Page 10 of Shaedes of Power (Soul Magic #1)

CHAPTER 10

T he drums silenced. The five of us stood there while the rest of the faerie court bowed low. Even Farris ceremonially dipped his blonde head. My hands were visibly trembling as I turned with my fellow High Shaedes and managed to grasp the ornamental circlet that was resting on the throne and placed it on my head. It was such a delicate thing, but it held the heavy weight of a thousand promises.

Somehow, I knew the ceremony wouldn’t truly be complete until we took our respective seats. We lowered ourselves in unison while the crowd rose and erupted in applause and praises for the Balance. Although there were many faces in the crowd that looked reluctant to cheer, it was hard to distinguish if it was because they doubted our abilities as the next generation of High Shaedes or if they just believed that the problems facing the Shaede court were unsolvable no matter who had taken the seats.

Farris was misty-eyed and clapping as loudly as the next faerie, and I knew what he was thinking. Having shared with him so much of my angst and anxiety about my lack of shaede, this new development must resonate some confidence in me. It must calm some of my fears. I’ve surely made my family proud. But that was not the case. My body might be alight with access to some very powerful magic, but my mind was freaking out with what I was supposed to actually do with it.

What is happening? I asked myself. What am I doing here? The Balance was not about to answer me. I was so confused, so conflicted, and I knew I couldn’t be alone. We had to be the youngest group of High Shaedes in the history of the realm, for one thing. And I knew most of these Shaedes very well. They were brilliant and powerful—but not save-the-world powerful. Dru was on the verge of a mental breakdown after losing her Father. Leyanna was like a nuclear reactor, ready to blow up at any moment, and should never be trusted with this kind of power. Glory was just going to incessantly annoy the court to the point where they’d be begging the Night Court to come take them. And I was nothing. My magic had no focus. I wasn’t a fighter. I would be the heaviest deadweight in a battle meant for titans.

Even my parents would have thought this was some sort of cruel joke.

The throne was hard and cold against my nearly bare back. The audience had started to settle, awaiting some sort of wise words to come flowing out of us. Their desire for reassurance was palpable. We had reached the apex of their fears. Now, with the new High Shaedes selected, the bleak realities of the future were setting in, and they were ready for us to have some answers. Sadly, I knew we were still drowning in more questions than answers.

I was both nervous and thankful when Leyanna opened her mouth to speak.

“Thank you all for this night and for being such an important part of the process of selecting your new leaders,” she began. “I, er, think it is time for the High Shaedes to discuss our approach to the recent, um, developments with the Shadowlands. So, maybe you all could just go. So we could, you know, eh—do that.” Well, at least she started strong. And the whole of the court got the hint. A prismatic river of faeries exited through the main doors, leaving only a few on the main floor waiting for a quick audience with the Five.

The pretty blue faerie rushed toward another smaller blue faerie of about six years of age, whose royal-blue ringlets bounced when he was embraced and lifted into the air. They appeared to be brothers. Dru left the dais to give her mother a hug and to undoubtedly receive some encouragement—some assurance that her father would have been so proud. Leyanna’s parents were also there. They looked worried for their daughter, but cried happy tears and I overheard them encouraging her to ‘Give those dark ones hell.’ Glory’s parents were fawning over her, straightening her circlet, and bombarding her with loads of advice as if she had no original thoughts of her own. They talked so quickly and so animatedly that I almost felt bad for her. I think we all deserved a minute to think and catch our breaths after what just happened.

And then there were Astor and Farris. Both waiting for me. They didn’t seem to be acknowledging one another, but as the rest of the families left, I didn’t think it really appropriate for either of them to stay. I crossed the stone bridge to the main floor and clasped my arms around Farris, giving him a long squeeze.

“Who is this?” cut Astor, his face incredulous. I reluctantly turned to him.

“What do you even want, Astor?” I asked impatiently. There was nothing he had to say that I wanted to hear.

“Oh, this is Astor,” said Farris smugly. He folded his arms and appraisingly looked the warrior up and down. As much as I would love to see Farris most likely win in a battle of fists, I didn’t have time for this.

