The king shook his head and took both of my hands in his. “He is, at times, a dear friend of mine, but not kin and not of my court. No, it was your lovely mother, a darling of a feykin, who was of my blood.”
My knees went weak, and suddenly the king’s hands weren’t grasping my hands but supporting me as I sagged toward the ground. If the world had blurred at the idea that the king was my uncle, the revelation that my mother was feykin turned it upside down completely. I shook my head, the idea battling with everything I knew and understood to be true.
“Maybe we should take a walk and get some air,” the king said.
“That might be good,” I mumbled, and even to me my words sounded far away, as if I were hearing them from the other side of a long tunnel.
The king helped me to my feet. He wrapped one arm around my waist to help steady me and held my hand in his so that my arm stretched across the front of his dark chest armor in a pose like some sort of shock-induced promenade. As he steered me toward the door I noted how much softer the armor was than it looked, and that it had been heated by his body. It was that almost blistering heat as well as Falin’s voice calling my name that snapped me out of my stupor.
I yanked my hand back from the king’s and spun out of his arm, nearly tripping on my full skirt. As I moved, I caught sight of the hands that had held me and I stopped, as if stuck between one step and the next. Like mine, his palms were coated in blood, but the blood on the Shadow King’s hands looked thicker, darker, and fresher than the blood on mine. I shot a glance at my glamour-created gloves. They were spotless, despite his having touched them.
He must have seen me staring, because he glanced at his hands and shrugged. “The blood of my enemies and the enemies of my court. Unlike some, I don’t hide it away.” He shot a meaningful glance at Falin.
Okay then . . .
I grabbed the front of my enormous skirt and lifted it high enough that I could move freely. Then I bustled back to where Falin stood. He’d picked up PC at some point—for which I was extremely grateful; I didn’t want to know what lurked in the thick shadows hugging every corner of the room. And with all the flying buttresses and recessed arches there were lots of corners. Whispers, thousands of them, seemed to crawl from the shadows, though I saw nothing in them. I’d rather avoid them.
I smiled my thanks to Falin for helping bring me back to my senses and then turned toward the king. “Sir—”
“You may call me uncle.”
Uh, no. I couldn’t. “Do you have another name?”
“The King of Shadows. The King of Secrets. The king of all things hidden in the dark.”
Yeah, all of those titles fit the king, and his court. Well, actually, of his court I’d seen only the planebender so far, but secrets, shadows, and things hidden in the dark were apt descriptions of this room. Not really the name I was looking for, though.
“Do you have a shorter name?”
He laughed, and then gave me a small bow from the waist. “King Nandin, at your service.” He smiled as he straightened, and it was a good, friendly smile that morphed an almost too handsome face into something softer. “I was saddened when your parents decided to leave Faerie, and more so to learn how cruelly the mortal world treated my poor grandniece. Disease, what a waste.” He shook his head.
Even nineteen years later, mention of my mother’s death sent a cold chill through my veins. The pang of loss never really fades, but eventually you just forget to feel it unless something happens to remind you. Tonight it washed through me with a sharper edge than it had in years. Would you have told me what you were, what I am, if you’d lived? I had no idea, and no way to ask. Her shade couldn’t be raised.
“But look at you, my dear,” Nandin continued, unaware of my dark thoughts. He circled me as if I were some unusual doll on display. In the dress the Winter Queen had made, I did feel like a doll, but I still didn’t like the scrutiny, though I had to admit that at least some part of me was pleased that this long-lost uncle looked at me with approval. His warm smile was kind as he took my hand again. “I’d have never imagined that my grandniece’s daughter would have blooded true. And a planeweaver at that. I am truly thrilled you have returned to my court.”
I froze. Is that what all this is about? I looked into those kind eyes, which were so dark that the pupil was lost inside the black iris. They reflected nothing back at me. This isn’t about family. This is about adding a planeweaver to his court. I looked away.
“I haven’t—” I began, but Nandin cut me off.
“My dearest, you look ready to fall where you stand. Here I am, talking your ear off when what you really need is some sleep. We can continue this conversation in the morning. I had a guest suite prepared for you.” He clapped his hands and two women stepped out of the shadows at our side.
Well, not exactly women.
