Night's End (4 page)

He moved back, holding me by my shoulders. “I know you aren't going to like this, but there is a way to find out. We have to be cautious about how we go about it so word doesn't get around, however.”

I knew exactly what he was talking about, and he was right: I didn't like it.

The shamans of the Cambyra Fae had a procedure they could perform. Painful and intrusive, the ritual allowed them to delve into someone's mind, to root through their thoughts and feelings and secrets. Essentially it came down to a form of mental torture. But it got the job done. And everyone in the Barrow had been through it before I took the throne, so either someone new had joined us, or someone's loyalty had been turned after the fact.

“I don't want to order that.” Even as I said the words, I knew that I was fighting a losing battle. There was no other option. Simply going around asking,
“By the way, are you working for Myst now?”
wasn't going to get me anywhere, and I knew it. “It's mind-rape,” I whispered.

“Perhaps so, but it might also save our people. Leave a spy from Myst loose in this Barrow, and the bitch will have a good chance of sweeping through here again. And this time, Myst won't leave
anyone
alive. If she gains a foothold again, rest assured the Barrow will be slick with blood and bone and gristle.”

“And she'll turn everyone who she can use. And the rest . . . food for the Shadow Hunters.” I hung my head. “I really don't have a choice, do I?”

Grieve slowly backed away and knelt before me. “You are the Queen of Snow and Ice. Wear your crown and wield your power.”

And so, reluctantly, I whispered, “Then how do we go about this without word getting out?”

“We tell no one else. Not Luna, not Peyton or Kaylin.” The warning in his voice was clear—our friends couldn't know what was going on. “We visit the shamans. They alone can be trusted. They are chosen from birth for their discipline and power.” He rose, staring into my eyes. “And first, they put me to the test.”

“
You?
” Startled, I began to shake my head. “Not you—”

But Grieve took my hands and gently brushed my wrist with his razor-sharp teeth. A thin red weal rose as blood welled up. Even as I responded, melting under his touch, he shook his head.

“Remember, my love. I belonged to Myst for a time. I carry her blood in my body. She turned me into one of the Vampiric Fae, and while I have gained a modicum of control, as Queen, you cannot be complacent. You cannot trust even me, not without knowing for certain.”

And so, my heart heavy, we returned to the main chamber and told everyone to sit tight. And then Grieve and I made our way through the Barrow, to where the shamans lived. To where I would order them to torture the truth from my beloved husband and the rest of my people.

Chapter 2

Deep into the Barrow we made our way, past guards, past the places where the ordinary citizens were allowed. We were headed into the heart of the Court of Snow and Ice. To the very core from whence the magic of this realm emanated. My heartstone might have revived the Court, but the shamans guarded the magic, communed with the Elementals, and kept the light flickering within the ice. Without them, the Barrow would be harsh and brutal. They were the keepers of comfort, the dreamers of dreams, the visionaries who walked between the worlds. They were the eyes and ears of my land.

The tunnel was labyrinthine and long, and as Grieve and I followed the twisting passages, accompanied by Check and Fearless, I thought back to the days of my life, less than two months ago, and how different my world had been.

My name is Cicely Waters, and I'm a Wind Witch. And now I'm the Queen of Snow and Ice and the Fae Queen of Winter.

My journey down this road began at birth, though of course, I didn't know it then. My cousin Rhiannon and I were born on the same day—the summer solstice. Rhia was born in the morning, during the waxing half of the year, and I was born during twilight, after the tide had turned and the year had begun to wane. We called ourselves twin cousins.

Aunt Heather—Rhiannon's mother—called us fire and ice, amber and jet, for Rhiannon was born tall and willowy with curling red hair, and I was born short and pale, with long, smooth, black hair. Our eyes had been different then. When she took the throne of Summer, Rhiannon's eye color changed from hazel to gold. And as I ascended to the helm of Winter, mine changed from emerald to the frozen blue of northern ice.

When we were five, my cousin and I met Grieve and Chatter out in the woods, and they taught us how to tap into our magic. The magical Fae prince and his friend became our mentors, and by the next year, when Krystal, my drunken and drug-addicted mother, dragged me off on a journey that would last the next nineteen years of my life, I was prepared for the ordeal to come. Grieve had bound Ulean to me by then, and with her help, I was able to survive the cruel underbelly of the cities through which we traveled.

We'd never stopped long in one place, hitchhiking most of our way up and down the west coast. I explored the seedy streets as my mother sold her body to vamps and to men. I'd learned quickly that she wasn't cut out for survival. Krystal was on a one-way path to self-destruction, and I didn't want to go down with her. Even at six years old, I knew that if we were to stay alive, I'd have to figure out how to keep us going.

So Ulean warned me when danger was near. She told me when to run, when to hide. I'd played hide-and-seek with rapists and thieves; I'd hustled Krystal out of the dives we lived in too many times when the landlord was on his way down the hall carrying a baseball bat, looking for his money.

When we were first on the streets, I'd met Uncle Brody, an old black man with a heart a mile wide. He'd taken one look at my situation and done his best to teach me how to survive. I learned a lot of street smarts from the man, and would be forever in his debt. Uncle Brody's Rules he called the set of guidelines he'd taught me. By the time Krystal dragged me out of that city—wherever it was, I could never keep them clear in my mind, one place was just the same as the next—I was older than I ever should have been at that age. But I was ready to play the game.

