Page 15 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Aurelia

T wo weeks passed. I went through the motions of my days with a growing sense of suffocation. Training each morning with Sonoma had become nearly unbearable as she began to show more and more signs of weakness. I realized now that those signs had been there all along; I just hadn’t seen them. Or hadn’t wanted to. But I couldn’t deny that she was deteriorating.

Lesha still hadn’t returned, but we didn’t talk about it. I didn’t dare venture out to look for her, either. I couldn’t imagine what Sonoma’s condition would become if I used the wards now.

I shook off a chill at the thought.

Together, Sonoma and I harvested the crops inside the greenhouses then turned the soil for the next planting. The manual labor did little for my mood but helped burn off the worst of my anxious energy.

I spent my evenings in the library, warming myself with my own furyfire and getting lost in the novels Lesha had found on a scouting mission a couple of years ago. We’d gone looking for books about spells and curses. Instead, we’d found love stories with scenes so scandalous I’d had to read them alone under the blankets. I’d never cared for reading growing up, but it was the only escape I had left.

The season slid fast toward winter. But more than that, there was a strangeness to the crisp air that set me on edge. It felt like we were running out of time. Like the end of this curse was approaching—one way or another.

My thoughts drifted again and again to the Obsidian’s last words. Heliconia feared me. It was ridiculous. Clearly a lie. Or the insane rambling of a dying creature with neither soul nor brain. I thought of Callan too. Our alliance. Of what my life would’ve been like without the curse—which only left me in a sour mood.

And even though I hated myself for it, I thought of Rydian. I’m the thing nightmares fear. I didn’t know what he meant exactly, but that glimpse of his power suggested he wasn’t bluffing. He was the only other fae I’d ever met who possessed power as big as my own. What could his power do against the dark queen?

What would it taste like if I let myself drink it in?

I shoved that thought away and glanced up at the gray sky.

The wind had picked up, plucking the leaves off the trees. They fell in large clumps, still green. There was no autumn here. Only summer—and then, abruptly, and harshly, winter.

With my hair blowing wildly, I collected the last of the clean sheets from where I’d hung them to dry in the courtyard this morning. In a desperate attempt to distract myself, I’d thrown myself into the work of keeping up the castle.

Sonoma had tucked herself away in the study for the afternoon. Lately, she’d resorted to searching the old texts from the royal temple’s collection for some clue about what we might do to turn things around. I’d spent the curse’s first year doing the same thing, scouring the royal library and looting every home in this city that contained books, and turned up nothing at all. I wasn’t going to punish myself twice. Instead, I planned to spend the days wearing myself out until my brain could no longer torture me with the reality of my situation. And when that failed, I’d lose myself in someone else’s story. One where the heroine always found her own happy ending.

With the clean linens piled into one overflowing basket, I hefted it onto my hip and aimed for the east entrance. From there, it was a short walk and then a climb to the royal bedroom.

I let myself in and set the basket of sheets on the floor before approaching where the king and queen rested on the large four-poster bed.

“Hello, Mother.” I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Her skin was warm. Vibrant, even. She hadn’t aged a day in over seven years of slumber.

“Father.” I kissed his chin, the course salt-and-pepper hair of his beard tickling my cheek. It wasn’t my favorite, the bearded look, but it was his. Letting him keep it was the least I could do.

“And how are we today?” I asked, forcing my voice toward chipper.

Neither stirred as I replaced their bed linens, rolling each of them carefully left then right. It was a chore that took a considerable amount of skill and strength to perfect, but in just a few minutes, I’d stripped the old sheet and tucked the new one in without anyone getting tossed onto the floor in the process.

That had happened a lot in the beginning, giving a whole new meaning to the idea of “heavy sleepers.” At least, none of them snored. A castle full of snorers would’ve driven me crazier than the silence already had.

“The wind’s picked up,” I commented as I worked. “Winter’s coming faster than last year. This one might be colder, too. There’s something in the air. ”

I didn’t voice my fears: that Sonoma’s death was being heralded on the wind. That it was all happening too fast. And that the Fates, the goddesses who’d created the Aine in the first place, had abandoned her.

Abandoned us all.

Lesha once told me there was a chance the sleeping could hear us. Ever since then, I was careful not to burden them with things they were helpless to do anything about. It was my responsibility to save them. Even if remaining here to guard their sleeping forms meant never fulfilling the prophecy I’d been destined for.

Maybe I was doomed to fail them all.

Maybe Heliconia’s greatest victory would be forcing me to watch them all die slowly and realize there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Sleep well,” I said as I finished up.

