Page 24

I SLUNG AURORA onto my back and hurried from my quarters. A couple of guards followed behind me. I wanted to shoo them away, but I was too concerned about the tone of Maxen’s voice to bother.

By the time I arrived in the foyer, a crowd of curious onlookers had already started to gather around the edges. But the middle of the expansive space was crowded—no, packed—with unfamiliar faces. Maybe eighty of them, by a quick visual estimate. Maxen was speaking with one of the men, a tall muscular guy about Oliver’s age and with nearly my father’s wingspan. The strangers were peering around, about half of them looking confused and the other half varying flavors of upset. All of them looked dazed. The space filled with the loud murmur of many conversations running together.

One of my guards jogged ahead of me. “Make way for the queen!” he barked.

People scooted aside and began to bow and curtsy as I passed.

I strode through the throng and halted next to Maxen. He bent in a hasty bow. The man Maxen had been talking to shot me a tight-lipped, suspicious glare.

“You’re not Marisol Lothlorien,” he said, his tone accusing.

“No, I’m not. Are you all New Gargs?” I’d nearly said Carraig Sidhe but used the old terminology instead. If these people were all stone bloods who’d been hiding themselves in the Earthly realm, they might not even know we’d been given kingdomhood and an official name.

“Aye,” the big man said. “I demand to see Marisol.”

I groaned internally. I recognized the way he said Marisol’s name. It was the same tone Oliver used to have when speaking of our former leader while I was growing up. My thoughts spun as I quickly did the mental math. This man and Marisol had been close. Probably very close. He’d made a grave sacrifice at her request, abandoning his homeland and everyone he knew to conceal himself, to help Marisol hide our true numbers. Last he’d known, she was the New Gargoyle sovereign who was going to lead us to independence. Everything he’d done, all of his suffering for the past many years, had been for Marisol Lothlorien.

And I’d killed her and taken her place.

“Angus, we should go somewhere to speak in private,” Maxen said, using his most reasonable diplomat voice.

Angus peered at him. “I can tell you’re her boy, even if you hadn’t said your name. You have her eyes.”

Maxen reached up to steer the big man’s shoulder. “Let’s just go—”

He shrugged away from Maxen’s grasp. “I’m not going anywhere until someone explains just what in the name of Maeve is going on here.”

Maxen and I exchanged a look. I supposed I could have called in guards to forcibly escort Angus to a less public place. But that probably wouldn’t have improved his mood or his reception of me.

I leveled my chin and gave him a hard look. “Marisol Lothlorien is dead. My name is Petra Maguire, Champion of the Summer Court, wielder of Aurora. And Queen of the people formerly known as New Gargoyles, now the Carraig Sidhe.”

He peered at me dumbly. Then his eyes narrowed. “Marisol was supposed to rule. You’re not my queen,” he growled.

In the corner of my eye, I saw someone threading through the crowd. Oliver joined us, facing me and bowing. Angus glanced at him, back at me, and then did a double-take, his eyes widening as he took in my father.

“Angus,” Oliver said. “It’s been a very long time.” He stuck out his hand.

Angus blinked several times and then grasped my father’s hand and shook it firmly. “Oliver Maguire. She is a relation of yours?” His gaze flicked to me.

Oliver leveled his chin, his gaze direct. “Yes, Petra’s my daughter. And though she may look more fighter than monarch, she is indeed our queen.”

For a moment, Angus seemed to have warmed at the sight of Oliver, but his face hardened again. “I need to know what happened to Marisol,” he said, his voice low and pained.

Oliver nodded. “We’ll talk about that. There’s much to discuss.”

“Indeed,” I said. I faced the crowd of newcomers. “We’ll start finding places for all of you immediately. This is your home now, and you’re welcome here.”

My words didn’t seem to warm the crowd much.

Amalie had arrived just after my father and was standing at a respectful distance. I went to her and we had a quick, whispered conversation about finding quarters for everyone.

When I rejoined the men, Oliver and Angus were deep in conversation. I watched them for a moment and quietly blew out a long, slow breath. If my father hadn’t appeared in the foyer, I might have ended up in a replay of my confrontation with Raleigh. Thank the gods there’d been no fight.

But I couldn’t relax. Angus didn’t yet know I’d killed Marisol.

I looked over the crowd behind Angus. There were dozens of men and women, mostly my father’s age or older, and a handful of teenagers and younger children. The adults all had the same sunken-eyed, haggard look to their faces, borne of too many years away from Faerie that had affected them like a wasting disease. As much as I’d wanted to get away from the fortress when I was a kid, I couldn’t imagine a continuous exile of decades. It would have felt like a slow, excruciating starvation, cut off from the source of Fae power, vitality, and magic. And all of these people had voluntarily subjected themselves to the torment of it for Marisol Lothlorien, because one of her visions had demanded it.

Part of me wanted badly to hand off the leadership duties to Maxen. He’d already been appointed a role that gave him as much power as I had, and the new additions to the fortress would probably be more receptive to him, as Marisol’s son. But I couldn’t just be an empty figurehead and walk away from these people, leaving them for Maxen to deal with. Not after what they’d sacrificed. They deserved more from me.

Emmaline arrived, coming to me and curtsying, offering something she held in both hands. She’d brought me my crown.

“Your Majesty,” she said. “You left in such haste, you forgot this.”

As much as I didn’t want to, I knew she was right—I needed to wear it. Without a word, I bent so she could position it onto my head. The weight of it seemed to settle over me.

As we began to make arrangements for the newcomers, my mind was jumping ahead to the conversations and possible confrontations I’d have to face. It would only be a matter of time before these people—our people—discovered that Marisol Lothlorien had died by my sword.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “Angus, won’t you join me, my father, and Maxen in the Ruby Room? As Oliver said, we have much to discuss.”

His eyes hardened as he regarded me for a long moment. Then he nodded. “That we do.”

Maxen and I turned to walk through the foyer, giving Angus and the others a full view of Aurora on my back. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder but heard Oliver and Angus in conversation behind us.

“Petra,” Maxen whispered, leaning toward me. “Word came from the Summerlands that Finvarra’s death hasn’t slowed the Unseelie attack at all. If anything, Periclase seems to have held back before, and now he’s really unleashing the full force of his weapons. Oberon thinks he’s trying to make a show of his might to erase any Unseelie doubts about who should be Finvarra’s successor.”

My pulse thumped uneasily. “Damn,” I muttered.

“That’s not the worst of it,” he said. “There is a rumor that the Dullahan were spotted in a remote region of Faerie. Oberon is working on confirming it. And . . .”

When he trailed off, I cut a swift look up at him. “What?”

“The Giants’ Causeway has started to tremor.”

I squinted at him. “The Tuatha?”

Maxen’s gaze met mine, his eyes strained and his face pale. “Oberon believes so.”

My mouth went dry, and a cold shiver swept over me. “We’ve got to get our hands on the Chalice of Dagda. And even more important, we need to figure out how to tap into the power of the Fomoire blood that runs through our veins. Our so-called god blood may be the only true weapon we have against Tuatha De Danann.”

Maxen gave me a tight nod, but we couldn’t speak of it further. We’d reached the Ruby Room.

I turned to face Angus, and my thoughts were a torrent. I felt pulled in half a dozen different directions. There was so much work to do in the fortress to unite the Carraig and get our kingdom running smoothly. But with Periclase closing in on the Summerlands and the Tuatha awakening under the mountain of the Causeway, kingdom business almost seemed a luxury. All I knew was that I’d have to do everything in my power to make sure the Carraig Sidhe and everyone in Faerie had a future to look forward to.