"Fucking cannibalistic sword drank my goddamned blood, and you want me to calm down?" Gray chased me as I ran to the manor doors.

"Look, it was either wake you with a cut, or let you sit there and starve to death in the garden," I reminded him for the third time. "Now get back to the pack. I can't put you in any more danger."

He scoffed and raced ahead to the door, hesitating only a second before grasping the handle and tugging it open. “Or maybe instead of listening to that demonic blade, you could’ve tried, I dunno, slapping me, or pinching my arm first, before letting that thing drink my goddamned blood.”

“Duly noted. I’m sorry. Now get the fuck out of here, Gray. I think I’ve proven pretty conclusively that I can’t protect you.”

He finally came to a full stop. “And we know I can’t protect you, right?”

“My father is dying or dead. Fortunato now has control of the high court. I’m not going to survive this, we know it. Don’t make me responsible for your death, too. Your people need you, just as mine need me right now.”

Gray didn't answer. His eyes glowed like molten gold and in a smooth wave of jet fur, he became the jaguar. No crackling of bones now groans of pain. Just the blink of an eye to go from man to beast. Even his feline face looked surprised as I gaped at him.

“Well. Maybe if Fairy magic is making us stronger, we can take out Fortunato and his guard before we’re taken.”

The big cat sniffed and turned toward the throne room ahead. The sword warmed in my hand and sang a song of war in my head as I slid the ruined belt out of its loops and tossed it on the floor with Gray’s discarded clothes.

The corridor was quiet, no sign of servants or soldiers. But in my watery vision, the throne room had been packed with nobles and soldiers alike, and I had no idea if any of them were sympathetic to their king. We proceeded with caution, looking for an ambush at the first intersecting hall before continuing.

Losing patience, I broke into a run, and almost crashed into Millie and Ravenna as they ran to meet us.

“My father is in there, Lady.”

“Fortunato has every door blocked, but my wisps said you were here, so we came to you, praying you could gain us entry."

Millie glanced from the sleek jaguar at my side, to the glowing red sword in my hand. “Glamdrung,” she breathed, glancing at Ravenna.

“Ah, Fortunato called it Dyrnwyn, but it was less blood, more flame then. It changed when it was bound to me.”

The healer and the servant shared a look. “The old weapons disappeared and reappeared throughout the ages, and no one but the heroes who wield them know their full story.” Ravenna managed the ghost of a smile. “It serves that Fairy would name you a hero.”

“It wasn’t Fairy. The sword went to Tryst first. It became bonded to me accidentally.” I shook my head. “Hopefully he isn’t too mad about it, I’d give it up in a second if I could.”

“There are no accidents, Princess. But at least for now, the blade claims you, and you must show your cousin and whoever follows him, that you have brought back the magic of heroes. Show them your power. That is what they respect.”

She nodded to Millie, who made the door disappear with a wave of her hand. “Hurry, I can only hold it a moment.”

I pretended not to be amazed and strode through the opening with my sword aloft, jaguar at my side, and pushed my way past the scowling nobleman who tried to block my way.

A sea of robes lay between my father and me, crumpled on his throne, all glow and power faded from him. I raised the sword above my head, and a path immediately began to clear. "Fortunato," I called out, and the path cleared even faster. "You lay claim to a throne you have no right to and betray your king for your ambition."

He sneered and motioned to his guards, who surrounded Gray and me, their weapons raised. "You have no place here. The nobles know you used non-Fae magic to bind that weapon to you unlawfully. You are a fraud."

"I made no claim to the Fae throne, Fortunato. That was you. But if I am a fraud, why do the fairies dance once more at the fountains? Why has magic only returned since I arrived?" He snarled, and the women pressed in closer, jabbing at Gray as he roared and swiped at them with his enormous claws. "Dyrnwyn, the sword of Galadorn, also named Glamdrung of the bloody fields has claimed my hand. If I am a fraud, take it from me."

“You would use witchcraft to defeat me.”