“Go away, Astor,” I said.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on becoming High Shaede and pledge to you my sword and my time. If you wanted to maybe get together later—” He never got to finish his sentence because Leyanna had spotted him and was angrily stomping over, suddenly in his face.

“You are so disliked, Astor, that even the Balance decided to bless me with enough power to end you and erase your memory from court. It is literally all that I’ve been praying for. Don’t even look at Opal again, you toad. I dare you to test me.” He actually looked mildly afraid. Without another word, he turned on his heels and disappeared from the room.

Leyanna went back to the dais, and Farris took my hands in his .

“I don’t know what to say about all this, Opal, or really what you must be going through. All I know is that you all are headed toward some really tough decisions. But I wanted to share with you one thing.” His face was so earnest, his eyes so clear. “The Chickcharney,” he said with significance.

“What?” I laughed. I don’t know why, but I needed to laugh. This whole situation was becoming more and more absurd by the moment. The peals of my laughter echoed throughout the hall and startled the other High Shaedes, but it was my last defense against going a little insane, and I was thankful to Farris for his ability to distract me from even the most serious affairs of the moment.

“The Chickcharney”—he laughed a little with me—“is a bird of prey that is supposed to be extinct. They are tall birds with red eyes that see through the night and can twist their heads in any direction, which makes them hard to sneak up on and difficult predators to evade.”

“Do they eat dark faeries by any chance?” I asked teasingly. I didn’t know where he was going with this, but appreciated it nonetheless.

“No,” he said with an air of seriousness. “They supposedly have been sighted in the Bahamas and are an ornithological anomaly that’s thought to be extinct for hundreds of years.” I looked at him confused, trying to understand the point he was so desperately trying to make. “Opal, do not doubt yourself. I think you are like the Chickcharney. Maybe your magic is an anomaly that everyone thought was extinct, when in reality you’ve always possessed it all along. And like the Chickcharney, maybe you are the perfect predator. You just don’t know it yet.” I thought I was going to laugh again, but the look of sincerity in his eyes made me stop myself.

“I suppose we need to have faith that the Balance knows some things we do not, but it would be nice if someone told me I have any predator in me at this point in the game. Red eyes would be cool.” He squeezed my hands and embraced me once more before leaving me with my new High Shaede companions and with little hope that there might be a perfect predator among us at all.

The five of us all stood awkwardly before our thrones, the reality sinking in differently in each of our minds. Sitting on the thrones was fine for receiving court, but sitting in a line facing an empty room was not conducive to collaboration with one another or discussion. So we just stood in a clumsy circle, Leyanna fiddling with her circlet, Glory thinking hard and whispering to herself, Dru staring at me, almost willing me to say something.

It was a long time before anyone broke the heavy silence.

“So let’s see. We’ve got three friends, a nobody, and a know-it-all,” said Leyanna. “Yup, that should be plenty against the Dark Princes. Anyone else feeling underwhelmed by the Balance’s power boost? Or are one of you feeling capable of setting the Shadowlands on fire? Anyone?”

“I am not a nobody,” said the blue faerie with a stern but not unkind glance toward Leyanna. “My name is Lennyx. I think I am the only one not originally from this court. Obviously, I’m from Pellshaeven. My brother Nolken and I were advised to come here after our parents went white fighting one of the shadow beasts.”

“Did you think you’d be selected by the Balance?” asked Dru.

“No—did any of us? I thought we might be a little safer here, because the Water Court is not built for defense—or offense, for that matter. But when Ciaran and Edmyn arrived the other night, I could see we had made the wrong assumption. Nowhere is safe.”

“My parents say Pellshaeven was visited by the largest of all the shadow beasts released. They say it is likely Ciaran hasn’t even shown near his full hand and that larger, even darker forces might soon be used against us,” said Glory ominously.

“Well, my parents say, ‘shut the hell up, Glory,’” spat Leyanna. I could sense the heat radiating off her even from across the circle.

“Okay, Ley. That is enough.” I looked at Glory pointedly. “Perhaps we should start with what we do know about the Night Court. Speculation can wait till later.”

