KARIS

The following morning when I woke, Loftin was gone. Panicked, I ran down the corridor to find where they’d taken him.

A Leancan male caught me by the arms at the intersection of two long hallways. “Whoa,” he countered playfully. The smile he wore faded away as he peered down at my nightgown. “Where are you going?”

“Where’s Loftin?” I shouted, wrenching my arms out of his meat hooks.

“I’m here,” came his voice from behind the Leancan’s back. “Cillian, let her go.”

The vampire dropped my arms and stepped aside. Loftin held a change of clothes in his arms. “I went to get something functional for you to wear. As in, not a nightgown or a ball gown, or whatever it is Alistair put in your room.” He shoved me toward our room, shielding me from the Leancan who lingered to watch our hasty retreat.

“What are you doing out here in just your shift?” he grumbled.

“I thought they’d taken you away again.”

We stepped back into the room and he shut and locked the door behind us. “You were coming to find me?”

I gritted my teeth. “I won’t leave you here.” I knew what they’d do to him.

His expression softened. “Thank you, Karis.” Loftin held the clothing out, locking eyes with me, and brushed his finger across the back of my hand when I took his offering. The movement drew his attention to my nightgown, and I knew he could tell I was affected by his touch. He took a step forward, eyes on my lips and hand reaching out for my jaw.

I stepped away before he touched me again. I wanted his touch, even though I shouldn’t. I craved it.

“Any word on Iric?” I asked instead.

He shook his head.

I mouthed the words, “I’m leaving.” He nodded his silent assent, but in case someone was listening, we pretended to be doing exactly as Finean recommended we should.

“Get dressed. We’ll find something for you to eat. Alistair wants us to go into the forest to train.”

Right, train.

“In case something goes wrong and I blow this place up?” I asked innocently as I walked behind the screen to get dressed. I pulled the nightgown over my head, exchanging it for a white shirt, tight black pants, and a silver-gray tunic, much like the one Finean wore yesterday. Loftin snorted in response. I fingered the embroidered pattern. It was the same. “Where did you get the clothes?”

“Alistair gave them to me. Finean had them made for you last night.”

“He had them made for me? In a night?”

“Apparently,” Loftin replied, seemingly irritated at the King of the Court of Reflections.

They were comfortable and the finest things I’d ever worn in my life, with the exception of the gown I soiled. He blew out a tense breath and I knew the repeated warning about Finean sat impatiently on his tongue.

But he could shove it. I didn’t trust any of them now.

The new clothing also included a pair of boots that fit like they were magically molded to fit my feet. I laced them and jumped up to follow Loftin out of this place. One step closer to freedom.

The dark corridors, hewn from overlapping slabs of solid rock changed as we climbed. “We’re underground,” I observed.

“You were unconscious when you came here.”

We turned a corner where light filtered into a large circular room with a vaulted ceiling. The walls were made of layer upon layer of bone. Femurs, skulls, bones from the arms, ribs, and even spine lined every surface in a macabre wallpaper of decay. “What is this place?” I turned in a circle. Hallways jutted out in every direction like the spokes of a wagon wheel. Fire flickered in each dark corridor.

“These are the catacombs of the Court of Spring.”

“Are all of these bones fae?”

“Fae from the Spring Court. Each hall, with the exception of the one we just took that leads below, holds remains of Seelie fae who have fallen over thousands of years.”

“I thought the fae were immortal.”

“In theory they are, but that’s assuming nothing kills them. You’ve seen they can die, Karis.”

In Ironton, we burned the bodies of our dead because there was no room to spare for burial. Only those who were killed in a mine collapse were left in the earth, like Roane had been. The fire from the pyres reduced the people to nothing more than ash and small chunks of bone. There wasn’t much left to mourn or be reminded of. The people of Ironton were left with their memories—memories that would fade with every passing generation until nothing was left of the person who died. Until no one was there to remember that they’d ever lived.

Here, the fallen were memorialized. These bones, some of which I was sure had been there for almost an eternity, judging by their brittleness, were still strong. They weren’t going to fade or be forgotten. I wondered if the act of preserving their skeletons also preserved their memories. If fae were immortal, someone might still be alive who remembered each of the fallen fae.

Footsteps echoed from a nearby corridor and from the darkness, Alistair emerged. He and Loftin stared at each other icily. It was Loftin who broke the tense silence. “Karis is hungry.”

Alistair’s eyes flicked to mine. “I’ll see that something is brought to her.”

