Shadowfever

V’lane was Cruce.

V’lane was War.

I’d walked hand in hand with him on a beach. I’d kissed him. More times than I could count. I’d had his name in my tongue. I’d trembled with orgasm after orgasm in his arms. He’d given me Ashford back. Had he taken it to begin with?

War. Of course. He’d turned my world on itself. He’d set armies against each other and sat back watching the chaos he’d created. He’d even gotten out in it and fought with us. No doubt laughing inside, enjoying the added chaos, being in the thick of the fight, watching his handiwork up close and personal.

Was he behind it all? Had he been nudging Darroc for millennia, priming him to defy the queen? And when Darroc was made mortal, had Cruce whispered in a few Unseelie ears, maybe planted key information, and helped him bring down the walls from far behind the scenes? Had he been watching, waiting for the day he might get close enough to the Sinsar Dubh to steal the king’s knowledge and kill the current queen and take her magic?

Did Fae really possess such patience?

He’d killed all the princesses and secreted the queen away to kill at the right time.

He’d turned the Seelie and Unseelie courts against each other, using our world as their battlefield.

We were all pawns on his chessboard.

I had no doubt he was after the ultimate power. The nerve of him, the arrogance—he was the one who’d told me it could be done and how! He was the one who’d recounted the legend to begin with. Unable to resist bragging? When I’d asked him about Cruce, he’d gotten irritated, saying: One day you will wish to talk of me. He’d been jealous of himself, angry that he couldn’t reveal his true majesty. He’d said, Cruce was the most beautiful of all, although the world will never know it—a waste of perfection to never have laid eyes upon one such as he. How it must have chafed him to have to hide his true face for so long.

I’d tanned in a silk chaise, lying next to him. I’d dipped my toes in the surf, holding hands with War. I’d admired an Unseelie Prince’s naked body. Wondered what it would be like to have sex with him. I’d conspired with the enemy and never even guessed it. All the while he’d been touching and adjusting things, nudging us this way and that.

And it had worked.

He’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted. Here he was: standing over the king’s Book, absorbing the deadly knowledge, with the unconscious queen lying at his feet so he could kill her and take the True Magic of their race, too. He’d put her on ice in the Unseelie prison to keep her under control and alive until he was certain he was the most powerful male among them all. The king had given up his dark knowledge. Once Cruce had it, would he really be stronger than the king?

I watched the spells scribed in the Sinsar Dubh slide off the page, move up his fingers into his hands, arms, shoulders, and vanish beneath his skin. He was almost done. Why wasn’t the king stopping him?

“Begun. Can’t be stopped. Think I’d leave part of the Book in two places when they couldn’t even guard one?” the king said.

Barrons and the rest of the men were back to slamming the walls, trying to tear them down to get to Cruce.

But it was too late. He had only a few pages left to go.

I stood, shivering, looking between the king and Cruce, hoping the king knew what he was doing.

Cruce turned the last page.

As the final spell vanished, the Book collapsed into a thin pile of gold dust and a handful of winking red gemstones on the slab.

The Sinsar Dubh had finally been destroyed.

Too bad it now lived and breathed inside the most powerful Unseelie Prince ever created.

The transition was seamless.

One moment I was in the cavern with everyone else. The next I was standing on a giant grassy swell of a hill with Cruce and the king.

An enormous moon obliterated the horizon. Welling up from behind the planet, it blocked out the night sky entirely but for a smattering of stars against a cobalt palette above it.

The rounded pasture climbed gently for miles, vanishing into the moon and making it seem like, if I walked to the top of the ridge, I might hop the pine-board fence and bridge planet to moon with a single leap. The air hummed with a low-level charge, and in the distance, thunder rolled. Black megaliths jutted like the fingers of a fallen giant poking into the cool, unblinking eye of the moon.

We stood between towering stones—Cruce facing the king, me at midpoint between them.

The queen was slumped at Cruce’s feet.

I backed out and away for a wider view. I wondered who’d brought us here and left all the others behind. Cruce or the king? Why?