I laughed aloud and turned a slow circle, making eye contact with several nobles. "My cousin believes witches more powerful than the high Fae, old gods, and builders, of continents. You want to be led by a coward, a Fae who can only be king by stabbing his own uncle in the back, a weak Unseelie Fae who is afraid of mortals?"

Several heads nodded, and whispers rose from the crowd watching us. Ravenna had made it to the dais, but Fortunato kept her from examining my father. “He fears she will heal the king and he will fall before the rightful leader of the light court,” one voice rose above the others. I was certain it was Duncan, my father’s advisor.

A cry rose up from the nobles, none of them willing to stand with the usurper in the face of direct accusation they knew to be true. I slapped at the nearest sword with mine. "Move aside, soldier. I am the only child of the king of the light court. I will see to my father, and you will not stand in my way."

Gray slunk forward, hackles raised and a menacing growl rumbling from his belly. A cry went up from the same nobles who had murmured before to let me see my father, and the soldier stepped aside. Fortunato shouted a command to stand, and she raised her sword. I didn’t catch it in time, but Gray saw her movement and whirled on her.

He jumped up and pushed me away from the tip of the blade. It slipped past my shoulder and into his, dragging a feline scream from his throat as he pushed her back and landed on her chest as she hit the floor. He tore out her throat as I stared down Fortunato, who gaped like a fish at the shifter that would dare to take out his personal guard.

“The creatures of the wild hunt follow me, cousin. Do you really want to lose more of your harem, or are you ready to face me yourself? Did you even manage to kill the beast I raised, or did you run from that, too?”

The shift of his eyes from me to the nobles told me the truth. The coward had run, leaving his people behind without even trying to stop it. The sword felt my growing fury, and it was exultant. It felt my hate and wanted to bleed my cousin dry for the world to see and remember our power. "Our glory.”

Fuck. Not good that the sword finished my thoughts already like an old woman to her husband. I needed my father, his power, his magic, but Ravenna looked pale and drawn as she tried to administer aid to her king. Everything was going too slowly. Like the Fae, who lived long and even if they did die, died slower than any witch or human, and often with a lot more suffering.

“Enough.” I pushed the big cat aside and strode to the dais, ignoring the war song of the sword. My rage burned my mind clean of its foggy muttering. I was going to kill Fortunato, not the weapon. It was my right, and my purpose to stand for the Fae. The beast I’d loosed was still in the pit, Fae in danger. “Fight me now, or leave Fairy, and return to Hel, to your own kind.”

With a scream of defiance, he lunged at me, sword swinging. I hadn't forgotten the skill he'd shown in the corridor, and I backed away, off the steps that led up to the throne. On solid ground, I braced for the impact of the first blow, but it still knocked me back several steps and would've put me on my ass if the sword itself hadn't absorbed a lot of the impact.

The vibration of the impact shuddered up my arms, and I would've made me drop my weapon if it had been anything other than that cursed sword. Almost without me helping, it parried the flurry of blows that followed the first, until I could take control again.

“You…should…never…have…come…here,” he screamed, slashing at me with his sword in cadence with his words.

I let him push me back until the path was completely clear for additional healers or my father’s advisors to get to him. I managed to glance past him to Gray. His shoulder seemed completely healed. He guarded Millie and the servants I saw rushing to their ruler.

The female guard stood at attention, unable, or unwilling to leave their master. But none of them attacked. Fortunato was growing tired, his blows less controlled, and weaker at the same time. No one spoke, not even the healers attending my father, and soon the only sound was his labored breathing and the clanging of metal as I blocked blow after blow.

My sword also tired, of waiting for me to strike back. The song in my head turned sour, off tune, and I grinned in triumph. I was the master, not the magic, or the memories of heroes long dead or driven mad by that seductive song.

He saw that grin and shrieked at me, a wordless scream of misery and hatred, and swung the double blade at me with all his strength. It was easy to sidestep the blow, and I struck, slicing into his right arm until the blade struck bone, and nearly through it.

Fortunato's screams turned to pain and panic, and he tried to raise the sword again with only his left arm. I tapped his sword, and it fell away, leaving his torso unprotected. I raised my weapon and aimed it at his chest, and the song in my head turned sweet and seductive again.