“We’ll be on the surface,” Loftin replied, motioning for me to come with him.

The Leancan didn’t respond. He quietly watched us walk away, but I could feel his stare on my back. Or maybe it was my neck he was considering again. Maybe mentioning hunger around a vampire wasn’t the best idea.

Loftin led me out of the catacombs and into the bright sunlight. My eyes stung and watered in response, and I blinked until they adjusted. We were in a ruin, and judging by the scale of the crumbled walls, the structure that stood here must have been impressive and grand at one time.

“This was the palace of the Court of Spring, where the Queen resided.”

“Nemain killed her?”

He looked away. “Not killed.”

“She’s alive?”

He shook his head. “She isn’t alive, either. Nemain took her power and left her body in stasis. It’s like she’s in a deep sleep and no one’s been able to wake her.”

“How long has she been asleep?” I asked.

“Ten years.”

My heart ached at the thought. Was she conscious? Did she know her home, her entire world was crumbling and lay in waste? Could she feel the land dying without her magic to feed it?

“And your father is the same?”

He nodded, pursing his lips and glancing away.

I walked to one of the walls, sliding my hands over the smooth, marbled, forest green rock. Flecks in the broken stone sparkled in the morning sun. Columns of the same rock had toppled and lay in large round slabs over what would have been an enormous throne room. I imagined the fae dressed in fine gowns and suits, twirling around the floor and sipping faery wine.

Loftin quietly waited as I walked around the ruined palace. The trees just beyond us were gray and dead. Nemain might not have killed all the fae who lived here, but she may as well have. There was nothing alive in this place. I felt like an intruder. Like someone who’d become privy to a stranger’s darkest secret.

Even the rock seemed to scream that I didn’t belong here.

Did it recognize me as Nemain’s daughter?

“We’re supposed to work on uncovering my power. How are we going to do that?”

I startled when Loftin was suddenly in front of me. “I spoke with Finean and Alistair this morning before you woke. Your powers manifest when your emotions are heightened. You were scared when the Banshee attacked, and that fear allowed you to conjure the ball of light ribbons.”

“I got all these powers from my mother?”

He shook his head. “You got many powers from her when you were born, but she took the ribbons of light after you were taken away. That power belonged to the King of Summer. You must have some connection with her, so that the powers she’s absorbed have somehow been transferred to you, too.”

Great.

“Karis, do you remember binding yourself to her somehow so she couldn’t hurt you?”

I shrugged. I didn’t remember enough of anything and certainly not that. “It could explain how you are linked. I can’t imagine Nemain as a mother, or your life as a small child under her control.”

I cleared my throat. “I don’t remember doing it, but when I think back and try to remember my childhood, I feel a great deal of fear.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter how you got the powers she took from the royal fae, only that you have them. I’ve seen you manipulate flame, but can you create it?” He pulled a candle from his pocket and held it in his fingers. The long taper was half-burned and tiny trails of wax had solidified down the smooth sides. “Light the wick,” he instructed, like it should be exceedingly simple for me to do.

His eyes flicked between me and the charred candle wick. I focused on it, thinking about the fibers and what they might look like bathed in flame, but I couldn’t get a clear vision in my mind. I thought about the feeling of heat and the time I walked too close to a campfire and my skirts went up in flames. Iric threw me to the ground and rolled me around until it was put out, and then he checked me for burns. I was fine. Not a single burn or scratch on my skin.

The wick hadn’t even begun to smoke. “Will the flame, Karis.”

“Will the flame,” I grumbled. “Like I’m supposed to be able to will this thing to life,” I sputtered, shoving my sleeve up. The Asper was iridescent on my skin, but every scale shimmered so violently that it appeared to be alive, writhing beneath my flesh.

“You need to focus. Forget about the Asper and will the flame.” He handed the candle to me. “Hold it. Maybe that’ll help.”

I held it loosely, then tighter as I tried to make it catch fire. But nothing happened.

“Make a flame!” he shouted suddenly.

“I can’t make a flame! Nothing is working! I can’t picture it.”

With a flick of his finger, the candle wick caught fire. “Do you see it now?” he asked snidely before blowing it out. Show off. “Your turn.”

I stared at the candle, thinking of it bursting into flames and melting away in a fury of fire and wax. I was about to tell him where to shove the taper, when all of a sudden, he began clapping. Glancing from his hands to the taper, I noticed the wick was on fire.

“Anger is one of your triggers,” he granted softly. He’d been baiting me.

