Page 14 of Shaedes of Power (Soul Magic #1)

CHAPTER 14

T he Gaylenswood started where the Corewood ended, wrapping itself along the west edge of the realm like a misshaped half-moon. It was said that the Forest Court, run mostly by yellow Shaedes and Naturals, had a name for every tree and bush. It was teeming with wildlife who loved living in an environment that was so well looked after.

We had managed to sneak out later that afternoon, under the guise of taking a short walk to meditate—if anyone asked. Which no one did. We had spent the whole day holed up in the Room of Records, practically hiding from the other High Shaedes and everyone else at court. Not telling anyone where we were headed or what we intended to do made me feel a little guilty, but I would have done almost anything to avoid having to confront Farris after what had happened, and doing something drastic to avoid the impending conflict with the Night Court seemed as good of an excuse as any. For all the others knew, Glory was still buried in research in the Room of Records, and I was still off somewhere sulking. Farris had probably started looking for me by now, which would have raised some serious questions from the High Shaedes and maybe led them to believe I was off hiding somewhere in shame .

None of them would be able to guess where we were actually headed. And that was by design.

We had portaled to the far west side of the forest, to a place I had never bothered to travel to before. Splayed out before us was a golden carpet of various species of yellow flowers, baking in a sky filled with unending sunshine. We stayed in the shadows on the edge of the forest, awaiting Amira’s possible arrival, but my attention had drifted elsewhere. Across the meadow, to be exact, where the Shadowlands laid its wicked claim.

“Spooky, isn’t it?” asked Glory, also scanning the dark horizon. “My parents once took me northward, to camp on the beaches and to gaze upon Jovii’s Isle from afar. We made a hike of it and visited family friends that live in the Gaylenswood, not far from here. One of the older kids we were staying with took us out to this meadow. As a child, it was quite terrifying, but as an adult, I thought it would be less so since I understood more about curses, the Balance, and the protections that afforded us. But now here we stand, well within reach of its dark purposes. It’s not too late to go back, you know. Amira might not even show.”

“For Farris’s sake and everyone else’s, no realm is safe if we don’t accomplish something from this meeting, so I pray that she does show,” I said, starting to have doubts myself.

There was enough noise emanating from the depths of the forest to notice when it abruptly went silent. A portal opened near where we huddled, and Amira, dressed in a long copper-colored gown that clashed sordidly with the pastel in her hair and skin, crossed the threshold into the meadow. She took long, proud strides to reach us, chin tilted to the sky, clearly enjoying the sun on her face—a luxury she had for years done without.

“Sister dear, I cannot say that I wasn’t intrigued to receive such a bold request from you this morning,” Amira purred. “Our spies tell us some congratulations are in order. A no-shaede High Shaede. The Balance must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel to find a way to beat the Night Court.” I would try to look offended if it wasn’t for the fact that her words mirrored the exact inner thoughts of my own mind.

“Who’s to say what the Balance intends, Amira? But I do thank you for coming.” I paused, trying to choose my words very carefully. I didn’t know her well enough to know what would set her off, but I knew she really loved Ciaran, so I thought I’d start there.

“Was it Ciaran’s idea to go to Jovii’s, or was it yours?” I asked.

“I hardly think it matters at this stage in the game, but it was mine. I told the Shaede Court I traveled a lot before meeting the Dark Prince. I spent lots of time with Jovii on both sides of the Seam. Whether or not he knew whose daughter I was, I do not know. But we bonded, and he was looking into my—our enigma.” My anger flared, realizing that Jovii was not just collateral damage but a friend of hers that she had no problem killing. The discussion had barely started, and I was already learning plenty about her.

“And what is that—this enigma?” I tried to keep calm, but I could feel Glory waiting silently nearby in the shadows, leaning in for the answer to that question with anticipation.

“Have you not felt it yet, sister?” Amira stifled a giggle. “A strange connection with the Balance that also gives us a heightened sensitivity to the powers of others. Your little purple friend over there? I can feel her magic coursing through her veins; I know you can feel it too. All Shaedes can tell magical beings apart from those without magic, but she can sense little more about you, whereas you can practically touch her magic. Have you ever stopped to think that if you can sense it this acutely, that you might be able to harness it?”

“High Shaedes syphon power from one another all the time; that is not a unique ability,” I reasoned.

“Yes,” she continued, “but I’m not saying to take it and use it, I’m saying you could take it and store it. Become the most powerful faerie the realm has ever known.”

