Page 12

THE NETHERWHERE SPILLED me out beneath a giant maple tree just beyond the drawbridge of the Summerlands castle. The green expanse behind me was riddled with dark craters, evidence of the continued Unseelie attack. I didn’t linger to survey the damage.

Using both hands, I reached for the hem of my skirt, hiked it up to my knees, and sprinted for the stronghold. Someone saw me coming, and the bridge began to lower rapidly. It crashed down, and I scampered across, punching through the thick bubble of the protective magical ward.

Inside, a uniformed page in the livery of Oberon and Titania’s realm was running into the foyer where I stood.

He skidded to a halt and bowed hastily. “Your Majesty,” he said. “I was sent to bring you to Oberon right away.” Before turning to lead me to the High King, his eyes flicked down to my bare feet and registered quickly-restrained surprise.

I let my skirts fall back into their intended shape and tried not to think about the soft slap of my feet on the flagstones. I probably presented an interesting sight, my dress and hair mussed from the fight, and my crown on as if I were playing Queen. Usually rulers reserved their crowns for wearing at formal events. Not that I really cared about idle gossip, but I could just imagine people whispering about how the new Carraig queen ran around with the Champion’s sword on her back, her crown on her wild hair, and no shoes.

The page took me straight to Oberon’s study, where the High King was pacing the carpet in front of his desk. He was the only one in the room.

I made a quick curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

“Finvarra used the Stone in the fortress,” Oberon said, dispensing with all niceties.

“Yes, he appeared during my coronation,” I said. I swallowed, trying to catch my breath after my dash into the castle. “I believe he tried to use it twice.”

Oberon held up a hand and looked past me. “Hold on, I want him to hear what you have to say.”

I twisted to see a slim man with long white hair entering the office.

My brows lifted. “Eldon?” I turned back around to look at Oberon.

The High King nodded once. “We have a new ally.”

I narrowed my eyes at the Fae sorcerer as he approached us. He skirted a look at me, his expression unreadable. Stopping a few feet away, he bent in a quick bow. He was here, which meant he’d abandoned the Unseelie as he’d promised, but I wasn’t sure I trusted him.

“Your majesties,” he said.

“Now, tell us exactly what happened,” Oberon said to me.

“Of course, Your Highness,” I said. “Finvarra appeared in the auditorium of the fortress during my coronation ceremony. He had an object that must have been the Stone of Fal, and he appeared to try to invoke its power.”

Oberon stopped me, asking me to describe the Stone. I gave him as thorough a description as I could recall.

My gaze found Eldon as I continued. “Something happened when he tried to use it. I went to . . . another place. I inhabited the body of a female warrior, in a place and time that felt, well, old. Ancient, even. Others had similar experiences. In fact, I believe it’s possible every Carraig went to that place, too.”

Eldon turned to Oberon. “I believe it’s the god blood, Your Majesty,” he said in his thick brogue. “The Fomoire, is my guess.”

A bell went off in my head. The Fomoire were the predecessors to the Tuatha De Danann. Actually, the Fomoire were the gods who were predecessors to the Tuatha’s predecessors. In the legends, the Nemedians, seafaring gods, had eradicated the Fomoire. Then the Tuatha had come along to do the same to the Nemedians. These were stories, or they had been, until I’d learned that the Tuatha weren’t just myths. They were very real.

Oberon’s forehead creased. “Describe exactly how it felt,” he said to me.

I explained the shockwaves, the feeling of disappearing from my surroundings and then coming back. “And I believe Finvarra tried again. Same result. He looked extremely angry by the time he left. He used a portal jewel to escape before we could get to him.”

The High King’s eyes gleamed, and his lips parted as his breath came quicker. “Do you realize what this means?”

“Finvarra has used two of his three chances with the Stone,” Eldon said. “And the Stone seems not to work on the Carraig.”

I inhaled a sharp breath.

The Fae sorcerer continued, “And further, it seemed to have activated the god blood in the whole population of Carraig and others with stone blood.”

I shook my head. “What does that mean? It felt like a body-switching hallucination, and one that we can’t control. What good does that do us?”

Oberon’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “It means the ancient blood runs through your people. It means you have the power of gods. If you can learn to use it, you can fight—”

“The Tuatha De Danann as equals.” I finished his sentence in a whisper. “Or something close, anyway.”

The High King and Eldon stared at me.

“But I don’t know anything about it. I have no idea how to use it,” I said. “If it’s true, I don’t know that it actually carries any power at all.”