I blew the taper out and threw it onto a slab of stone. A sliver of smoke rose from the wick. “Loftin, what if I get angry and overreact? If I’m able to conjure fire, create light ribbons, build air bubbles, and make the earth quake…what if I lose control?”

“Air bubbles and earthquakes?” he asked carefully.

I winced. “Yeah.”

He pinched his lips together. “You can hurt someone if you lose control. And as much as I hate to admit it, Finean is right. You need to train; both to learn your powers, and to learn to control them and your emotions.” Pausing, he remarked, “You look like you’re somewhere else,” interrupting my thoughts.

“I’m worried about Iric.”

“Finean will find him,” he mused nonchalantly. But the look he gave me affirmed that it wasn’t time to run yet. I glanced around, probing for the shadows watching over us. Probably Leancan.

“How will he find him?”

“Mirrors, water, metal. If there’s anything reflective, he can see what the mirrored surface sees.”

I nodded once, biting my lip. Iric was in the woods somewhere. Unless he stopped for water, I wasn’t sure he’d be near anything reflective.

Loftin pulled a piece of fruit from his pocket. It was still ripe. I grabbed for the red orb, but he raised his hand, keeping it out of my reach. A playful smile spread over his face. “Not so fast. I want you to make it rot.”

“Why?” That was a waste. There was so little in this place, why would I want to make a good piece of fruit go bad?

“To see if you can.”

“It’ll rot anyway if it sits there. Why should I help it along?”

“Karis?”

“Hmm?”

He sat it on a stone in front of me. “Make it rot.”

I blew out a frustrated breath. Fine. I reached out to grab the apple, but he stopped me.

“Try from there first.”

“It would be easier if I held it,” I whined.

He smiled as if to say it sure would.

“You’ve seen rotten fruit. You’ve felt it and know how it smells. Make it rot, Karis.”

I shook my head. “No.”

Loftin smiled. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Make. It. Rot.”

I shook my head. The people in Ironton were starving. I wouldn’t make this fruit go bad, not when they needed food.

With a flash of metal, Loftin cleaved the fruit in two.

The tips of my ears heated. “You have no idea what it’s like!”

He scoffed. “I don’t? Oh, just tell me how much I’ve eaten over the last ten years. Tell me what a glutton I am. You don’t know anything about what I’ve done to survive. You think you’re the only ones who went hungry? Was it just your family, the people of the Trenches, or all of Ironton who suffer so badly?”

“The Slopers have plenty to eat.”

“And why is that?”

“Because they have iron to purchase food with!” I fumed.

“And why do they have so much more than the people of the Trenches?”

My hands shook with anger. I’d never seen them, but the Slopers all had red hair, according to Iric. The color supposedly hated by the fae. Because of this hereditary trait, they deserved to be exalted. The gods had smiled on their families and their ancestors by giving them the land—rich in iron, a metal the fae also hated. And we were enslaved to the way of life to which we were born, simply because our hair was dark or fair or anything but red. It was ridiculous.

Red like their hair.

Red like the peel of this apple.

The fae hated red? I’d yet to see a fae who didn’t love the color of blood, and every human and fae I’d ever seen bled the same crimson hue.

“Karis,” came Loftin’s voice.

But I couldn’t see. A black shroud of buzzing, angry wasps writhed over my vision.

“Karis, stop,” he warned. Hands gripped my arms and shook until my vision cleared. “Stop!” Loftin barked. “Just stop.”

His face was pale. The tendons on his neck were taut and his pulse pounded along the column of his throat as his orange eyes searched mine, wary and afraid. I swallowed and searched beyond him. There was no fruit, no taper, not even the marble slab remained. Everything had been turned to dark ash.

I covered my mouth with trembling fingers. “Oh, no.”

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” he tried to reassure me. But what else could he say? I turned it all into nothing. I wasn’t safe, and neither was he as long as he was with me. No one was, if I could reduce something so solid and alive to soft, gray remnants. The breeze began to scatter the ashes, hiding what I’d done.

Squeezing my temples, I tried to quiet the roaring of my heartbeat in my ears. In my head. My lungs burned.

Loftin approached with measured steps. “No,” I gritted, backing away from him.

“Calm down. You only did what I asked.”

“You shouldn’t have asked it.”

“It was only an apple, Karis.”

I looked into his eyes and saw he didn’t believe the words he’d just said, either. If I could do that to an apple, to solid stone, I could obliterate anything. My lungs clawed for air, but couldn’t reach any.

I ran.