“You can do this? You can just steal magic and store it? If that’s the case, why do you not just take over the world for Ciaran?”

“Because I can only sense the magic. I was not made a High Shaede. But I think you have the ability now, whether you know it or not. Think of the things we could do together. Ciaran will have his war one way or another, but even if we do not figure out the root cause of his day-walking, all together we would be unstoppable.”

Interesting. All at once, it hit me that although I was the one to call this meeting, it was Amira who had come to bargain. And even though this siphonic ability was very fascinating in theory, she just gave me all the information I needed to know about how much she and the Night Court knew about the Renaissance Spell. Even if she had been in conversations with Jovii, we killed her warriors, and the information never reached them.

“Why Ciaran?” I asked, partially because I was avoiding angering her by declining her offer and partially because I was generally baffled at her choice of mate.

The question made her instantly smile in a way that made my stomach churn. “You know, I really had expected to find a court of uneducated, uncivilized, and undead brutes, who led a miserable existence in the shadows. Even if my expectations had not been so gravely low, Ciaran would have exceeded them far beyond my imagination. These were not the boring, stuck-up fae I’d grown up with—they were beautiful. He said my power spoke to him, whatever that means. I swear male faeries have been using that same line on coquettish young female fae for millennia to get them into bed. I was not an idiot; I knew he was dangerous. I knew he was capable of darkness. But I was enchanted. Not like, literally—but you know, my curiosity and desire overrode the teachings of my youth. His way may be harsh sometimes, but his words are fair. Why not him, Opal?”

My eyes widened, suddenly terrified that that question might not have been rhetorical. Then she continued, “Why must he and his court bear the punishments for sins committed by a man who died as long ago as the moon is old? And if we, as faeries of the Shaede Court, could look at these men and women of the night and bring them into the light, is that not fairness? Is it not balance? Is it not our duty?”

Shit. That one definitely did not resonate as rhetorical. I glanced back at Glory, wishing she was an orange Shaede and could read my mind. It was time to go. Amira didn’t just fall in love with a man—she fell in love with an entire movement. She was so brainwashed that there would be no convincing her to influence her lover; his battle was one she had come to believe in.

“The Shaede Court will never accept the cursed and the damned, Amira. I do believe there is a path here to peace, but it would take more than I think either of us is willing to give,” I said.

She heard the rejection in my words but did not show signs of disappointment. Before I could take a step back toward the trees, a portal opened, and Ciaran leapt out with dramatic flair, standing brazenly before us with what looked like dead vines in one hand. He whispered an ugly word into them and threw them in our general direction. The vines hit the ground at our feet and slithered up our bodies so quickly that there wasn’t even time to think of the word portal , let alone cast one. The dark magic bit into our skin as the vines quickly ensnared our bodies, leaving our legs the only things we still had control over. Our magic was in a choke hold, and Amira just laughed and laughed.

In my mind, I had always known that my clandestine meeting with Amira had the chance of going poorly, but this was bad—very bad. When we were pushed across the portal into the Night Court Palace, I felt my magic suddenly freeze over. It was there, but no longer accessible. It took a minute for the ice to set inside my body. It felt like dead weight. I was suddenly cold—very cold—making the burning from the vines that bound us almost a welcome discomfort.

I tried to take in our surroundings as we were shuffled through a mass of mingling courtiers, all dressed in the gothic style of black silk, dark lace, and leather. All with dark features contrasting on pale skin, like animated ghosts in the night.

The room itself was cavernous. There were no windows or lamplights to illuminate the space, but thousands of candles in different shapes and sizes lined up on pillars and set in candelabras along each wall. The effect created both an eerie and intimate feeling in the space. Deep into the back of the room, where we were headed, were a pair of dark wooden thrones sitting on a raised platform with seven or eight wide stone stairs leading up to them. The thrones themselves were ornately carved with scaly beasts crawling up the backs and down the arms and had deep purple velvet cushions on the seats. One throne sat empty, while the other was occupied by Edmyn, a beautiful human female draped over his lap. She was alive but unconscious, two visible bite marks dribbling excess blood down her neck.

Ciaran pushed us down on our knees before the thrones and then skipped up the steps to take his seat. Amira, looking satisfied and triumphant, slowly took her place, standing next to her lover. Edmyn, emotionless as ever, hardly seemed to even notice us. He wore a loose black shirt underneath the long red leather jacket this time and was absentmindedly fingering the wounds on his victim’s neck.

