Queens of Mist and Madness (Fae Isles, #4)

by Lisette Marshall

‘Yes,’ I made myself say. ‘Yes, I understand, but …’

‘I’m honestly not sure how we got here.’ I sucked in a long breath. Best to move the conversation elsewhere, then. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to hear you won’t blindly sacrifice me to save the world, but …’ His sharp-edged features mellowed as he tilted his head, eyebrow coming up a fraction. ‘But you’d still prefer to sacrifice yourself?’ And all of a sudden there was no trace of that haunted vigilance left on his face.

‘Well, I would prefer not to sacrifice anyone,’ I said, allowing myself a cautious huff by way of experiment. His expression didn’t change – thank the gods. ‘But right now, my alternative is letting down all the people who rely on me to save them, and how am I supposed to justify holding back in that situation? Hell, even Zera expected me to … to …’ To save the world. To do the job I promised her I would. I didn’t manage to finish the sentence; it tasted far, far too much like failure.

‘And you’re telling me that you truly believe Zera would want you to use your godsworn magic in this way? After all the doubts she had in the first place?’ I swallowed, lips pressed tight together. I didn’t dare to trust that my voice would come out steady. ‘Yes,’ he said, mirthless smile tugging at his lips. ‘That’s what I would think, too.’

‘But what if we’re wrong,’ I whispered, swayed by the lure of the easy way out. ‘What if she does want—’ ‘Em, she didn’t give these powers to whoever you wish you could be.’ His eyes burned so piercingly sharp between the deceptive softness of his lashes; his low, rough voice was the gentlest punch in the gut. ‘She gave them to you. Because of the choices you would make with them. Because of the empathic capacity and moral compass that you showed her. So why are you trying to get rid of those very things now, as if you’re failing her by doing exactly what she trusted you to do?’ My knees were trembling. I wasn’t sure when they’d started. ‘You don’t want to use the damn magic,’ he added wryly, sending me a slight, one-shouldered shrug. ‘So don’t use it. Do something better instead. You’re allowed to keep it that simple, cactus.’ It sounded like a lie, all of it – not because he was a liar, but because it seemed unreasonable for the truth to be so convenient. ‘But if Thysandra never talks …’ ‘Sooner or later, she will.’ He closed his eyes for a brief instant. ‘I did, too, in the end.’

‘Go do one thing, cactus,’ Creon said softly, demon eyes reading every line on my face. ‘Just one. Enough to not feel lazy and useless at the end of the day. Then get back here and let me fuck you senseless. You deserve it.’

I pushed myself a few inches away from him and managed a stiff, ‘I’ll … consider the invitation.’ ‘Oh, I strongly suggest you do.’ His smile was more animal than fae. ‘I’ll find you if you don’t.’

‘I’ll try to be quick,’ I managed. ‘Good.’ The satisfaction in that rough drawl alone could have had me climaxing on the spot. ‘Because I definitely won’t be.’

‘So you decided Thysandra is the solution for you?’ I said, resting the back of my head against the cold alf steel door. ‘To your outsiderness, I mean.’ ‘Well,’ Naxi said, face darkening as she pouted, ‘at least she’s devoted her heart and soul to people without a moral compass before, hasn’t she?’ It almost sounded like a plea – as if she needed me to agree. As if her future depended on my approval. I rubbed my face, suppressing the urge to groan. ‘Right. And she isn’t scared of you.’ ‘Not of me.’ A long-suffering sigh. ‘Just of what she feels around me, really.’ You’d better keep Anaxia away from me, Thysandra had snapped as I was leaving her cell,

‘Well, that sounds like a solid basis for love.’ Naxi couldn’t have looked more revolted if I’d pushed a rotting apple under her nose. ‘I don’t feel love.’ ‘Oh, apologies,’ I said, taking the risk of rolling my eyes at her. ‘I didn’t know the word was offensive.’ She snort-laughed at that. ‘So what is she to you, then?’ I added. ‘If love doesn’t have anything to do with it?’ ‘Oh, I have decided it would vastly improve my quality of life to have her,’ Naxi said without a moment of hesitation. Her tone was dreamy, her tug at the shawl around her shoulders strangely brusque in comparison. ‘To the extent that I think I might need her. Not that you should tell her that, of course – she’d run away screaming.’ I managed a laugh. ‘Can’t in all honesty say I’d blame her.’ Her grin was wolfish. ‘Good thing she’s chained down, then.’

