Page 9

Chapter nine

A Court of Light and Life

A pparently, magic was traceable. Lark’s magic was like his fingerprint, which meant it could be recognized, it could be tracked. And, since he was supposed to have been banished for another forty or so years or whenever his father forgave him, whichever came first, it was indisputable that his father had a trace on him. I was told that meant that if Lark used even a moderate amount of magic while in the immortal plane, anything more than a household chore or a simple glamour, his father would know. And that, apparently, would be a terrible thing.

Since Rook had been banished alongside him as well, for reasons that I still didn’t know, that meant Cass was the only Fae among us capable of using the full capacity of her magic. Therefore, she had to shadowstep all of us to the Court of Light and Life one at a time.

“Let’s get this over with,” she declared the next morning, clapping her hands together and heading straight for Rook. “One shadowstep to the Ivory Throne at your service.”

“Not the throne,” Lark interrupted, his tone warning. “Outside.”

Cass nodded.

“Are you alright?” Lark asked as I shuffled on the balls of my feet.

I turned to find him watching me warily, intense gaze fixed on my face.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Court of Light and Life sounds better than any alternative. Particularly, Blood and Bone.”

Rook snorted at that. Even Lark’s lips stretched up into a quick smirk.

“Ready?” Cass asked, reaching toward Rook.

“Don’t rumple my tunic,” he grumbled so Cass slapped him hard on the chest and they both vanished into thin air.

“When you meet them, it’s going to seem like they are the embodiment of all things good,” Lark spoke quickly. “Just remember, they aren’t all that different from us.”

“What do you—”

But Cass was back.

“Ready, Ren?” she asked, reaching out a hand, far more gentle with me than she had been with Rook.

I held Lark’s gaze for a beat longer before reaching out to Cass. The moment her warm hand enveloped mine, the world squeezed away. I kept my eyes closed this time, hoping that I wouldn’t feel so sick on the other end if I didn’t watch the world spin around me. No such luck.

I landed roughly, as always, but remained on my feet, even if I did take a few stumbling steps forward and nearly tumbled off a cliff. I probably would have if Rook hadn’t reached out to grab me at the last second, pulling me back against his chest.

“Ashes, Cass!” Rook cursed. “You didn’t have to take the novice to the edge of a cliff!”

“Oh, Ren, I’m so sorry!” Cass was shouting from where she had landed gracefully a few feet away. “I’m not used to shadowstepping someone that doesn’t know how.”

Rook held me a moment longer until I caught my breath and stepped aside. Then he released me.

“It—it’s okay,” I stuttered, still in shock as I peered down at the jagged rocks below.

We were in a desert above a canyon. Sand so white it almost looked like snow surrounded us. I could already feel it in the practical hiking boots Cass had summoned for me that morning, the coarse grains grating against my socks. And those jagged rocks below, they weren’t rocks at all. They were the towering spires of a city. A city built into the smooth rock around it. Gold glistened from rooftops, beautiful sandstone buildings glimmered beneath, and people walked between them but not like they had in the Court of Wanderers.

The pace was slower here, almost lazy. No one hurried about, rushing from one place to another. There were no gaudy orange jewels or varying shades offensive to the eye. It was all natural sandstone and gold and the people who strode about wore white gossamer gowns, long for the women, short for the men, so similar to the togas of Ancient Greece that I wondered absentmindedly if these Fae weren’t who the Greek gods had been modeled after. What lucky mortal had been given the opportunity to see this place of wonders all those centuries ago? Who wrote them down first? A Mycenaean singer, Homer, Hesiod?

Lark appeared then with Cass, straightening his sleeves as though the shadowstep hadn’t affected him at all. I shook my head to clear the thoughts of ancient Greek philosophers and artists long dead and wondered how many times he had done it now, if it had become as second nature to him as walking.

“When we get inside, find somewhere to hide, Rook,” Lark commanded and his companion nodded stiffly in response as we started walking around the cliff, making our way towards a set of steps carved into the side nearby.

I glanced at Cass, confused.

“Technically, Rook is forbidden from entering the city,” she said simply.

I gaped at her. Banished to the mortal plane? Forbidden from entering the Court of Light and Life? Who exactly was this quiet, stoic friend of Lark’s who had saved me from falling off a cliff just moments ago? I chanced a glance back at him but he wasn’t looking my way. He was staring out at the city below with something akin to sorrow in his expression.

The climb was torturous for a mortal such as myself. I didn’t have the stamina of the Fae and I was breathing harder and sweating worse than any of them by the time we made it halfway down. I stopped then, pulling my sweater up and over my head so that I was only in my tight gray racer back tank that matched my thin gray leggings.

Cass had chosen the ensemble herself, warning me that athletic attire, something that could breathe and withstand the heat, would be the most appropriate clothing for the journey and deciding upon gray to show that I belonged to no court. When I had bristled at that, she had taken my hand gently and explained that, while there was nothing she wanted more than to see me in black, I should take my time with the decision. Declaring yourself to be part of a court, wearing their colors, particularly when spending so much time with the royal family of said court, was no small decision. I decided not to tell her that her brother had already dressed me head to toe in the color of their court himself while we were in the mortal plane. It seemed like something that might start a fight and, though I was curious to see the results of that fight, it felt an unwise thing to start a fight between two siblings while the other two were trying to kill them. Or, at least, trying to kill Lark.

“Are you coming?” Rook asked, peeking his head back around the stone which they had all already passed ahead of me.

I took a deep breath and tied my sweater around my waist and nodded. He took one look at my exposed shoulders and grinned.

“Don’t,” I warned, and he just burst into a fit of laughter, reaching out a hand.