“It does,” Eldon said, his voice low. He cut a sharp look at the High King before locking his intense gaze on me. “The Fomoire didn’t die. I heard whispers of this eons ago, that they disappeared underground to slumber, waiting for the time when they could awaken their power and take their revenge. Patiently abiding until the time came for them to take revenge on the usurpers who took their land. To emerge and reclaim their place as the gods of the realm. The god race who defeated the Fomoire is now gone, but the Tuatha took their place.”

Shivers cascaded up my spine, over my scalp, and down my arms.

The door opened again, and I glanced at it, still trying to process what Eldon had said. When Jasper appeared in the doorway, all I could do was gape for a second or two. He gave me a broad smile, and I pulled my lips in between my teeth and clamped down to hold in the little squeal of happiness that wanted to leak out. Warmth spread through me.

“Glasgow here reported a strange phenomenon around the time Finvarra would have been making his appearance in the fortress,” Oberon said.

“Yes,” I said. “He has some stone blood, even though he is—was—a Duergar subject.”

My eyes followed Jasper as he joined us. I wanted to run to him. I pressed my hands to my sides, my fingers itching to reach for him and tangle in his hair. I still hadn’t completely gotten over seeing him dead on the lawn outside the castle. I was forever in Melusine’s debt for bringing him back.

“Aye, Your Highness,” Jasper said, his Old World accent a much milder, softer version of Eldon’s. “I felt myself leave my body. I stood on a hilly green holding an unfamiliar sword, facing people I’d never seen before. The armor I wore was in a very, very old style. Primitive, almost.”

“The descriptions match,” Eldon said. “From the reports, it sounds as if it may have affected all those with enough stone blood to form armor.”

“We need to discover what this so-called god blood can do,” Oberon said. “And we need to do it quickly.”

Something suddenly occurred to me. “Your Majesty, Marisol Lothlorien spoke of more New Gargs. She said there were more of us in hiding, waiting to be brought back into the fold. To be honest, I wasn’t sure it was true. But if it is, that means there could be even more of us who can invoke the power of the Fomoire.”

Oberon clapped his hands together sharply a couple of times and let out a low laugh. I drew back a little, his sudden joy taking me by surprise. “Petra Maguire. Do you have any other lovely surprises for me?” The gleam had returned to his eyes, and I realized that it had probably been a very long time since the High King had felt he might have the upper hand against Finvarra and the looming threat of the Tuatha.

“Uh, nothing more that I can think of at the moment, Your Highness,” I said.

But the handsome High King’s grin was infectious, and I felt a small tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“Well, I suppose that’s understandable, and I shouldn’t be so greedy,” Oberon said. He wagged a finger at me. “But you are now my lucky charm.”

I glanced at Jasper and Eldon. Jasper’s golden eyes glinted with amusement and pride. But Eldon’s face was guarded. He peered at Oberon with tight lines bracketing the corners of his mouth, distrust that wasn’t quite disguised. That cooled my mood. Was there some bad blood between these two men? Or was there something more I should be wary of?

“I know you must return to your own realm and attend to things there,” Oberon said to me. “You’re free to depart, if you wish. I’ll be in touch again soon as we learn more about this untapped power and how we will use it.”

Not waiting for Jasper and me to bow and curtsy, Oberon turned to Eldon and placed his hand on the Fae sorcerer’s shoulder, drawing him toward the far side of the room. They began talking about scholars and libraries, presumably trying to come up with resources who might help them understand the power of the Fomoire that supposedly flowed through those with stone blood.

Something prickled at the back of my mind, leaving me slightly unsettled. Maybe it was the nearly fanatical glint in Oberon’s eyes when we spoke of the potential power of the god blood.

My unease dissolved as I walked toward the study door at Jasper’s side.

“I figured you were treasure hunting in the far reaches of Faerie, looking for the Chalice of Dagda,” I said to him.

He tipped his face toward me, his golden gaze flickering to my crown and then fixing on my eyes. “I’ve been searching, but so far only to run into dead ends,” he said. “Nice hat, by the way.”

I reached up to firm the crown down on my hair. “I left in a hurry. Finvarra interrupted my coronation.” And various attempts on my life.

We exited the study, and Jasper took us down the hall to a door. He held it open for me. I knew I couldn’t stay long but couldn’t resist stealing a minute or two with him before I faced my failed assassins in the fortress. When I realized he’d taken me to a small resting room with a vanity, a chaise lounge chair, and relaxing music, I turned to him in confusion. He flipped the lock on the door and then with cat-like swiftness had me pressed up against the tile wall with my wrists pinned over my head. Aurora’s scabbard dug into my back. But I didn’t care.