“Ladies and gentlefae, what fortune has fallen on us this day. Not one, but two High Shaedes have come to visit. Shall we make them feel welcome?” As always, there was a dangerous edge to Ciaran’s voice. His sycophants laughed hysterically, and it took everything I had not to look at Glory. If I turned my head and saw fear in her eyes, I would crumble. Instead, I tried hard to focus on a tiny crack in a stone stair about three steps up. It was my task, my sole purpose. Hold onto that crack and not let myself go to the place in my head where I knew I’d never see Dru, or Farris, or the Shaede Court again. To a place where the sun simply did not shine and everything smelled murky and old, like death.

“Oh, come now, ladies,” continued Ciaran, intent on getting a rise out of us. “You have to admit; it wasn’t that hard to catch you. What news can you bring us of the Shaede Court? You all have been awfully quiet over there.” I don’t think he actually expected a response from us, but rather more wicked laughter from the court at our expense.

“My darling Amira has some wild theory about your magic, colorless one,” Ciaran looked down on me. I continued focusing on that crack, imagining having the magic to fracture it further and causing the whole section of room to crumble in on itself. “Is alliance still a dirty word at the Shaede Court, or could you see yourself aligning with us? If what she thinks is true, we could probably overtake the realm even without a war.”

Glory made some sort of disparaging comment under her breath, like ‘filthy undead monster,’ and Ciaran snapped his fingers, causing her to double over in audible pain as if an invisible fist had just punched her in the stomach.

“Stop!” I yelled, my voice so loud it echoed against the stone walls like thunder.

“There she is,” Ciaran said eagerly, delighted in my outburst of emotion. “I bet you have the same fire as your sister, or at least I hope so for my dear Edmyn’s sake.” I glared at them both, catching a smirk from Edmyn. My skin crawled and my stomach dipped as I remembered Ciaran’s words to my father days ago in the Shaede Court. Perhaps we start with this one. He had meant for me to mate with Edmyn, for me to somehow break his curse. That day in the throne room, I had thought him crazy for suggesting such a solution, but now with what had barely happened with Farris, I knew that there was potential it could actually work.

Ciaran continued to goad. “Come on, pinky. Don’t look so glum. There are worse fates than sacrificing your body for the betterment of this fine realm.”

“You want respect? But you would rape and murder to get it. You want freedom? But you would rape and murder to get it. Neither the Shaede Court nor I would ever ally with something so vile, so rooted in evil. I’d rather die than have my magic tied to anything benefiting this Balance-forsaken place.” Glory moaned beside me in agreement, and I braced myself for a similar beating.

Ciaran burst out a short, superficial laugh, then said, “If it’s death you want, that can certainly be arranged. But not until after we see if you can awaken the light in my brother.”

For the first time, I looked pleadingly at Edmyn, frantic now for any sign of dissent, but saw only indifference. Ciaran waved his hand suddenly, and the vines uncoiled from our bodies, fell to the floor, and slithered back to his lap .

“Would you have her now, Edmyn, or can your appetite wait until after a little festivity?” Ciaran asked.

“I’ve waited this long, brother. I can wait a little longer. Besides, you know how much I like to play with my food.” These were the first words I had ever heard Edmyn speak, and they were terrifying. His voice was low and raspy, probably from talking so infrequently. But his words pleased Ciaran, who was smiling like a madman and instructing music from somewhere to be played.

Ciaran took Amira’s hand and guided her down the steps. When she passed us, I noticed a slight change in her expression. I wondered if this was all part of her plan, or if seeing me so humiliated had not actually been what was intended. Either way, it didn’t matter now; Ciaran floated them both into the center of the room as a stringed instrument started playing something slow and sad. A circle of courtiers formed around them, and they danced and danced as if nothing had just happened. I think it was meant to be wounding and dismissive, but I took it as a reprieve. I went to help Glory up. She struggled but seemed physically like she was going to be okay.

“When his magic touched me, it felt like I was going to choke on dirt,” Glory said, rubbing her stomach.

“This is all my fault; it was a stupid idea to seek Amira out. She certainly appears to be one of them.” We stood together and moved to watch Ciaran and Amira turn themselves about the room to the peculiar music, visibly enamored with one another. The circle eventually broke up, and they were joined by dozens of other couples, their many shadows climbing the walls like specters.