The two fae were definitely female—their bare breasts attested to that—but their noses and top lips merged and extended into hooked and deadly sharp beaks. Neither woman had arms, but large wings where their arms should have been, with scythelike claws at the middle joint. They also had large talons sprouting from their toes—of which they had three per foot—as well as their heels, which at second glance might have actually been a fourth toe. Each fae had a motley covering of feathers, one a black so deep it reminded me of the raven constructs and the other a spotted brown that reminded me of a hawk.
Harpies. They had to be. I’d never actually seen a harpy before, but even if that wasn’t the name the fae used for them among themselves, it had to be one of the names humans had given them at some point in history. I considered myself fairly open-minded, but there was something about the conglomeration of human and bird features in the harpies that made them hard to look at.
“Follow us,” the hawk-feathered harpy said in a harsh, squawking voice.
I wanted to fall back a step and not follow them, but that was just fear, and I refused to be controlled by prejudice. In Faerie appearances meant even less than in the human world. The beautiful could be the most cruel and deadly, while the hideous monster might be the one most likely to help and bless you. I glanced at Falin.
Tight lines of worry creased the edges of his eyes and dipped at the corners of his mouth. He leaned closer to whisper, “It would be rude to dismiss the king’s hospitality.”
And then I might have enemies in two Faerie rulers.
I frowned and touched Holly’s amulet. As it had in the halls of the winter court, the amulet told me that Holly was in multiple directions at once. The spell really doesn’t like doors in Faerie. Of course, the doors in Faerie seemed terribly inconsistent, so it probably wasn’t the charm’s fault.
I sighed. Nandin wasn’t wrong: with the amount of magic I used in my little trick with the skimmers and the fight with the hydra, not to mention the adrenaline-filled escape from the winter court, and then the shock of learning I had family in Faerie—and that it was more than just my father who wasn’t what he appeared—I was ready to collapse. I hadn’t actually expected that I’d waltz into Faerie, find Holly and the accomplice, and saunter back out all in one night. Though a girl can wish, right? I wasn’t up to having to fight my way out of the shadow court if I refused and Nandin took it badly.
“Okay, we’ll follow you,” I finally said because there was no way in hell I was going to thank him for the room and open a debt between us.
The two harpies cocked their heads in a movement that was more birdlike than human. Then they glanced at Nandin as if seeking some answer to a question I hadn’t heard anyone ask. What did I say?
The king ran his pointed beard through his thumb and index finger. “I suppose a room can be arranged for the Winter Queen’s bloodied hands as well.”
Falin stepped forward as if about to say something, and I grabbed his arm.
“He can stay with me.” Because I’d feel a hell of a lot safer if he was with me, even if he might betray me to his queen at a word.
The king blinked in surprise and then his mouth twisted with distaste. “Your father surely does not approve of him.”
Like I gave a rat’s ass what my father thought. I didn’t share that particular opinion with the king, though, as I doubted it would help my case. When I just stood there without saying a word—the one skill I can credit my father with teaching me—Nandin turned away.
“Fine. We will talk again at a late breakfast. Gilda and Naveen will provide you with anything you might need this night.” He turned, his cloak fluttering behind him as he swept away. He paused just before he reached one of the arches. “Sweetest dreams, my dearest niece,” he said, almost as if it was an afterthought. There was no affection in the words this time. Then he stepped through the arch and was gone.
That left us with the harpies, and I shuffled my feet, for some reason even more uncomfortable with their presence than I was before. They watched me with eyes that were a little too round, but they said nothing as they led Falin and me through countless dark corridors. Our footsteps echoed in the seemingly endless space, contrasting with the whispers trickling out of the shadows.
We saw no other living soul until the harpies stopped in front of a large wooden door. Then a short cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows. It looked like the planebender who’d opened the door through Faerie for me. I wasn’t positive, but he was the right height. I’d have liked to question him and ask him how he’d closed the tear like he had, but the raven-feathered harpy turned on him.
“His majesty said you’re not to talk to her. Not tonight,” she said.
The figure stood very still for a moment; then the front of the cloak split open and a hand emerged. It was a small hand, somewhere between the size of a child’s hand and a teenager’s, and the soul beneath shimmered with just a hint of yellow. Human. He reached out as if he would touch me, and the harpies swooped between us, their wings spread as they squawked.
I stumbled back, away from the flutter of massive wings, and Falin was just as suddenly in front of me, passing PC to me as he drew his blades. And then, as fast as the squabble had started, it was over. The harpies folded their wings, stepping back, and the cloaked figure was gone, presumably back whence he had come.