Then I made my way to Lilah’s room.

“Hey, you,” I said, dropping a kiss on my sister’s forehead.

The lump in my throat had lessened over the years, but it was still hard to look at her and know she wasn’t going to sit up or answer me.

“I have fresh sheets for you,” I told her. “The lavender ones you like best.”

Lilah’s honey-colored hair was still braided from Lesha’s last visit with her, and a blue ribbon had been woven in; a perfect match for her eyes—if they ever opened.

I worked on changing her sheets, careful not to look too hard at the ribbon or think too much about what would happen when Sonoma’s magic finally failed.

When I was done, I lingered, talking about my trip to the Broadlands. I left out the parts about the Obsidian I’d killed or my run-in with Rydian and focused instead on the sights of the countryside. The Broadlands had proven beautiful, despite the dangers. Lilah would’ve loved the adventure of it all .

“And before you ask,” I said playfully, “there were no handsome princes your age along my way.” I sighed, remembering Lilah’s daydreaming. She’d dreamt of a fancy party of her own, complete with ball gowns and dancing. I refused to believe she’d never get her wish. “I’ll ask Lesha to bring a new ribbon the next time she does your hair,” I added as I tucked the blankets in tight. “She’s supposed to be back soon.”

The lie tightened my throat, and I paused, listening to the distant roll of thunder. Through the window, the fading daylight had already turned to shadows cast by swiftly approaching storm clouds.

Already, the temperature in the room had dropped, and a draft slipped through the castle.

It would be cold tonight.

At Lilah’s door, I paused and aimed my magic at the logs stacked inside the hearth. Black flames shot from my hands. The logs caught in a bright reddish-orange glow, the heat slowly warming the room.

I looked back at Lilah, double-checking the blankets I’d tucked beneath her chin. She didn’t need them, nor the fire. The curse kept them from succumbing to the elements; we’d learned that the third year when winter came to the kingdom.

No, the fire, the blankets…those were for my own comfort.

Slipping out, I moved on to the other rooms. Twenty-two bedrooms in all. Then there were the parlors, drawing rooms, meeting rooms, throne room, and finally, the ballroom. It was a monstrous undertaking—caring for the comatose. Lesha had cast a spell that first year preventing sheets from becoming dusty or in need of washing. But I couldn’t just ignore them entirely. So, I walked the rows of cots and beds, squeezing hands and murmuring comforting words to the sleeping Summer fae.

When the sun began to set, I went in search of Sonoma. In the study, reference books were piled high on the worktable below the window, strewn haphazardly and lying open to whatever page had caught her attention. But she wasn’t there. I glimpsed a drawing of a Vorinthian rune before turning for the door.

Retracing my steps through the castle halls, I aimed for her workshop instead. In the early years, she’d disappeared frequently. Sonoma was a solitary creature who valued privacy and hated crowds. All of the Aine were that way. What she and Lesha and the others did for me, staying here to protect Sevanwinds, wasn’t something I took lightly.

If she needed space, I gave it.

Usually.

Today, however, felt different.

I searched everywhere. The kitchen, the dining hall, the Great Room. I even retraced my steps and checked the royal bedchambers—sometimes she looked in on the king and queen when she thought I wouldn’t notice—but they were all empty.

I shoved panic aside and headed for the stables, which housed chickens Lesha had managed to bring through the wards a few years ago.

I hadn’t gone far when movement caught my eye.

Along the low garden wall, a black tunic blurred past as someone sprinted away.

“Hey,” I called, my voice ringing out in the silence.

When they looked back, I sucked in a breath at the sight of onyx eyes in a pale face.

Dread curled inside me.

An Obsidian.

Here.

Inside the wards.

For a moment, I stood there, stunned. Then it snarled, and my brain screamed at me to move.

I took off after it.

The rain clouds had grown thicker overhead, blotting out what little sunlight remained. The air smelled of a storm, and I could only hope it would hold off long enough to track the creature before the rain washed its scent away.

By the time I scaled the garden wall, the Obsidian had disappeared. I spun in a frantic circle, searching with my full senses. It couldn’t have gotten far.

Rosewood was a mile north where houses and shops sat in utter stillness—too many places for me to search before I inevitably lost the trail. On my right, abandoned fields lay overgrown with grass and wild corn that had sprung up in the absence of anything else planted. On my left, the Emerald Forest beckoned, as dangerous as it was majestic.

