be, now that the true traitors have been rooted out.” He returned to stand with the members of his house, and he didn’t look at me even once.
Osric clapped his hands. “Bring the entertainment!”
A group of nearly naked Underfae and humans flooded in. Some of them posed artfully, displaying their bodies, but others trembled, standing with slumped shoulders and bowed heads.
“The trial season has concluded, and the strongest have survived. These are my offerings to you. Use them as you see fit.”
Triana was there, I realized with horror, dressed in a diaphanous purple robe and visibly shaking as a Fae lady approached her. My rage increased as revelers began groping the nearest servants, then boiled over as Osric leered at a collection of terrified-looking humans. Triana and the others had been freed from the brothel. They should not have to descend into this hell again.
I couldn’t move, though. The Fae would see that I was alive, and the next time they tried to execute me would certainly be more successful.
The Shards were taken away as the drinking and carousing began.
Osric summoned one of the human women. Her head was freshly shaven, and the taupe gauze wrapped around her breasts and hips hid none of the elaborate, curving scars and fresh scabs that covered her body. It was the new girl, I realized sickly. The one Triana had greeted yesterday, no doubt reassuring her that she was safe at last. Instead she was here, once again about to be subjected to the king’s cruelty. She kept her head lowered as Osric settled her on his lap and began stroking his hand up the inside of her thigh.
I could just hear his next words. “You thought you were free, didn’t you?” He pinched her leg, and she mumbled something in response. Apparently he had decided not to remove her tongue yet. He laughed gleefully. “Oh, it’s too funny.”
Nausea churned through me at his sadism, and as it did, my veins pulsed with something hot and angry. I stilled, reaching for the sensation again.
Liquid heat poured through me, as if my blood sparked with fireworks.
Caedo quivered against my arm, radiating pure joy.
What’s happening? I asked the dagger.
You passed .
What do you mean?
You have power now.
My fingers throbbed with energy. I felt full to bursting with that strange fire. What power?
You are Blood House reborn.
I finally comprehended what I’d heard in the vortex. The Shards had given me the powers of Blood House because I had undertaken all the trials by Lara’s side, aided by the dagger’s magic. Now that hungry energy pulsed through me, linking the dagger closer to me than ever before. We were inextricably bound, fueled by the same heat.
What did this mean?
Was I immortal now, too?
Yes , Caedo said.
My mind spun. It was too much to contemplate.
I opened my eyes a bit wider, wondering when someone would come to remove the bodies and discover that I was, in fact, alive.
Then I saw the face of the woman perched on Osric’s knee, and the world fell away.
My whimper was muffled by Talfryn’s velvet tunic. I stared, wondering if my eyes or my memory had failed me. But no, it was definitely her, the same heart-shaped face and hazel eyes I had known almost my entire life.
Anya.
She was thin and haggard now, and the scars Osric had carved into her twined over her entire body. Her right cheek was marred by a narrow spiral of raised skin, and her neck trickled blood from a new injury. Her eyes were flat, her posture slumped. It was as if she had retreated inside of herself, as if she didn’t even feel Osric touching her.
That was why she had disappeared in the bog without me noticing. She hadn’t drowned or been eaten by the Nasties. She had been abducted by the king’s minions because she was beautiful. Because he wanted her.
I almost surged to my feet, but before I could do more than stiffen, I heard screams from outside the throne room.
A servant burst in. “Nasties,” she panted, pointing at the door.
Seconds later, a tide of monsters surged through.
They flapped, crawled, and slithered, hundreds of them, ranging from a huge golden snake to the horned swordsmen I’d faced before. They shouted and howled in glee as they began clawing and chewing their way through the assembled Noble Fae.
I was scrambling to my feet, desperate to save Anya and find Lara, when a group of soldiers clad in the livery of Fire House burst in through a different door and immediately engaged Osric’s guards.
The rebellion was happening after all, and apparently not all of Drustan’s forces had been slain. He drew his own sword and lunged at Roland as his troops poured into the room.
A loud creaking sound echoed through the space as the trapdoor in the middle of the throne room opened. Dozens of faeries in Earth House livery poured out from the hidden tunnel I’d once explored on the way to the brothel.
Selwyn had lied.