‘Thank you, Emelin.’ She almost sang the words, that familiar melodious cadence. ‘I’ll let you know when she tells me anything important.’ ‘Thank you.’ I forced myself to smile. Too late to turn back, now; the best I could do was hope and have faith. ‘Have a good day, then.’ ‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll have a wonderful day,’ she said, laughing again as she skipped towards the door of cell number 104. Gods help me. And gods help Thysandra, most of all.

Emelin, We’ve been hoping you would reach out to us. The White City is pleased and ready to welcome you. If it suits, watchmen will be waiting for you by the gate at sunrise tomorrow; no bargains are required, but please make sure no companions of yours approach the city walls too closely. Sincerely, Rosalind, Consul of the White City

‘So, do you think it’s a trap of some sort?’ I said, fighting to suppress the faintest wobble of my voice and soldiering on with my search. ‘That they’re only welcoming me inside for some hidden reasons of their own?’ ‘Doesn’t make sense either.’ The frustration in his voice was palpable. ‘I can’t see why they would want to harm you or trap you inside the city. You’re not a threat to them, and they should know it would cause them a damn lot of trouble with the rest of us.’

‘Creon?’ I said cautiously. ‘I don’t think you’ll be in serious danger,’ he muttered in that slow, rough voice that sent shivers down my spine even now. He still wouldn’t meet my gaze, his frown contorting the inked scar through his eyebrow to a grisly gash. ‘But something is off all the same, and I wish we could figure it out before you have to walk into that city on your own. I hate leaving you to deal with this by yourself.’ Which sounded sensible enough. And then again, that darkness in his eyes

‘When you’ve spent days looking like you’re waiting for the gallows? I may have kept quiet, but don’t insult me by pretending I’m blind enough not to notice – so what is it, Creon?’ He closed his eyes. ‘I said—’ ‘That you’re trying to figure out what you’ll be doing in the coming days.’ I gestured wildly at the rest of the Underground, almost knocking over one of Lyn’s clothing racks. ‘Which doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it? Ask Agenor for some task, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to run you ragged from dawn to dusk. As long as you’re not throwing yourself headfirst into any fae armies again—’ ‘Counting swords and stirring poisons?’ he sharply cut in, lips curling into a sneer that was every inch the spurned, furious fae prince. Like a snake coiling to strike, an animal backed into a corner of its own making. ‘Is that really what you want me to be doing, then? Sitting around below the earth for days and wasting my time on jobs any fool could do, while you’re out there risking your life and sanity to save the world?’

‘No,’ he interrupted, voice sharp and urgent as he crossed the three, four steps between us. ‘On every last crumb of honour I have in me, cactus – no. You’re the very last person in the world I would ever begrudge anything, powers or otherwise. I’m in awe of all you’re achieving. All I want is for you to get more of it, and I’d rather hand over my own magic to you than deny you a single bloody thing you deserve. Jealousy has nothing to do with any of this. Please.’

He towered over me, six solid feet of magic and muscle – a stark, elegant shadow against the colourful cacophony of Lyn’s wardrobe, and yet his eyes were darker still. They held my gaze with that unnerving mixture of shock and anguish, some emotion that was vulnerable before it was anything else – as if a single word more from my lips might shatter him. As if my questions had already broken something deep within, snapped him like a thread of delicate silk, and left him bleeding out behind that devastating façade.