Near the woods’ edge, the black tunic flashed again, and my jaw tightened as I sprinted for where the creature had just vanished into the trees.

I followed, urged onward by desperation. Inside the forest, I slowed only a little, careful not to trip over tree roots and stray branches. Trees flashed by me in a blur of greens and browns.

Magic hummed inside me, begging to be loosed.

My stomach tightened as I thought about the creature running back to tell its master that it had finally breached our wards. Would it bring hordes of Obsidians, or would it bring her ?

Up ahead, a loud crack sounded, followed by a vicious snarl that could only belong to an Obsidian monster.

I pushed harder, and a moment later, I cleared enough of the trees to see it. The creature writhed on the ground, its ankle caught in a rabbit trap. The thing rolled side to side, howling in pain. Even from here, I could see its burnt, boiled flesh. The wards hadn’t let him through unscathed.

It was a mild comfort; not nearly enough.

I slowed to a walk, approaching carefully. My empty hands tingled with magic. I ground my teeth as I thought of Dorcha—hanging just inside the door to the kitchen. Useless now.

I’d have to rely on my magic alone.

Don’t get carried away. Interrogation doesn’t work if he’s dead , I reminded myself. Self-restraint is harder than self-defense.

I opened my palm, and a black spark erupted into a small flame that danced harmlessly along my skin. It might not hurt me, but it would melt him.

The Obsidian jerked its head up, eyes wide but not from fear. Fury, cold and determined, shone in the creature’s onyx gaze. A fae male’s eyes, once. And beneath all that determination and rage was victory. Smug bastard thought he was going to get away.

Despite the trap mangling his ankle, he climbed to his feet. “Hello, forgotten one.”

“You can wipe that smirk off your face because you aren’t going to live long enough to tell anyone what you just found,” I said.

His eyes gleamed, and he raised his chin. “Your defenses are failing. It won’t be long.”

“Those defenses nearly killed you.” I smirked, eyeing his blisters.

Not enough.

My magic whispered at me, singing through my blood. With one gesture, I could ignite him like the fire in Lilah’s room. I could drink his sorry life force in one gulp?—

“She comes for you. When the last of your fair friends are dead, she will arrive. And you will have nothing left to keep her out.”

My mouth went dry, but I did my best to keep my fear hidden. Heliconia knew I was alive.

“You tell that bitch to bring it,” I snarled. The flame in my hand flared brightly.

His eyes narrowed as he glanced from it back to me, but he didn’t move. “You would speak of the queen in that way?”

“She’s not a queen,” I nearly spat. “Besides, I survived one of her curses already. I’m not afraid of another.”

His eyes glimmered with something I didn’t understand. “That is your mistake. You should be afraid. You should be very afraid of what comes.”

Despite the magic roiling inside me, I suppressed a shudder.

Something brushed against my leg.

I looked down and found dark, thick shadows winding up my legs. I could feel them running over my skin like fingers. These were not a life force to drink. This was Heliconia’s twisted darkness—looking for a new host.

Urgency speared through me.

I lashed out with my flames, burning through the thick tendrils until I could wrench myself free. My eyes narrowed again on the Obsidian watching it all with smug satisfaction.

Screw interrogation.

This bastard was going down.

With a sharp cry, I conjured a ball of furyfire and prepared to burn him to ash. Before I could ignite him, a cloud of smoke erupted where the Obsidian stood. I doubled over, coughing as the smoke enveloped me and snaked down my throat.

From somewhere inside the dark cloud, the Obsidian laughed.

Bitter residue coated my tongue. I spat it out. More laughter echoed around me, and I jerked my head up, straightening and whirling toward the sound that came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

I hurled my furyfire.

It burned a narrow tunnel through the smog and landed in the grass, charring it to ash .

“Show yourself, asshole,” I demanded, but there was no answer.

I blinked, my eyes burning from the gray vapor that was finally beginning to clear. When it did, I could only turn in quick circles, searching for where the creature had gone.

The clearing was empty.

The rabbit trap was empty too.

I was alone.

The relief was quickly overshadowed by alarm.

The dark magic that flowed in the Obsidian’s veins was nothing more than a life force, a way to animate them from corpse to monster. In all my years hunting them or being hunted by them, not one of them had ever shown any sign they knew how to use that magic. But this one had done just that—and somehow disappeared in the process. Gone to tell his mistress he’d found a way in.

She’d waste no time sending more of them. Or coming here herself. Which only proved one thing: Even after seven years of a bleaker life than I could’ve ever imagined, things could absolutely get worse. In fact, they just had.