I located two doors, one at the front of the room, that looked like the main entrance, and another smaller door to the left of the thrones, probably to some antechamber much like the ones at the Shaede Court. Was it even worth imagining how far we could get before one of these dark fae recaptured us? Was it worth the torture to try? If I had access to my magic, I would have just gone white and been done with it. But now we just cowered together, awaiting our inconceivable fates.

“Why didn’t we tell anyone where we were going? This is not solely on you, Opal. I knew the risks and still agreed to go with you. I wanted to try to do something useful—something more than just reading and researching. I just don’t know how one survives something like this. And I am freezing,” Glory spoke, her teeth starting to chatter.

“I am too,” I said. “This place is like a—” I was interrupted by a warm hand touching my shoulder, startling me to silence. I turned to see Edmyn, much too close for comfort, his jade eyes dancing along with the flickering candlelight. I felt paralyzed by his nearness, like prey caught in an invisible snare, watching death hovering close above.

“If I may,” he said softly. And suddenly I felt that warmth from his hand spill down my arm to my fingertips. It made its way to all the other cold places on my body and calmed the chill. My muscles relaxed a little, and I couldn’t deny that I felt improved. He then took his hand and reached for Glory’s, who reluctantly allowed his magic to take her shivering away. When he was done, he stepped back and went back to looking around wearily at the dancers.

“It must be quite a shock to the system to be cut off from the Balance after having your temperature regulated from birth. You’ll get used to it,” he said nonchalantly.

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Glory spat. “I want to go home.”

“Look at some of these humans. They have adapted just fine,” he said, ignoring Glory entirely and gesturing to some of the guests. “Unconventional, I know. We collect a few each year, it seems. They are outliers in their realm, drawn to the darkness for different reasons. Some are lonely; some develop a taste for our blood, which gifts them unnatural strength and agility, and they become addicted. But some just haven’t met a scary story they didn’t like. Most humans dream of princesses and unicorns, but these dreamt of dark lords and skeleton horses.”

“You have skeleton horses?” asked Glory. Edmyn rolled his eyes—the most expressive thing I’d seen his face do yet.

“No, you dim Shaede. We have black unicorns with a curved horn.”

“Menacing,” I said sarcastically. There was no point to any of this conversation, and we were way beyond trying to fake civilities.

“Not everything that is dark is meant to be menacing,” he said with an edge to his voice. “Sometimes something that is dark is just different, and different can be beautiful .” The way he said the word beautiful caused goosebumps to run down my arm, and I wondered if this was a natural occurrence or just more of his impish magic.

The song had slowed to a stop, and another slow very similar sounding haunt began.

“I believe it would please the court if we danced.” Edmyn held out his hand, his sharp nails long and menacing, but there was no way in the four faerie courts I would ever willingly touch him.

“You have got to be joking,” I said.

“It wasn’t a joke, nor a request.” And he used his magic to force my hand into his, my feet reluctantly following him into the middle of the swirling dancers. “I hate dancing,” he said casually, wrapping his other hand around my waist. It felt like a talon, and I was the defenseless mouse, clenched inside his grasp. We stepped together around the room, catching Ciaran’s eye, who beamed with deranged excitement. The other dancers seemed happy enough, their mouths flashing glimpses of sharp teeth in between jovial conversations and seductive whispers. I lost Glory somewhere in the crowd, but I prayed she was still safe and unbothered somewhere along the edge of the party.

We danced and danced in silence, the song so long that I almost found its rhythm. But as soon as I had, the music stopped, and a line of servants emerged from the entrance doors carrying heavy silver trays laden with wine goblets and plates full of pastry, meats, and fruits. Faeries and humans alike applauded their arrival, and as the servants milled about the group, everyone seemed eager to participate in the meal.

“Go find your friend,” Edmyn said quickly. “Tell her not to eat or drink anything she is offered.” I opened my mouth to ask why, but he released the bond his magic had held over me hard and shout-whispered, “Go!”

I don’t know why I trusted his advice, but his command felt urgent enough, so I went. I pushed my way around well-dressed faeries and servants, offering me drinks and a smoked shadow beast tongue. Glory was not hard to miss, as she wore one of the only bright colors in the room. She was standing near where I had left her, looking nervous and alone, like a rabbit caught in a fox den. Only she could have been the fox if she had her magic. She could have even been the bear that ate the fox, but without our magic to aid us, we were just two women who were no match for the monsters that surrounded us.

I was slightly out of breath by the time I grabbed her arm. “I’m glad I found you. I’m to warn you not to drink or eat anything.”