With his final words, with his grueling confession, he had lied. Not only to protect his family, but to preserve this. The final attack, made possible by his secret golden key. The end of Earth House’s neutrality. He had died knowing the revolution would go on without him.
I hoped he was watching from the afterlife and smiling.
No one noticed me crouching next to three corpses. Noble Fae fought Underfae while the Nasties battled their way forward, trying desperately to reach the king. He wasn’t warded against them, only against the five houses…
My heart thumped hard in my chest.
Five houses.
I’d seen the ritual, had watched as the wards were renewed with the blood of Fire, Light, Void, Illusion, and Earth. There had been no need to ward against Blood, because Blood House no longer existed.
Now it did.
Caedo slithered down my arm, forming a perfectly sharp dagger in my hand as I stood and stalked towards the head of the room, where Osric shouted orders from behind his throne. I couldn’t see Anya anymore, but I would find her later. There was a death to claim first.
Someone stepped into my path. I looked up into shocked midnight-blue eyes.
“You’re alive,” Kallen whispered. His controlled mask had fallen away, and there was a strange, intense emotion on his face as he reached a trembling hand to cup my cheek.
Dark crimson power coiled in wisps over my skin, and I saw the moment he realized what I had become. He swallowed.
“Move.” I needed to get to the king.
His sword flashed, and I flinched—but he was blocking a blade that had been slicing towards me from behind. My attacker’s weapon went spinning to the ground, and then Kallen plunged his sword through the heart of the Light House soldier who had tried to kill me.
It was the second time I’d seen him murder someone in this room, but this time he was anything but calm. He was breathing hard, and his eyes burned with rage. And he’d done it…for me.
“Go,” he said roughly, tearing the opal brooch from his tunic and flinging it to the ground. “And good luck.”
I didn’t question his actions; there would be time for that later. I continued towards the dais, where Osric still cowered. Before me, Illusion and Light soldiers clashed with Fire and Earth rebels. Blood painted the floor, making the footing slick, but I darted through the chaos with ease. My small stature had become an asset at last.
More soldiers poured in, these ones clad in Void black. They approached the Earth troops…and fell in beside them, fighting together against the king’s forces.
Drustan had been right about Void House plotting its own coup. Perhaps they hadn’t meant for it to happen like this, but here they were, ready to kill. And there Kallen was, stabbing his sword through Roland’s chest while Drustan retreated from the Light prince’s latest blow. For a moment the two of them stared at each other. Then Drustan nodded, and they began fighting back to back.
I still burned with rage at Drustan, but now I understood what I hadn’t before. He’d known there were more Fire and Earth troops. He’d known the Nasties awaited the signal to attack. Perhaps he had saved his own life from selfishness…but perhaps he had saved it because he’d known he would be needed when the battle finally broke.
I still didn’t think I could forgive him.
Something flashed in my peripheral vision. An axe, slicing towards my head. I wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge. If only he were slower…
Then, miraculously, he was. The soldier’s arm descended sluggishly as his eyes gradually widened in shock.
Blood magic affected bodies. Which meant I affected bodies.
I willed him to stop entirely, and he did. Garnet power raced over my skin as I focused on guard after guard, willing each one to stop fighting so rebels could dive in for the kill.
Soon I was all alone at the back wall a mere twenty feet from the king’s dais. He stood behind his throne, flanked by two guards, but though he didn’t carry a sword, his upraised hand was weapon enough. Any rebels who charged him grew disoriented, stumbling towards death. The throne room was warded against the use of all magic except his—and mine.
The Nasties were getting closer, but I couldn’t wait for them to reach the king. With every second more rebels were slain by the combined Illusion and Light forces.
I summoned the full, roaring strength of my new magic and willed his guards to stop.
They froze with swords still raised. Osric continued casting illusions, unaware his protectors were no longer capable of movement. I sprinted towards him, praying he wouldn’t hear my footfalls.
I leapt onto the dais and stabbed the guards one by one as Caedo sang in my mind. The dagger feasted, and the drained bodies crumpled silently. I was just behind Osric now, my nose nearly touching his brocaded ivory tunic. He smelled like sickly sweet death.
I reached around him and slit his throat.