Jasper covered my mouth with his. My lips parted, inviting, and the tip of his tongue swept over mine. A hum of pleasure vibrated low in my throat as the kiss deepened.

He pulled back, his tri-colored eyes filling my field of vision. “Congratulations, Your Majesty, on officially taking the throne,” he said, growling the words in a way that made me want to grab the front of his shirt and rip it open.

“Considering a significant portion of my subjects didn’t want to see me live to the end of the ceremony, I’m not sure that’s the appropriate sentiment,” I said, the heat of my attraction to Jasper chilling as I recalled the events in the auditorium. The coronation had been the first step in the plan to fully take on the role of queen and begin gathering support for my reign. It’d survived it, but I wasn’t sure I’d really count it a success.

He stepped back and curled his hands around mine, peering down at me with concern etching lines across his forehead and around his eyes.

I shook my head. “Don’t worry, I’m handling it. It’s just going to take a while to sort things out in the Carraig Sidhe kingdom.”

He reached up to smooth a strand of hair behind my ear. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

I allowed myself a small smile. “That would be nice. But you have more important work to do.”

He puffed his cheeks as he blew out a frustrated breath and mussed his sandy hair. “I’m nearly at my wits’ end. Every lead has been a dud.”

“What about Morven?”

“Morven?”

“Yeah, the Ghillie Dubh who knows just about everything about everything?”

“Oh, I knew who Morven is,” Jasper said. He frowned. “I just don’t trust him.”

I shifted my weight.

His gaze sharpened on me. “You’ve used his, ah, services?”

I nodded a bit reluctantly. “On more than one occasion. It’s not fun, but I’ve always found it was worth it. Saved my ass at least once.”

He pressed his lips into a line of displeasure. “I’ll go to him. If ever there was a time, it’s now.”

I couldn’t disagree. I’d used Morven’s services for far lesser needs than what Jasper sought.

Someone rapped on the door, and we both jumped guiltily.

“Occupied,” Jasper called out, giving his voice a gruff edge.

Our eyes met, and I sighed. “Can’t we just stay in here a while?”

He arched a brow. “You want to hang about in the restroom?”

“I think we could figure out how to have a good time in here,” I said, eyeing the wide, upholstered bench set up against the wall.

“I have no doubt,” he said, heat growing in his eyes.

He bent in for one more kiss, and then all too soon we were back out in the hallway. He walked me to the castle’s foyer, where there was a doorway I could use to return to the fortress.

“Please send word about how it goes with . . .” I glanced around at the bustling room and lowered my voice. “With the man who knows things.”

“Aye. And be on guard, Petra. I can’t lose you,” he said simply, his eyes full of intense sincerity.

My insides melted a bit, but standing there in such a public place, all I could do was nod.

Jasper turned to go, and I was just about to face the arch in the stone wall when someone came running through the foyer.

“Your Majesty, Queen Petra,” a woman called.

It took me a moment to recognize Eunice, Finvarra’s companion who’d come with me to the Summerlands seeking refuge.

She stopped in front of me, breathless. “Oh, my, oh. Thank the gods I caught you.” She spoke and curtsied at the same time. “Please, Queen Petra, I know I have no right to ask anything more of you, but oh my, I just must make a request.”

“What is it?”

“Allow me to come back to the fortress with you,” she said. She swallowed, her eyes pleading. “There is nothing for me here. It was sheer luck I was even able to escape my room to catch you. They don’t trust me.”

“You’re not a Carraig Sidhe, Eunice,” I said. “I’m sorry, I can’t take you back to the fortress. We don’t allow non-subjects to reside there.”

“What if I could help you?”

I crossed my arms. “Help with what?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The Unseelie High King. I know his habits.”

My eyes narrowed, and I took in her desperation. “Did you extend your offer to King Oberon?”

“I tried, but he never deigned to allow me audience with him.”

“Okay,” I said. “You may come as my guest. I can’t guarantee you permanent residence in my kingdom, though.”

Maybe I was making a mistake in bringing a virtual stranger back with me, but I believed her. And if she could give us an edge with Finvarra, she was more than worth the room and board in the fortress.

Her head was bobbing in fast nods. “That’s fine, Your Majesty, that’s fine.”

I nearly asked if she needed anything from her room before I remembered she’d arrived here naked, with only the sheet from Finvarra’s bed.

“Then to the fortress we go,” I said, turning to the doorway.

She heaved a grateful sigh and placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. I traced the sigils and said the words, and together we stepped forward. The solid stone wall dissolved, giving way to the netherwhere.