‘Creon?’ I breathed, closing my eyes. ‘I’m having trouble watching you do all you need to do and not being able to take anything off your plate,’ he muttered, breath warming the crown of my head as he brushed his lips over my hair. ‘I’m not used to it – being powerless. Drives me mad to watch you drive yourself to the edge of insanity without being able to do anything about it.’

‘Let me keep you sane, then, love. I promise I’m fine. Stop worrying yourself when there’s nothing to worry about – I promise.’ Love. I should not be listening, I should not give in so easily – but Zera help me, the way he spoke that one coveted word … The reverent twist of his lips. The heat of his breath on my cheek. The soft rasp of that melodious baritone, trailing down my spine like the tender scrape of nails, setting skin and blood on fire … I promise. A lie. I knew it was a lie. But it was such a sweet one, and I would be so glad to believe it

‘Please.’ The word was a sob, the despair in my voice nothing short of pathetic. I bucked against the cage of his fingers, to no avail – he didn’t yield the slightest fraction of an inch. ‘Unbearable, isn’t it?’ he whispered, kissing my temple as I fought. ‘Feeling useless?’

‘Tell me you need me.’ Another inch down. Ripples of pleasure spread wherever he touched me, as if my body was the still surface of a lake and he was the night breeze itself, leaving no part of me unstirred. His husky voice sent uncontrollable shudders down my spine. ‘Tell me you can’t do this without me.’ ‘I need you— Oh, gods.’ His fingertips had slipped past the hem of my dress and reached the bare skin of my thigh, sending a flurry of sparks into the darkest, deepest core of me. Another sob fell from my lips. ‘I’d do anything – anything – just to have you—

‘You’ll destroy me one day, cactus,’ he whispered, and I couldn’t tell whether it was laughter or some other emotion choking his voice. ‘You’ll be the utter ruin of me, and hell take me, you’ll be worth every moment of it.’ That little tremor … I should ask. I should worry.

I waited. Something about those clever blue eyes told me she’d see through my guise of the humble, innocent human girl the moment I opened my mouth. ‘So there you are,’ she said as she finally lifted her gaze back up to my face – speaking the words slowly, thoughtfully, as if to taste every letter of them. ‘Emelin of Agenor’s house.’ There was a knifelike precision to that greeting. I know who you are, the crystal-clear message between the lines said. I know what you are. Signing your letter as a human did not fool me for half a second, girl. As she was right, I decided not to insult her intelligence by correcting her.

So either she was playing some bigger game – luring me into an unwise action I couldn’t yet foresee, or even just observing what I would do with my apparent freedom – or … Or she had some other reason to trust me. I really had to stop thinking about my gods-damned parents.

Ally?

‘In short, before considering any formal proposals regarding a cooperation between your Alliance and the city, the consulate wants to have a clearer impression of whether you are the sort of person whose proposals we should be welcoming at all. So it has been agreed that I would first have a word with you to better understand where you stand on certain issues that have been, let’s say, reason for doubt among the better-informed citizenry, and that we will continue to more concrete negotiations if and only if we feel there is any use in doing so.’

‘So what are these reasons for doubt you’re alluding to?’ ‘Oh, there are several,’ she dryly informed me. ‘Your apparent connection, or friendship or whatever it may be, with Creon Hytherion, just to name one.’ It took me a moment or two to figure out what part of that question did not fit the rest of the conversation. Creon Hytherion. Not the Silent Death, like every other human I’d ever heard referring to him. And she had pronounced that fae title so easily, her accent so fluent; she had to know the language rather well.

‘Of course,’ she added before I could regroup my wits and send them back into battle, ‘you don’t appear to be that frightened of him at all, from what I’ve heard.’ It was an uncharacteristically unsubtle request for more information, that question – an optimistic invitation to tell her exactly what my relationship to Creon Hytherion encompassed. Would a woman like her really be that transparent? I felt like she was spinning the conversation around me, a clever thread here, an innocent question there, and I wouldn’t notice where she was truly going until she started tightening the net around me. ‘I would say,’ I said, choosing my words with painstaking care, ‘that it’s generally rather useful to have some frightening allies on our side.’