Osric collapsed beside the throne, clamping a hand onto the gushing wound. Each pulse of his heart sent more blood pouring over his fingers. His stunned violet eyes met mine. For the first time in months of cruelty and suffering, he looked horrified.
I smiled down at him.
A brutal, vicious joy slid through my veins, intensifying with every spurt of blood. Osric tried to stand again, but I grabbed my skirt with my free hand, lifting the gauzy fabric so I could kick him in the chest. He fell onto his back with a gurgling cry.
Someone screamed.
The fighting stilled as all eyes went to the throne—to me, standing over King Osric as he writhed and choked. The king was still stanching the flow of blood with one hand, but he raised the other towards me. His fingers were trembling.
Then he disappeared.
I gasped, alarm jolting through me as I looked frantically around the now-empty dais. Could he teleport? Where and how—
Feel , Caedo said in my mind, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. Don’t look .
Dark red power still wisped over my hand, curling around the hilt of the dagger and playing with my fingers. It pulsed, drawing my attention to the beat of my heart. I became aware of other hearts pounding in the room, a chorus I somehow heard without hearing as a new sense came alive.
A rapid, shallow patter came from near my feet, slowly moving away. King Osric’s heart, pumping out his dwindling life as he tried to crawl to safety. Weakened as he was, he’d still been able to cast an illusion.
As my eyes tracked the path Osric had taken, my new magical awareness brushing against the pool of blood he had disguised, I noticed Anya curled up in the corner of the room, just off the dais. Her terrified eyes met mine.
I raised my knife towards her in grim salute, then stalked after Osric. My boot hit his invisible leg, and I crouched to drive the dagger into his gut. The king’s body flickered back into existence as he screamed.
“For Anya,” I said, twisting the knife in his intestines. Caedo sucked in a deep mouthful of the welling blood, but not all of it—neither of us wanted the king’s suffering to be over yet.
Light’s and Illusion’s forces were trying to cut their way towards the throne, but the combined might of Fire, Earth, Void, and the Nasties stopped them. And some soldiers had stopped on their own, blades sagging as they watched the violence unfolding on the dais, their faces reflecting an array of grief, horror, shock…and hope.
Hope was an empty dream, or so I’d believed for most of my life. I’d let myself feel it again with Drustan, placing my fragile faith in his courage and nobility, in his heroism, in the power and resources a mere human would never be able to wield. Inventing a story that, in the end, he hadn’t been able to live up to.
Maybe that sort of hope was empty. But this kind? The kind I could force with my own two hands, with a blade sliding into my victim’s flesh, with a cry of furious joy on my lips?
This was better.
I stabbed Osric on the right side of his chest, the dagger breaking ribs to puncture his lung. “For Mistei,” I called out as he convulsed.
There was blood everywhere. It pooled on the dais and saturated the king’s tunic and glittered on my exposed skin like the most treasured rubies. A drop trickled down my cheek to the corner of my mouth, and I licked it away. Shivering, incandescent energy filled me as I swallowed. It was like wine, but better—rich and complex, addictive not only in the taste but in the fear reflected in the king’s face as I swallowed.
I leaned in, meeting Osric’s shocked, pain-filled violet eyes. “For me,” I whispered.
Then I stabbed him in the heart.
Caedo drank this time, deep and long. I almost couldn’t tell where the dagger ended and I began; as Caedo took its fill, I felt sated, too. Like the blood was settling into my stomach and giving me new life.
The king’s pale flesh turned white and waxen. He jerked and fell still.
I heard a sound that wasn’t a sound, a pop of air I felt in my chest. The wards on the floor shimmered and then dissipated.
As I stood over Osric’s corpse, the Nasties nearest me stared with awe on their scaled and brutal faces. Soon a band of them had surrounded the dais with their backs to me. Protecting me, I realized.
The battle didn’t last much longer. Illusion’s troops fell into chaos and most of Light’s troops fled, and then the throne room was populated with rebels and survivors, with prisoners and the dead.
Drustan was staring at me from the same spot where he had knelt not even an hour before. His sword dripped.
For one gratifying moment, he looked afraid.
With the slaughter over, faeries moved around the room, conferring with one another, wiping their weapons clean, or covering the dead with sheets. The corpses would be disposed of according to each house’s tradition, though I wasn’t sure what would happen to the fallen Nasties, who lay uncovered. Was that by preference? Or was even their sacrifice deemed unworthy of the Noble Fae’s respect? Their own queen hadn’t even come to support them—another ruler content to let others pay the price of her politics.