“We know only one of them can daywalk,” offered Lennyx. Waves of calm rolled off of him, and I wondered if anyone else was being affected by his magic. Blue Shaedes tended to be peacemakers and mediators. Water faeries could also call on all forms of precipitation and weather so whole wars might have been ended or avoided by their influence over the atmosphere. But their kind were always hesitant to use their power and slow to react to conflict the way a red or a High Shaede would never be.

“Glory, do you have any control over the shadow beasts? Does creature magic even work against beasts from the Night Court?” I asked. Purple faeries were kind of rare. Sometimes they could shapeshift, but their real power was in talking to animals. Most of the animals that all faeries could communicate with lived on Jovii’s Isle and chose to interact only with each other. But purple Shaedes could talk to all animals, even the wild ones with no discernible voice. Animals seemed loyal to the purple fae in ways the rest of us couldn’t understand, so they carried their messages, their instructions, and their needs out into the wild. Some could be called on to sacrifice themselves for food or perform any purple Shaede’s wish really. As for the purple Shaede’s penchant for dusklight magic, that was still a mystery to me.

Glory was trying to remain unfazed by being snapped at by Leyanna, but her voice was growing unsteady. “An hour ago, I would have said no. Now I am not so sure. I don’t think control is the right word—I might be able to understand them? Communicate with them? Maybe even influence them? They would still, ultimately, be under Ciaran’s command. But I don’t know—maybe enough to make a small difference. Is that why there is a purple High Shaede now, you think?”

It was weird to hear her sound so unsure. She always had all the answers. Her round face became pinched in her efforts to outthink our problems. She fidgeted nervously with a few strands of her long, straight, dark-violet hair.

“Well, if we are taking inventory, I now feel like I could thoroughly mess some faeries the fuck up,” said Dru. “But even if I could snap my fingers and make Ciaran’s head explode, you know he would just regenerate and reanimate. The freaking worm. ”

“I would set him and his entire court on fire. Every inch of my body says it would be delightful and easy, but our magic doesn’t work in the Shadowlands. That’s why the water boy over here and I are useless,” Leyanna said matter-of-factly.

Everybody looked at me.

“If you two are useless, I don’t know where that leaves any room for me on the spectrum. At the very least, I’ve grown more sensitive to magic. Whatever magic I had feels heavy and amplified. I definitely feel touched by the Balance, but there are no real secrets unlocked here. No defining quality to my magic I can identify as even minutely helpful. I’m so sorry.” By the looks on their faces, I think they had all thought as much already. I was just confirming it.

“So we have a ton of power that we can’t really use against our enemy. We’ve got maybe some defense to the shadow beasts, but we aren’t really prepared for dark magic attacks beyond that. So, what do we do?” asked Dru.

“What about consulting the whites?” suggested Lennyx. “The oldest among us might have some insight of how best to tackle this kind of conflict.”

“My parents told me,” started Glory, who looked nervously at Leyanna for a moment, “that when the former High Shaedes fought Ciaran and pushed him through the portal, they didn’t just drain themselves. They pulled what magic they could from the white fae across the courts, essentially ending the lives of all our eldest courtiers.”

That quieted us all for a moment. To think that the High Shaedes had been put in a position where they had to choose to sacrifice the few for the many was sobering. Would we have done the same? Would we have to do the same someday? I was fine with playing fire with my own life, but being bound to the rest of the realm had more responsibilities than any one faerie should ever desire. It made the stakes of the game seem that much higher, that much costlier.

“So if all the oldies are deadsies, where does that leave us?” asked Leyanna, her lack of respect of the dead causing all of our mouths to hang open.

“Leyanna,” I implored. “Those were people’s fathers, mothers, and grandparents. Those were faeries that have served the realm for centuries upon centuries. We can’t just dismiss them like that.” Alas, she seemed unencumbered.

“Look, has it ever struck you that maybe this group needs someone who isn’t going to get stuck mourning the dead or crying over the consequences of bad decisions. It’s time to make some. Maybe the Balance picked me because it knew I’d keep our eyes on the prize. Collateral damage be damned. So I will ask again, where does this leave us?”