‘Would you say your father falls into that category, too?’ I shrugged. ‘Agenor is powerful enough, but I’m not sure I’d call him frightening.’ ‘He’s been on the Mother’s side for a while, though,’ she retorted – without even a moment of pause, as if this was a part of the conversation she’d prepared well in advance. ‘That in itself seems to be an ominous sign, wouldn’t you say?’ ‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare to claim he’s not an idiot,’ I said, and that elicited an unexpected chuckle from her. ‘But I’m fully sure that he no longer supports the Mother or the fae empire in general and hasn’t done so in my lifetime.’

‘Then how come you did not grow up with him?’ ‘The Mother was keeping him prisoner while I was born. Apparently, she realised he was developing a little more sympathy for her human slaves than she was comfortable with.’ There – that should be a convincing enough argument in favour of his good intentions, shouldn’t it? ‘By the time she released him and he returned to the Crimson Court, both my mother and I were gone.’ Rosalind was silent for a moment, staring ahead with a small frown on her face as she walked. ‘And you believe his story?’ ‘Yes.’

‘Young woman no one’s ever heard of before, showing up in the heart of the Crimson Court to blind the Mother, only to subsequently vanish from the surface of the earth again for weeks. Reemerging at the Golden Court a little later, damaging the empire’s army badly with an unknown poison no one has ever heard of. Vanishing for months again, then turning up at a nymph isle to destroy an entire fleet singlehandedly—’ ‘I had a little help,’ I said modestly. Rosalind gave a chuckle. ‘And if I substitute “half a fleet”, clearly all my questions have been answered at once.’ I snorted a laugh and picked up a biscuit, wondering just how much I could reasonably be expected to tell a woman whose existence I had not known of until two days ago. ‘Most of it sounds more dramatic than it was in the moment, honestly. The core of the story is I’m trying to kill the Mother, and I think that does answer most of the questions in one way or another.’

‘So I’ve been growing the network,’ she added, eyes cast down. ‘Finding allies. Accumulating power. Nurturing any support I could find for outward involvement, any understanding that even the White City’s peace might not be forever, and hoping I would be ready by the time change came around and someone – anyone – began moving against the Mother.’

She laughed. ‘What would you need?’ ‘The city’s stamp of approval, mostly,’ I admitted, rubbing my eyes. Damn it, she could have the details of our plans. ‘We’ve been thinking of visiting the other human isles, persuading them to rebel and create unwelcome distractions for the Mother. Bad moment for her to have issues with her supply chains of food and fuel. It would force her to send out people she’d really want around during the fighting itself.’ Her eyes had narrowed. ‘Is this one of your father’s ideas?’ Not a bad guess, in light of Agenor’s reputation. I felt a little sheepish as I shrugged and said, ‘Mine, mostly.’

‘I know this is technically none of my concern,’ Rosalind finally said, and the words came out a little strained, as if she had thought about them too hard to get them over her lips in a remotely natural fashion, ‘but would it be terribly impolite for me to ask you for a little summary of those two decades? And the last year, too, if possible? If I have to convince a room full of sceptical colleagues of your good intentions, some knowledge of your background may come in useful.’ I hesitated. ‘And that’s the only reason?’ ‘Oh, no,’ she admitted with a wry, fleeting smile. ‘I’m just nosy, too.’

Could this be her mom?

‘Emelin?’ she interrupted, opening her eyes. I fell silent. For a moment I thought she might hug me, the way her fingers clenched and unclenched at her side, like pent-up impulses barely held in check. But she only stood straighter. Only tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and hurriedly said, ‘Please remember that you are not to blame for their judgement, will you? You did not scare them. You did not turn them into cowards. Plenty of humans would have been proud to call themselves your parents – you were very, very unlucky, that is all.’