Low wails sounded from a few faeries who grieved over the fallen, while others were loud and boisterous in their victory. Drustan grinned exultantly at one of his generals while Hector watched from the edge of the room, arms crossed and expression unreadable. Kallen whispered in his brother’s ear, though his eyes were fixed on me. He wasn’t the only one watching, and as the battle rage drained out of me, I grew uncomfortable under the weight of so many stares.
No one moved to cover King Osric’s corpse. He gazed at the ceiling with empty eyes, sunken-cheeked and pale as bone. Caedo purred in my mind, gorged on blood, and its heavy, sated contentment seemed to fill my own gut. I looked down at the sharp steel in my hand, feeling strangely like I didn’t belong in my own body.
That was my hand that slew King Osric. The tyrant was dead because of me.
Do you regret it? The voice in my head was familiar, though it seemed to come from a further distance than it had during my time in the maelstrom. The Blood Shard, speaking to me as I now realized it had during the trial.
No , I thought, too disoriented to even question how or why the Shard was communicating with me. I didn’t feel guilty for murdering Osric and never would.
I had enjoyed it in a sick, primal way, but I couldn’t seem to summon up guilt for that, either. Looking down at Caedo, I felt the strangest wish that some of the king’s blood remained for me to lick off the blade.
A soft sob caught my attention, familiar despite the distance and time. I turned my back on King Osric, searching out the person who had made that sound.
Anya was curled up on her side, body shaking.
“Anya!” As I hurried over, Caedo liquified and swirled around my arm, becoming jewelry once more.
Anya flinched and raised a hand to shield her face when I crouched next to her. “No, no…”
Her shaved head had contours I’d never realized existed. The dips and divots seemed strange to my eyes, like a truth I’d known all my life had suddenly shifted to reveal more facets. The puckered pink scars looked even more gruesome close-up, and there was a scab over her ear where the shaving razor hadn’t been wielded carefully enough.
My heart ached. “It’s me,” I said, tears flooding my eyes. She seemed so small and frail, a wisp of the person I’d known. “Anya, it’s Kenna. I’m here.”
She shook her head, refusing to look at me. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, but I got the sense she wasn’t truly seeing anything. “Not real,” she whispered. “You’re not real.”
“I am.”
“It’s a lie,” she said, still staring at the far wall. “You’re just tormenting me.”
“What?” I touched her shoulder lightly, but she cried out as if I had hurt her, so I yanked my hand away. “Please, Anya,” I begged. “Look at me.”
She shook her head again. “I won’t believe it,” she said, voice growing as dead as her eyes. “You can’t trick me anymore.”
Comprehension hit, and it felt like my rib cage had cracked open. She thought I was an illusion. She’d been Osric’s special “pet,” and he’d tormented her in more ways than I could imagine.
“Oh, Anya,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry. About what he did. That I wasn’t there to save you.” The tears slid down my cheeks now, salty grief collecting at the corners of my lips. “I’m so sorry.” My voice broke on the last word.
“Just take what you’re here for,” she said dully.
Her entire body was trembling, and her eyes had gone totally unfocused. I looked around as if the answer to this tragedy could be found in this bloodstained chamber. It couldn’t, but an Underfae was walking nearby with an armful of sheets. I took one, then gently draped it over Anya. It felt wrong to cover her with a burial shroud, but I wanted her to be warm, so I tucked it around her, taking care to leave her face, neck, and hands free. She was alive. This wasn’t an ending.
“You’re safe,” I whispered. “Osric is dead.”
Her eyelids flickered, but she still didn’t look at me. Her fingers curled around the edges of the sheet, pulling it closer.
“I’ll leave you alone for a bit.” It was agony to abandon her now that we’d been reunited, but she wasn’t going to believe me yet, and there were things to do. Conversations to have, plans to make before I could take her somewhere safe.
Lara approached then. The hem of her green gown was soaked in blood, and her hands were clasped tightly at her waist. There was a haunted quality to her expression. “Kenna?” she asked hesitantly. “How—how is this possible? How are you alive?”