I took it, grateful for the assistance as the steps closer to the bottom had grown more and more rickety. Still, I couldn’t help but trail my fingers along the smooth sandstone as we passed it. The beautiful beige and ivory natural striped pattern was intoxicating, as it seemed to envelop the entire city within a sort of vortex motif.

When we finally reached the city below, we stepped onto a street that looked paved with sand itself, compacted and hardened but just as white and pristine as the loose sand blowing in the breeze on the cliffs above. Lark’s penetrating gaze passed over me once we were within eyesight of one another again, lingering on the part of my appearance that had changed. I didn’t dare tell him to stop. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to.

It had been a long time since any man looked at me how Lark always seemed to. And I didn’t mean the brief flares of desire. I meant the way he always examined me as if I had a puzzle etched on my face and he was forever missing one of the pieces. Like he was always curious about what I might do next and always surprised about what I chose. But he still didn’t trust me. I knew that because I didn’t trust him either. Not entirely. There were things that both of us weren’t telling each other but maybe we didn’t need to.

Rook pointed and Lark tore his gaze away from me and then we were moving and I could breathe again. I strode beside Cass on our way through the city. At first, she pointed out a thing or two, muttering a historical fact or cultural tidbit. This is the most famous jewelers in the whole plane. They have the absolute best olives here. There’s a woman who plays the harp at the top of the Tower of the Sun on the same day every year, some mournful lament, and no one knows why. But her commentary became less and less the deeper into the city we walked and then broke off entirely.

No one looked at us. No one stopped and stared as we passed, the Fae in their pure black that stood out in sharp contrast in this city of white, and me wearing clothes that so obviously did not belong in this place, sweating from the climb and huffing my way up the sand streets. I couldn’t have appeared more mortal if I’d tattooed the word across my forehead.

I guessed, from the direction we were walking and the surrounding buildings, that the Ivory Throne was the palatial estate just ahead of us, embellished with more gold than any of the others, huge golden gates cutting off the street just ahead.

“Bone Court,” a high, feminine voice cooed from nearby. I glanced ahead to find an ethereal-looking woman with long brown hair falling below her breasts, little pink flowers woven within it, standing on the other side of the gate.

“We are here to see Sophierial,” Lark said simply, his tone clipped compared to the girl’s melodic cooing.

“I am not permitted—”

“We seek refuge at the Court of Light and Life.”

Her jaw snapped shut. Her eyes widened just a fraction as she took us in then, all of us, those immortal eyes sliding over my companions and then landing on me. She gave a soft gasp of surprise.

“If you could fetch Sophierial—”

“Canis,” someone called out then, a soft and delicate voice.

I looked past the girl with the brown hair to see another striding up behind her, arms outstretched so that the long sleeves of her gossamer gown trailed behind her along with the train of her skirts. She wore a crown of ivy in her long auburn waves. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, leading up to her brown eyes. She looked young, even younger than us, but something in her eyes told me she was the oldest one here. Or, at least, close.

“Sophierial,” Lark replied, jaw clenched at the sound of his true name.

I looked between them, considering. She had called him Canis, not Lark, a name that he had claimed his friends called him. His words from before we shadowstepped away from the Court of Wanderers hit me then, a reminder, a warning.

When you meet them, it’s going to seem like they are the embodiment of all things good. Just remember they aren’t all that different from us.

“What trouble have you brought to my door?” Sophierial asked, her eyes sweeping over us in the same way her sentry’s had, lingering on me.

“We seek refuge,” Lark repeated and then added, narrowing his gaze to a point, “and hospitality.”

“Which you shall have.”

She clapped her hands and the sentry jumped to attention, standing straight and awaiting her orders.

“Canis, you may follow me to the dining hall. It’s nearing lunch and you must be starving from the climb. Semyaza, take the girls to the dressing room. Let them freshen up and find the mortal something… immortal to wear.”

With a sashay of her hips, Sophierial led Lark away. He glanced back at me once, lips pressed together and gaze hard, before following her into the estate. When they had gone, Cass and I turned to Semyaza who kept her distance from the Bone Court princess as she led us toward the opposite side of the manor. I realized then that I hadn’t the slightest clue when Rook had vanished. I looked back at the city behind us once more, wondering where he had gone.

The estate itself was nothing short of sheer elegance. The main halls, which Cass and I traipsed through warily, were arranged in a square surrounding a beautiful central courtyard which overflowed with crawling vines, porcelain statues, and marble fountains. Little offshoots from the hall opened up into larger concourses or separate rooms, all of which were light and airy, open and breezy.

The palace containing the Ivory Throne seemed to prefer not to use walls or windows when it didn’t have to. Most of the rooms were open on one side, furniture continuing into the outdoor area as though the atmosphere hadn’t changed at all. And truly, it hadn’t. Some magic kept the heat of the desert at bay, keeping the whole place at a consistently cool and comfortable temperature. But it brought the desert inside as well, in other ways. Carved from sandstone, this palace was not competing with nature, nor was it a refuge from it. It was one with its environment, capitalizing on the harsh vastness of the desert to bring out the beauty within the biome itself. It was an architectural wonder, a palace fit for the living gods within it.

I could have wandered the halls for hours, brushing my fingers over that smooth sandstone, eyeing every vine and bloom which boasted the Fae’s ability to create life where it did not thrive naturally, appreciating the sculptures and art adorning the walls and archways. But Semyaza was impatient with her role as attendant and hustled us into a room while muttering something about not keeping the Queen waiting. So I left the beauty of the estate behind and trudged forward into whatever the Queen of the Ivory Throne had waiting.