Humans never look up, Creon had once signed during a long day of magic training, discussing the tricks and pitfalls of fighting fae. It’s the wings, I suppose. They never seem to realise the danger could be coming from above. ‘You’d better be right,’ I mumbled at him, clambering onto the banisters to reach for the sturdy roof beams. ‘I’m really not in the mood to murder anyone.’ I could have sworn he was laughing somewhere, somehow.

‘Halbert will have our heads if we tell him we lost her,’ one of them hissed, so close I could hear the strain in his voice, and no matter how hard I was biting my tongue, I nearly let out a gasp.

My pursuer gave off the air of a man who’s bet his house in a game of cards and lost it. His attempt at defiant scepticism came out like childish obstinacy – ‘But if the iron wasn’t as pure as we’re thinking …’ Endorsing, indirectly, the power of iron as a diagnostic tool. I huffed a laugh, meaning it this time, and said, ‘Well, if the coins miraculously turn into mud tomorrow morning, I’m sure every single person in this city will know where to find me. Really, I hardly picked the most convenient location to start my criminal career.’ Open laughter around me, now; his broad, unshaven face reddened dangerously. ‘But—’ ‘Look, it’s fine,’ I interrupted, waving the start of that objection away. ‘We all make mistakes, don’t we? It’s wonderful you’re looking out for your fellow citizens. Can I buy you a drink to compensate, maybe? I’m sure we’ll get along just fine if given the chance.’

‘Do I correctly understand that you’re asking me what reasons I have to trust Creon Hytherion?’ Judging by his smug expression, that was not what he was asking at all, but he said, ‘That would be a good start, yes.’ ‘In that case,’ I said slowly, ‘do you know what demons are?’ The hall remained icily quiet. Judging by the infinitesimal faltering of Halbert’s smirk, the answer to that question was negative. Good. ‘They’re creatures capable of affecting the feelings of others,’ I continued, voice deliberately flat. ‘Whatever a demon makes you feel, he will feel the opposite. Alternatively, if a demon stops you from feeling something, he will feel the sensation instead.’

‘Creon is half demon,’ I said. More than a few people gasped behind me. ‘I know all the same stories you do – I hated him as much as you do, at the start. Until he returned from one of his assignments on the brink of death and I realised – I finally understood – why no one ever screams under his knives. They don’t feel the pain. He is the one feeling it all, instead – the one who has felt it all for almost a century and a half.’ It had become impossible to separate the gasping from the urgent mutters behind me, the shock rippling across the galleries on either side of the hall. The corners of Halbert’s lips had not so much sagged as stiffened – the look of a man holding on to his plans and composure by his fingertips. ‘So when I realised he’d done all that to himself,’ I said with a shrug, ‘that he stuck the burning pokers into his own eyes and flayed the skin off his own back, for the simple reason that he was the only one at her gods-damned court who would ever show such mercy to the people she wanted dead … Well, after that I couldn’t really go back to hating him, could I?’

‘I see,’ Halbert said, and something about his tone told me the fight wasn’t over yet. Like an archer taking aim. Like a poisoner counting the drops falling into an innocent drink. ‘So that is why you jumped into his bed – to comfort him?’

‘Halbert!’ Rosalind snapped, eyes shooting back and forth between the spectators and me with disconcerting urgency. ‘This is not—’ ‘But it is relevant, esteemed colleague.’ Oh, the unholy glee in his eyes – I wondered if the war even mattered to him at all, if this wasn’t just a game between him and Rosalind to his mind. ‘It’s relevant to everyone in this room. We’ve all lost friends to that monster, haven’t we? We’ve lost family to that monster?’

‘And as Emelin clearly explained a minute ago, there’s a little more to those executions than—’ ‘Emelin is suspiciously silent, though, isn’t she?’ He turned to me, grinning like a man who’s just scored the winning point in a particularly exciting game of hearts and bells. ‘Almost as if she’s trying to hide something. Tell us, Emelin – are they true, the rumours? Did you fuck him?’