Another friend hurt. Another one damaged by Fae cruelty.
“I’ll tell you everything later,” I said, standing on shaking legs. “This is…” I trailed off as Anya curled into herself again at the sound of my voice. “My friend,” I murmured. “From the bog. She wasn’t dead after all.”
Lara didn’t look like she was processing my words. “Oh,” was all she said.
Lara had just lost her brother, her magic, her mother, her house. I reached out to touch her elbow, and she didn’t react at all. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face blotchy from prolonged crying.
“I’m so sorry—” I started to say, but Lara shook her head sharply.
“No,” she said, voice rough. “Not here.”
“All right.” I swallowed the words of grief and rage that wanted to pour out. “Later, then. When we’re back…” I trailed off, not knowing what to promise. Where were we supposed to go? Not back home, certainly. Princess Oriana had denounced her. She was no longer a lady of Earth House, and I was no longer a servant.
Anya made a low, miserable noise. “Not real,” she whispered.
Lara stirred at the sound and looked down at Anya. “I can have someone guard her,” she said. Then fresh grief washed over her face. “Or…no, I can’t. Not anymore.”
Someone approached then, a familiar figure with the palest blue skin and eyes that swam with grief. “I’ll find people to guard her,” Alodie said, voice hushed. “To guard all of you.” She curtsied to Lara. “My lady.”
Lara looked surprised and touched by the asrai’s offer. “Thank you, Alodie,” she said, voice rough. “I—thank you. But Oriana won’t want you to do anything for me anymore. Or for Kenna.”
“Then for the human,” Alodie said, turning her wet eyes to me. “If you want it, I can at least do that.”
I nodded, nearly crying at this offer of friendship and fidelity. “Her name is Anya,” I said softly. “And thank you.”
Alodie nodded, then glided away to retrieve a pair of Earth Underfae. They moved into position on either side of Anya where she lay curled on the floor, guarding her in silence. Alodie rested a hand on Lara’s arm for a lingering moment before moving back into the throng to continue caring for the wounded.
Lara and I stared at each other. “I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“I don’t, either.”
We weren’t welcome in Earth House. We probably weren’t welcome anywhere.
Caedo curled tighter around my arm. You have a new home , it said. You can take them with you.
It took me a moment to understand. To Blood House?
A thrum of acknowledgment. You are Blood reborn .
I was only barely beginning to understand what that meant. But if it meant there was shelter for my friends and me, that was enough for tonight.
A familiar voice came from the center of the room. “Citizens of Mistei,” Drustan called out. “Gather round.”
My shoulders instinctively stiffened.
Everyone turned to face him, conversation dying. He raised his hands, beckoning people closer. Soon the survivors were gathered in a loose circle facing him. Lara stayed by my side, but no one else seemed to want to get too near. Even the small group of Nasties who had dedicated themselves to preserving my safety remained a healthy distance away, glancing at me nervously.
“Tonight has been hard and bloody,” Drustan said. “But we have prevailed.”
A ragged cheer greeted his words.
I felt a painful thickness in my throat as I took in Drustan’s handsome, determined face. Blood arced across his cheek and stained his tunic, and his hair was tangled from the fighting. With a sword sheathed at his hip, he looked like the noble, courageous hero of my dreams.
His revolution had saved us all. And he’d betrayed Selwyn and sacrificed me to make sure of it.
“The king is dead,” Drustan said. “We’re free.”
More cheers sounded.
I met Kallen’s eyes across the circle, where he stood among a group of Void nobles. He raised an eyebrow, and one corner of my mouth lifted in sardonic acknowledgment. The king is dead , indeed. The king had been killed. By me.
“Fellow citizens of Mistei,” Drustan pronounced, his voice echoing off the blood-spattered walls, “we have the chance to create a new life. A new court. We will open our doors to the world again. We will live where and how we choose. We will love who we choose.” His eyes finally found mine, but I stared back at him stonily.
Love meant different things to us.
As Drustan looked at me with a horrible, complex longing in his eyes, I was excruciatingly aware of the human woman curled under a burial shroud behind me, her head pressed into her knees as she rocked silently. One day Anya would heal. I would do anything to see it happen.
That was what love was. Not just romantic love, but any type of love. It was caring so much for another person that you would do anything to see them happy and whole.