“Is mediation off the table?” asked Lennyx boldly. “I mean, we really have only heard from Ciaran and Amira. Maybe there are other innocents at their court. Does Ciaran really speak for all the dark fae? We know that most of the remaining black faeries flocked to them long ago. Begged to be changed into dark faeries and join his court. But perhaps they weren’t all willing, or perhaps thousands of years under his regime have soured their loyalty?”

“That is such wishful thinking; now I know we’re screwed,” said Leyanna. “Ciaran is promising his people power, mating rights, access to dark and Balance magic. If there is anyone at the Night Court sympathetic to our realm, it wouldn’t be anyone powerful enough to help overthrow him.” Lennyx conceded with a little bow of his head, but he kept his eyes on Leyanna as if he were trying to figure her out. As if there were more to her than just blind rage and beauty.

“We will never be able to bring a fight to the Night Court,” mused Dru, talking as much to herself as she was to any of us. “If we cross into the Shadowlands, we will be annihilated by dark magic. If he brings the fight to us, at the very least it will be a string of shadow beast attacks that may or may not end up causing us to go white in defense of the realm. A repeat of what the former Five experienced. We need something new, a new angle. A new set of circumstances. Ciaran wants the daywalking ability for his court. If he was unable to achieve it, if we could prove this was an empty promise, maybe we could sway his court. Or at least cause enough unrest that there might be some negotiating room.”

“But is he unable to achieve it?” I asked. “I mean, we know what he thinks happened with my sister. I’m loathe to acknowledge something higher level transpired between them, but that curse was reknit. What did Betta call it? Refinement magic?”

“Refinement magic is the essence of removing impurities or adding virtuous properties on a being, place, or object,” said Glory, putting her photographic memory to use. “Its history lies in the ancient magic of the Nymphs. Although often superficial in nature, refinement magic is not illusionary but changes the core or foundation of its focus.”

“The Nymphs? I don’t recall anything hardcore about the Nymphs other than that they used to sex up all the humans back in the day and make them do foolish and terrible things. Before the Seam was created, of course,” said Leyanna.

Lennyx rolled his eyes a little, but smiled. “Nymphs were some of the first blue faeries. They were so beautiful and had such subtle, capable power that our people gave them a special name. They were guardians of special waterways and reservoirs and often served the realm as fierce protectors. Sometimes they would get bored, yes, and use their beauty to charm and enchant the passersby, but that’s the only part that most people remember. Through some sort of refinement magic, they were able to create demigods from humans, mutations of creatures—some even say they were the mothers of dragons. Scaled lizards with wings, too large to live peaceably with any other living thing, definitely a defiance of all things in nature. But the Nymphs eventually died out. They used their magic too lightly and wildly. Some say the Balance came for them, which sounds to me like a cautionary tale that the elders might pass on to children to scare them into always being responsible with their magic. But if what happened to Ciaran was refinement magic, Amira may or may not have even known she wielded it. We might be able to figure out the spell and expose the components. Make them unattainable. And maybe even get the Balance to help us block it or curse it from happening or reoccurring.”

“I know of a white faerie that may still be alive,” said Glory. “But he isn’t in this realm, and he is very old. Not necessarily around-for- the-Nymphs kind of old, but old enough he might know more than we do about refinement magic.”

“Not in this realm?” asked Leyanna. “Then where is he?”

“I’m not exactly sure. I just know he’s not at court. My parents—” Glory caught herself. “I’ll have the registrars search for his last known location. The court tries to keep track somewhat of where our most well-known faeries reside. It’s Jovii. The registrars should know where he is,” she said.

“Jovii? Like Jovii’s Isle—Jovii?” asked Lennyx. Glory nodded, and we were all sufficiently impressed.

“Growing up, once my shaede revealed itself, I started studying all the ancient purple faeries. Jovii was my favorite. A key defender of the talking animals, blessed by the Balance to create a whole new realm. He was obsessed with learning about all the other non-faerie creatures. Had an affinity for humans too. When his wife and son died, one in a war and one in a flood, he cast almost all his magic to the High Shaedes. He kept just enough to keep himself going. He left court to live alone and study. Occasionally, he would send his writings and findings to the court if he thought they’d hold any interest, but it was never made public where he went.”