No. I will not be your tool to use.

“I am not the monster, merely the culmination of those who have held me. In your hands, I am you. I can take this man’s life now and give it to a man on another day.”

That's what he had called me. "Life-giver, life taker." With a sick certainty, I knew what I had to do. I cursed silently, then lowered the wall I'd built to protect my mind and embraced my new destiny as the hero of the blade.

The song filled my head drowning out everything but the beat of war drums and the roar of warriors as they entered the field of battle. I felt the heat of freshly spilled blood on my hands and wrists and slid the point of the glowing sword between his ribs and through his heart.

“It is not enough to hurt him, Witch-princess. He must die for your father to live.”

Blood magic. Witch magic. I had called it in the prison and cast the power the sword could use by doing so. But I also made things come alive and grow and commanded animals to run with the wind.

“Drink up, you monstrous sword. I will have you do some good this day.” I muttered the words aloud like a spell, but Glamdrung, or Dyrnwyn, or whatever it was called, needed no encouragement to drink its fill of Fae lifeblood.

"I am Lann Fala, blade of blood."

“You are the weapon, and I the master. I will name you what I wish.” And it will most certainly not be Blood Blade. The blade fought me as I forced it out of his chest with a terrible sucking sound. “Stop it, brat. This is bad enough without you making a spectacle of us,” I hissed.

It grew lighter in my hand, sated and happy to obey. Killing, I knew would be easy. But I approached my father terrified that I would fail to save him and the light court would tear itself apart in the aftermath of Fortunato’s betrayal.

But Ravenna understood better than I what was needed. She motioned me close and held out my father’s hand. I placed the hilt of the sword in his palm and the blade across his chest. Then I placed my hand over the blade, and I prayed that the power I had would be enough to save him.

I envisioned green things, lush, beautiful and ever growing. The sword showed me the decay of the mortality poison that had coated the betrayer’s dagger. I coaxed new shoots from the putrefaction in the image, pushing my magic through the blade and into his body.

“That’s it, my lady. Heal his wounds gently, not too fast. Let the magic of nature work as it should, taking the old and turning it into the new.”

The image of my father, whole and well, bound in the magic of Fairy and all green things that made the Fae strong and connected them to the land no matter what continent they moved to. I heard his rasping breath quiet and felt his chest rise and fall gently under my hand. I pushed the sword out and finished my mental image with thoughts of sunshine, giving him back his glow until the sun shone again from the throne of the Seelie kingdom.

“Put him back on the throne,” Ravenna instructed the servants. She began to lift him herself, but he waved her off.

My father held up a hand to me instead. "Morgana, help me stand." I gave him my hand, and he pulled himself up, smoothing out his robes before he asked for my blade. The sword shuddered in my hand, and I hesitated, then handed him the blade.

The moment it left my hand, the red glow disappeared, like hot meta quenched in water. It lay dull and lifeless in my father's hands until he handed it back and it flared to life again, drawing a gasp from the nobles who had pressed close, putting the bodies of Fortunato and his guard behind them.

“The blade has decided, then,” he murmured to me, bending close for as much privacy as we could get. “Beware the old weapons, little one. They are jealous lovers.”

“And they seek to master their wielders. I learned that pretty quickly.” He frowned at me, but I grinned. “First thing is to name it, right? Limits its power to claim control.”

“Yes, that it does. But the weapons were forged to last the millennia, and it will do anything to ensure that. If the song becomes too strong, you must come to me before you are overwhelmed.”

I nodded. "Yeah. And you have work to do weeding out your nobles, but I…I made mistakes, Father. I released a magical beast in the oubliette. You must free the Fae that are still down there, or they will be devoured by a blood golem. It's witch magic. It was stupid and thoughtless, and I can't do anything until the people who I endangered are safe."

He motioned Sir Baran to him and spoke softly to him, and the nobleman commanded guards to follow him as he raced from the room.

The energy I’d gained from the sword was quickly fading, and I felt my knees wobble as I tried to step down from the dais to go to Grayson. My father said my name, and I turned to him, but the edges of my vision grew foggy, and then black.