Drustan looked away from me at last. “My friends, I have been planning this moment for decades.” His smile was both triumphant and gracious; I should have known all that charisma would make him a remarkable orator. “It has taken many of us working together in secret to make it come about. It has required great sacrifice. At the next feast we will raise a glass to each and every one of the fallen in gratitude for what they have done. But first, we have rebuilding to do.”
Hector pushed to the front of the crowd beside Kallen. His long hair was matted with gore, and there was a healing cut on the side of his neck. I realized now where he had gone during Drustan’s interrogation: to rally the Void troops, in the hopes that something might happen after all and they could join the fight.
“The first item,” Drustan said, “is to choose a new ruler.”
Hector and Kallen exchanged a glance. A wave of cynicism washed over me. I knew exactly who Drustan would suggest, and while once I would have thought it a wonderful thing, I was no longer so sure. Ruthlessness needed to be tempered with mercy, and he hadn’t displayed much mercy lately.
“I suppose you want to be king,” Hector said.
“I would be honored to be king.” Drustan pressed a hand to his chest. “After all, I have sacrificed for years to make this happen. But for us to overcome Osric’s poisonous legacy, the houses must choose together.” He turned in a circle, arms outspread. “My friends, I humbly offer to be your king, if you will accept me. If any other candidates wish to nominate themselves, please do so now.” He clearly didn’t expect anyone else to, since he was unquestionably the leader of the rebellion.
Hector stepped forward. “The eloquent Fire prince isn’t the only one who has been working to overthrow Osric. I have been preparing with my house in secret, and we were happy to lend our aid today.”
“You never allied with me,” Drustan said with sharp-edged friendliness.
“I knew what would happen to your allies. After all, we witnessed what happened to Lord Selwyn.”
Lara made a soft, grief-stricken noise.
“He pledged his troops,” Hector continued. “He stood by your side, and you betrayed him. You gave him up to Osric, and then he died for you.”
Uneasy conversation rose throughout the hall as Drustan’s cheeks reddened. “You know nothing of it,” he said. “We discussed this possibility. The boy was willing to give his life.”
“Was he? I heard he seemed surprised when he was brought in.”
“He was an excellent actor.”
“So a sixteen-year-old boy well-known for his soft heart agreed to die just so you might survive to be king?”
Lara sobbed loudly. I wanted to hug her, but what right had I to offer comfort? I had sent Selwyn to Drustan and thus to his death.
“The boy was an idealist,” Drustan said. “As am I.”
“I don’t see idealism,” Hector sneered. “I see opportunism.”
“If you had worked with me these last decades instead of seeking ways to undermine me, perhaps you would see differently.”
“I was working with outside forces. Elsmere is Void House’s ally now; under my direction, they would have struck Osric at Samhain.”
So what Lothar had speculated in the brothel was true—Drustan had found a way around the king’s ward with the Nasties, but Void had been working on its own plan to kill Osric. I looked at Kallen again, trying to read his stoic expression. He’d been speaking with Elsmere’s faeries at Beltane—possibly as a direct consequence of the information I’d provided—but he’d presumably been balancing schemes on top of schemes, an array of possibilities and alliances to cultivate. Playing the king’s spy while plotting to end him was a more dangerous and complicated game than I could imagine.
“Is Elsmere Void’s ally or Mistei’s ally?” Drustan asked. “And how convenient for you that my people paid the price before you had to put any proof behind these bold claims.”
“Enough.” The snapped command came, surprisingly, from Princess Oriana. Her golden hair had come undone, but there was no blood on her dress. She had not fought. Not for the rebellion, not for Mistei…not for her daughter.
I hated her for it.
“This bickering is pointless,” she said. “Light and Illusion will regroup and present a new candidate for the throne. Either you come to an agreement of some kind, or the entire court will fracture.”
“I will be king,” Hector said.
Drustan stalked forward until they stood only inches apart. “No, you won’t. Oriana, who do you support?” His tone implied Oriana’s choice should be easy, that she should choose the prince her son had given his life to help.
“Earth House remains neutral.”
Lara stiffened. I understood the feeling. Selwyn had died for this cause, had sacrificed himself to end the rule of a tyrant, but his mother still refused to participate in the battle?