“I guess if you live long enough, you are bound to experience a certain amount of loss,” Lennyx said. “And you earn the right to live however you wish.”

“Yeah,” we echoed.

“Okay, well, that is at least a bit of a plan,” I said, trying to sound optimistic. “Glory will find out where Jovii is hiding, and maybe tomorrow we go see what he might know about this refinement magic. We still have two more days before Ciaran attacks. Until then, do we tell the court anything?”

“I don’t think we can afford to get their hopes up,” Dru cautioned. “I think it better to avoid talking to anyone about it and just reassure them that we are working on it and will deal with Ciaran and the Night Court with a firm hand.”

Everybody nodded in agreement .

“Should we get some sleep and meet back here for breakfast in the morning?” asked Glory, clearly happy to have a task.

“Not so fast,” said Leyanna. “We still have to figure out what Opal is going to do with Farris.”

“Who is Farris?” asked Lennyx, confused.

“My parents say he is that human that survived a shadow beast attack in the human realm,” sputtered Glory, unable to help herself.

My eyes narrowed, and I immediately felt the need to be on the defensive. “What is there to figure out? He’s healing,” I replied, completely unprepared to have a group discussion about this.

“He looks pretty healthy to me,” said Leyanna, her eyes alight with mischief. “Look, I know he is pretty to look at, and he is obviously obsessed with you, but he doesn’t belong here. And we are going to need you to be focused.” As much as she liked to mess with everyone, she did have the right intentions, and I didn’t know why I wanted to fight them.

“We can glamour him for you if it is too difficult to do it yourself,” offered Lennyx, correctly sensing that yes, stealing away his memories would be incredibly difficult for me. In fact, even the idea that there would be a world where we didn’t know of each other seemed too bleak in which to even exist.

“He took all of this in stride—the shadow beast attack, the faerie realm, all of it. He understands the importance of secrecy. He wouldn’t cross the Seam and go blabbering to anyone that would listen about magic and faeries and beasts. He just wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t.” I couldn’t hide the pleading in my voice.

“Why is it so important to you?” asked Dru. “You’ll most likely never see each other again anyway.” She absolutely did not mean that insensitively—I knew my friend—but her words cut me in half. My parents’ deaths hadn’t reduced me to a puddle of tears, but this conversation was causing my eyes to well and my hands to shake. I was moments away from losing it completely.

“Let the man keep his fantasy.” Leyanna smirked, waving them all away dismissively with a hand. She started this discussion as my enemy but now rode in to finish it on a white horse—my hero—and I wanted to throw myself at her feet in gratitude. “I just think we need him out of here. He’s a liability. And everyone knows dark faeries are attracted to human blood.”

They all consented. A pit lodged itself in my stomach with the knowledge that, at dawn, I would be saying goodbye to Farris. But at least he would remember us. At least he could move forward in his life knowing that magic is real and that he had gotten to be a part of it.

Glory shapeshifted into a bird and flew out the ceiling into the night, headed to the registrars’ wing, where the scholars, mapmakers, and records dwelled. Leyanna rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchens in search of food because she was starving. Lennyx offered to accompany her and almost had to run to catch up to her. But Dru stayed behind and turned to me.

“What a day, huh?” she said and went to slump awkwardly in her throne. “Drooling Druleen is now a High Shaede.”

“Not nearly as shocking as Opal the Shaedeless Wonder being handed a throne.” I walked near my throne but didn’t sit. It was all still too surreal. “Your father was an amazing leader. You will be too, Dru. You already are.”

“If I said the same to you, would you believe me?” she asked.

I shook my head sadly in reply. We stayed together for a little while in silence. Just dwelling a little bit in the life-changing realities that the throne room had dealt us in such a short amount of time.

“Go,” she said suddenly. “Go spend some time with Farris, and say your goodbyes. The night is long, but it’s not forever.” I nodded and hurried out, for truer words had never been spoken.