But I was not lying about Creon again. I’d sworn I would never lie about Creon again. ‘You make it sound like a crime, Halbert,’ I heard myself say, and somehow my voice was still bright and clear over the roar of the audience, my words carried swiftly to the back of the hall by dozens of eager whispers. ‘You do realise it’s a rather common activity between adults in love, don’t you?’

‘Well,’ Norris said, glancing around somewhat nervously. ‘I do suppose that changes things, if …’ A defeat – but gods help me, somehow my heart refused to feel defeated. A brand new fight came bubbling up in my chest as I stood there, scorn and fury raining down around me; it rose with a stubborn spite that surprised me as much as anyone, a resolve I hadn’t known I possessed.

‘Changes things?’ I said coolly, and the noise died down a little – even the most vehement of onlookers too curious to miss a single word. ‘Why? Because I’m prepared to be honest with you? Would you have preferred for me to lie?’ ‘We would have preferred you not to be spreading your legs for a man with human blood on his hands,’ Halbert cut in, rising from his seat with a swagger that drew a new round of cheers from the audience. He was clearly starting to enjoy himself. ‘We would have preferred for you to possess a modicum of self-respect, rather than—’ ‘That’s enough,’ Rosalind burst out.

‘This is beyond the pale even for you,’ she spat, rising to her feet as well – a head and a half shorter than Halbert, but the cold fire burning in those sharp blue eyes made up for every inch of it. ‘You’re supposed to be a consul of the White City, not some lecherous gossip milking matters of life and death for scandal!’ ‘And you,’ Halbert returned, still smiling gleefully, ‘are equally supposed to be a consul of the White City, rather than a champion of little fae whores without a grain of—’ She moved so fast I didn’t even see it coming. Three, four steps. A blur of white as her arm swung up, and then the smack of her palm against his cheek, reverberating through the stunned hall like a thunderclap,

‘Rosalind!’ Norris panted, jerking back in his chair as if she might be coming for him next. She didn’t seem to hear any of us. ‘Don’t you dare.’ Her voice had gone low and hoarse, the words spat into Halbert’s face as he dazedly prodded his reddening cheek. Her hands had balled into white-knuckled fists. ‘Don’t you dare call my daughter a fae whore ever again, you fucking swine.’

‘What?’ I heard myself say. ‘What?’ Halbert said in the same moment. ‘Oh, and yes, I did the same thing,’ she bit out, breathing heavily as she stepped away from him and wiped her palm on her robes. ‘Spread my legs for a man with human blood on his hands. So are you going to spit on me, now? Are any of you?’ Rosalind. Allie. My thoughts wouldn’t move swift enough, nimble enough, to wrap themselves around whatever the hell was happening. ‘Here’s what you don’t understand,’ she added, turning away from Halbert and his sagging jaw, her voice loud and clear in the breathless silence. ‘What none of you understands. This isn’t about liking or disliking. It isn’t about spotless morals or clearly drawn lines. It’s about survival – of you and me as much as of anyone trying to live outside these walls.’

‘The Mother’s empire is only getting stronger,’ Rosalind continued, her sharp words reaching me from miles and miles away – marching on, unaffected, as if the floor wasn’t sinking away beneath my feet. As if she hadn’t just upended my entire existence with a single resounding slap and a few snapped words. ‘The rest of the world is only getting weaker. If they don’t kill the bitch now, they never will – and once she’s done away with that bigger threat between our borders, where do you all think her eyes will wander next? Do you really believe she’ll contently sit down on that throne she built from our bones and gladly accept there is nothing left to conquer?’ You seem to have inherited your mother’s talent for shouting rather convincingly, Agenor had said, and gods help me, I could see it now – the paling faces as her words sank in, the shocked murmurs rippling through their ranks.

‘I stood before that throne, twenty-two years ago,’ she said, and all I heard was that number, the weight behind it. Twenty-two years. Just before you were born. ‘I know exactly what her magic is capable of. So trust me, by the time she’s able to devote a century or two to this city, by the time she no longer has any magical enemies to worry about … The walls will fall. Sooner or later, I promise you they will.’