“What?” Drustan turned on her. “Your son stood beside me.”
“And died beside you.” There the bitterness was, seeping through her cool facade. “Regardless, I will not throw away millennia of heritage because of personal sentiment. Earth House remains neutral.”
Hector smirked. “So Void supports me, Fire supports you, and Earth stays neutral. That leaves us evenly split.”
“Not quite.” Drustan’s eyes found me in the crowd, and my heart sank. “You may not have noticed, Hector, but if you were near the front of the fighting, you would have seen that Kenna was the one who slew the king.”
“I saw.” Hector barely glanced at me.
“Why was she able to approach him?”
“Because she’s human.”
Drustan shook his head. “Human, but sworn to Earth House. As a servant, she shouldn’t have been able to hurt him. And as a human, she shouldn’t have survived the Shards at all.”
As if recalling my execution, Hector frowned and studied me.
“Kenna,” Drustan said, “show them your power.”
The secret would be out soon enough anyway. I raised my hand, and bloodred light shimmered over it. Gasps and exclamations sounded as faeries backed even farther away from me. I clenched my jaw and focused on Drustan. Don’t move , I thought at him, putting all my will behind it. I imagined that simmering, liquid power stretching towards him and looping crimson bands around his arms and chest.
His eyes widened in surprise, and I could see him straining against invisible bonds. He was far more powerful than the guards I’d frozen and broke through my hold quickly. “Very good,” he said through gritted teeth. “The Shards declared Kenna worthy and gifted her with the powers of Blood House.”
“Impossible,” Hector said, so I sent a tendril of magic his way as well. My head spun as I imagined him motionless; the rush of power felt foreign and tiring to wield.
When Hector broke free, he looked even paler than normal.
“That means Kenna is now Princess of Blood House,” Drustan said. “She gets to decide who her house will support.”
I blinked. Princess? That hadn’t been part of my bargain with the Shards, had it? But if no one else existed in Blood House…I supposed I was princess by default.
“She has a house of one,” Hector said dryly, and I had to admit it was a reasonable argument.
“The Shards gave her that power. They must have meant for her to use it. So tell us, Kenna—who do you support as king?”
I stared at Drustan, at that grin full of secrets, at those warm gray eyes, at his outstretched hand. A month ago that look would have sent me running into his arms, and I knew he expected it to have the same effect now. I had been wildly jealous over him, after all. I had betrayed Lara’s confidence for him. I had slain the king to support his rebellion, even after he had directly caused my near death. Why shouldn’t he assume that I would support him?
He still didn’t understand humans. Or perhaps he simply didn’t understand me.
“Blood House abstains until you prove any of you are worthy to rule.”
Gasps went around the room. Drustan looked as if I’d slapped him, while Hector smirked. Even Lara glanced at me askance, and Kallen’s jaw had dropped in outright shock.
“What more proof could you possibly need?” Drustan asked tightly. “My revolution has freed us all.”
My eyes fell on Anya, still shivering in a ball in the corner. “Not all,” I said, feeling the stab of grief and fury again. “You’ve made it clear you know how to scheme and kill, but what do you have to offer when the violence is done?” I gestured around the room at the sheet-covered corpses, all those who had fought or died for him: Noble Fae, Underfae, Nasties, humans. “Their blood is barely cool and all you can think of is your crown.”
My latest words sent the gathering into an uproar. Faeries were shouting over one another, expressing various opinions about Drustan’s virtues, Hector’s power, and how a human upstart could dare question the wisdom of the Noble Fae.
“Someone has to take power now,” Drustan said. The warmth in those eyes had turned to cold ash so quickly—but his fire had never truly burned for me, had it? “Light and Illusion will regroup, and soon. We need a leader.”
It was probably true, but I couldn’t bring myself to give him or anyone else the throne right now. I’d thought I’d known Drustan before this bloody night, but he’d proven that vision of him to be a na?ve, love-addled fantasy. How could I throw my trust behind him, knowing how long tyrants could last in Mistei?
The Blood Shard had claimed me, given me its magic. I still didn’t understand why or how to fully use that power or what balance I was meant to restore, but obediently following whatever path the Noble Fae set out for me couldn’t be what the Shards had hoped for. Besides, Drustan had proven he would sacrifice anyone for his cause.