“Of course I didn’t. Everybody knows not to ingest anything from a new realm. History is littered with faeries and other beings giving in to temptation and finding themselves tricked.”

“You know, it is amazing to me that even in the face of probable death, you still find opportunities to condescend. And you take them,” I said unkindly.

“Now that’s not fair,” she contested, clearly offended. “You don’t know anything about me, Opal. You don’t know what it is like to have a family whose only love language is quizzes, achievements, and accolades. If we weren’t talking about how to turn me into a High Shaede, we weren’t talking. It is as simple as that. Don’t think I didn’t grow up hearing the name calling and seeing the sneers, mostly coming from a place of jealousy, I assume—but really. I had no one looking out for me growing up. My parents meant well, but I was ostracized from having normal friends. I don’t know how to talk to people. And I literally don’t know how I got here.” She threw her hands up, gesturing to the universe in frustration, and it was then that I realized that we may have been more alike than I had previously imagined. “I was praying to the Balance, not me, please not me, but I fucking know more about magic than anyone else at court—and now look where it’s got me!” She had raised her voice and started to cry. The meltdown we were both trying to avoid had commenced. Definitely not my intention.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, trying to soothe her. I put my arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry for what I said. I’m not handling this any better.” Several dark fae were looking and whispering in our direction. Thankfully, I spotted Ciaran far across the room, goblet in hand, laughing at something that Edmyn had also deemed worthy of a smile. His face, so often in its neutral state, looked quite luminescent when he smiled, and I was glad they were too busy distracting each other to catch our little moment of weakness. “We can’t let them see our fear, Glory. We have to be stronger than this.” I smoothed some of her hair out of her face and wiped her tears. “I don’t know what hope I have for the Shaede Court at this point. I don’t expect them to save us; they don’t even know we are here. But I do hope they come up with some sort of way to defend against Ciaran, or whatever we endure here will have been for nothing.”

Glory pulled it together, just in time before Ciaran came bounding past us and up the stairs. “Attention, dear brothers and sisters of the Night Court. Might we impart a little good fortune on Prince Edmyn as he takes his mate to his chambers with the possibility of joining me in the light tomorrow morning?”

This must be some strange custom of the Night Court because all the faeries in attendance bent low to touch the stone ground, which, after a few moments, bloomed into an enormous carpet of clover. Only it wasn’t the pillowy, soft, green clover of the glens of the faerie woods. This clover was brown and wilted, and it made a slight crunching sound when you stepped on it. Weirdly enough, in little clusters, it began to flower. But again, these were not the little white tufted blossoms of the glen, but large, velvet-soft, black flowers that I had never seen before, with veiny leaves that looked like they were glowing electric blue. They were quite mystical.

Two human servants dressed in long black skirts and gray fitted vests came to my side. I sought Glory’s hand and clutched it. My heart was pumping so hard that I could feel it in my eyes. Ciaran gestured to someone in the back of the room who started making his way to where we stood while Ciaran addressed the court once more.

“And fortune does not fall solely on Prince Edmyn this night, for Lord Henrick will take the purple Shaede to bed. Perhaps he too will find his way into the sunlight tomorrow.” There was some clapping for Henrick, an oily, bearded faerie with a stocky build. He wore a tunic made of mink, smelled like rotting meat, and looked a little too eager to claim his prize. Glory spoke a thousand words to me by the way she was squeezing the life out of my hand and starting to tremble. She was right. I really hadn’t given her much of a chance. Not while growing up— not ever. But she was smart, she was brave, and she was not crying right now, even though I knew she wanted to. She was a warrior in her own right, and I wished people back at court could see this version of her, facing her hairy and aggressive-looking assailant with her chin held high.

I, on the other hand, was about to lose it for us both. She might be willing to take on this fate, but we both knew she didn’t have any refinement magic whatsoever. When morning came and dawn looked on Henrick’s stinky, pale flesh, he would burn. And killing her will be the natural next step.

“I will bed them both,” Edmyn called out from where he still stood in the crowd. I could barely see the top of his curls, but he was there, on Glory’s behalf, trading one horror for another. Ciaran was enthralled. “Oh come on, brother,” Edmyn badgered. “I’ve waited so long for this. And we don’t know what specific Shaedes, if any, carry this ability. Release them both to me; you know I can handle it.”

“So be it,” declared Ciaran, gesturing for the servants to take us. Henrick was visibly fighting his disappointment, but it was Amira who I was focused on as we exited the throne room, her face pallid with remorse.