Maybe he was right to. Maybe that was what revolutions needed. But what came after the revolution?
“How will you liberate the humans?” I asked. “And the Underfae, will they have a say in your new court? What rights will you give them, or do they have no purpose except to serve you?” Belatedly I glanced at the Nasties who had protected me earlier. A large golden snake stared at me from three solemn green eyes. “And the Nasties, what of them? They helped bring you this victory.”
Drustan stalked towards me. “Have you lost your mind?” he demanded. “Now isn’t the time to be discussing any of that.” The snake slithered in front of me, baring razor-sharp fangs, and Drustan stopped. “We can discuss this later,” he said, holding up his hands as if trying to placate both me and the snake. “Once my rule is established.”
“If we aren’t unified from the start, how is this different from Osric’s rule? You said you wanted a new world where everyone is free and equal. Prove it.”
We locked eyes, frozen between hate and love, passion and betrayal.
Drustan turned away. “Perhaps Princess Kenna needs to learn more Fae history before making such proclamations.” The words were laced with condemnation. “But it’s been a tumultuous night, and she is obviously not thinking clearly. I move for the house heads to reconvene tomorrow, when tempers have cooled and everyone is prepared to treat this matter seriously.”
“My position will be the same,” I informed his back. He stiffened but didn’t face me again.
“As will mine.” Hector studied me with a mixture of calculation and respect. “If Princess Kenna wants proof of who is most worthy to rule, then I will provide it.”
“Light and Illusion will attack,” Drustan said. “As soon as they regroup, they’ll want to reclaim the throne.”
Hector shrugged. “Let them. I’m willing to fight.”
“As am I. But if your stance towards being king should change, let me know.” Drustan stalked past me, staying out of striking range of my new snake guardian. As he passed, he murmured, “If you wanted another war, congratulations. This is how you get one.”
Then he was gone, and I was left staring at an empty doorway.
The gathering broke up after that, and the Fae stumbled away to care for their wounded, dispose of bodies, and come to terms with what had happened. Alodie left with the rest of the Earth contingent, casting me a worried glance over her shoulder. Eventually even the Nasties slithered away, presumably to report to their queen.
The throne room was still and quiet. Osric’s corpse lay uncovered on the dais, waiting for someone to decide what to do with him. I inhaled the lingering scent of death, wondering what to do with myself.
Caedo crooned an inviting song in my mind, sending vibrations into my arm. Home , it sighed.
Blood House awaited, but how would I even get inside? And what would I do once I got there? I was a princess with no court and no allies.
Except that wasn’t entirely true. Two people remained in the hall with me after everyone else had gone. Anya still rocked in her corner, and Lara stood silently beside her.
“I—I don’t know what to say,” I told Lara. “I’m sorry about everything. About Selwyn. About the Shards.”
Lara’s eyes were reddened, her dress was torn, and her hair tumbled in a wild tangle to her waist. She looked the complete opposite of the spoiled lady I’d met six months ago. “Thank you.”
We kept staring at each other.
“This may sound strange,” I said, “but do you want to—”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “Whatever it is, yes.”
I laughed through the sob that caught in my throat. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re my friend.”
Tears poured down my face as I pulled her into a tight hug. I cried into her shoulder, and she wept into my hair.
“What I was going to say,” I said when we finally separated, “is that you are welcome to become a lady of Blood House. I don’t know if it works like that or not, but you will always have a place to stay with me.”
Her pride must have stung at this reversal in our fortunes, but she nodded. “I would be honored.”
“Can you help me with…” I gestured at Anya, whose gaze was still blank. By every power in me, the old stubbornness and the new, strange magic, I would help her get well again.
“Yes,” Lara said. “Always.”
We managed to get Anya to her feet, supporting her between us. She went without much resistance, seeming to have retreated somewhere deep inside herself. As I adjusted my arm around her waist, I thought about the twists of life that had brought the three of us here. So much fear, so much pain. The future stretched before us, as uncertain as it was terrifying.
But hope was what we made it. I wasn’t going to wait for someone else to create that future for me. I was going to seize it with my own two hands, then carve it into a shape I wanted.
I lifted my chin, took a deep breath, then walked with my two closest friends towards Blood House and a new life.