So we ran, from city to city, from man to man, as Krystal sought to escape the visions in her head. She was one of the magic-born, and she hated her ability to read thoughts. So she steeped herself in booze and drugs to escape. But there was no real way to leave it behind. If you have the power, that's it. She refused to accept my abilities, too, and so I kept quiet and used them on the sly. Meanwhile, Krystal sank so deep that no one could reach her. Not even me, her daughter.

By the time she died in an alley, drained by some vamp, I was staying with her out of a sense of responsibility. Love? What's love when you have to take over your own mothering? When you have to mother the woman who gave you birth because she fucked herself up so bad?

The day I found her, sprawled there, throat ripped out, I realized that any love I thought I had left was curiously absent. I felt sorry for her, like I would any stranger, but she was just some poor hooker who had lost the game. I fished through her pockets, took her wallet and anything that might identify her, then I walked away. When I was long gone, I called in an anonymous tip to the cops. I never looked back.

I took to the road on my own, winning a car in a game of street craps. And from there I restlessly prowled, always wanting to return home for good but never getting up the nerve to ask.

Two years later, my aunt Heather sent a message on the wind. She needed me. As a teen, I'd been allowed to take a few trips back to see my cousin and aunt. Each time I'd wanted to stay, but the knowledge that Krystal wouldn't survive without me haunted me and I always went back to her.

But now, Heather was frantic. Something was wrong at the Veil House, and would I please come home. Feeling happy for the first time in years, I rushed back to New Forest, only to find my aunt had been abducted by Myst in a war waging between ancient forces.

That was about two months ago. And now, here I was, a thousand miles away from the night I was pulled back into New Forest, Washington. I'd parked my car in the lot of a hotel, and walked into a life I'd never expected to live.

Reunited with my cousin, and now married to Grieve, I was a woman instead of a child. A woman fighting a desperate battle against the Vampiric Queen of the Indigo Court. And I wasn't all that sure we were going to win.

The tunnels through the Barrow grew narrower and darker. They were infrequently used, and few dared to come this far. The shamans of the Cambyra Courts had a frightening reputation, and they scared the hell out of people, which was just as well, because it meant they didn't get overwhelmed by curious members of the Court.

The walls glistened, and I realized that we were in a series of ice tunnels—glacial passages leading out of the actual Barrow into the depths of the ice field that spread out as far as the eye could see. We were still within the magical boundaries of my Court, that much I knew, but here the ice was illuminated from within, glowing with soft white and violet sparkles. The lights flickered, as if emanating from some cold flame deep inside the core of the ice sheet, and when I looked down at my feet, I realized the surface of the floor was the same smooth glass. But we glided over it as if it were a faint mist.

My transformation into the Queen of Winter had changed me into a creature of the snow and ice, and the elements were now my blood and soul. I belonged to Winter as sure as the flakes that blanketed the land.

Grieve moved in silence, his face set in a stony expression. Once we had married and he had taken the position of King, he had changed subtly, grown older in a way. His feral nature would never be tamed, but once he accepted the responsibility for our people, his stature had shifted. He had become regal, and to a degree, stern.

I glanced back at Check and Fearless, who walked a few steps behind us. While they were also suspect, we'd had to bring them with us. I couldn't go wandering around without protection, and to order them to stay behind would only put everyone on alert.

But Grieve and I kept our eyes open, and with Ulean following, she could warn me before they moved more than an inch to attack. Ulean had my back, and she always would.

The tunnels ran deep, a labyrinth spiraling toward the shamans' lair, and as we continued, it grew progressively colder. I watched the puffs of air hang in front of my face, freezing and then exploding into a fine powder. The decreasing temperatures told me we were reaching the outskirts of the Barrow, which meant from here on out, the wild would encroach, and even though we were still within the boundaries of the Court, we would do well to be wary.

There were no branches or forks along the way. These tunnels led in one direction only, straight to the shamans. There were no opportunities for any thing or any person to burrow in from an alternative entrance. I had no clue if there was an exit from their chambers to the outside, but if there was, it would lead into the chill desolation of the realm, where nothing could survive unless it was already acclimated to the area.

After a while, I fell into a light daze, not knowing how long we had been walking. I wasn't tired, per se; everything had just become a blur.

The Fae Courts existed in their own world. Outside their boundaries, time flowed like a river, but inside? A week spent in the realm of Faerie could easily translate into minutes in the outer world. Or decades, depending on the will of the Queen. And here, I was the one who set the pace, though I didn't know how to tinker with time yet. The thought scared the fuck out of me. What if I screwed up a friend who came to visit? What if I messed with someone's life, keeping them here too long as the outer world passed them by? But sooner or later, I'd have to learn how to adjust the flow of the realm.

“Are we nearly there?” I glanced over at Grieve, wanting to take his hand. But now that we had taken the throne, when we were in public we had to watch our decorum. A kiss? Was acceptable in certain quarters. Holding hands? Passable, depending on the situation. But snuggling and cuddling? All of those affections had to remain in our chambers now. I didn't like this part of being Queen much, but there was nothing we could do about it. At least, not yet. Perhaps in time I could change tradition, but right now we had a war to focus on. Changing the stance on how much PDA the royals were allowed, well—it wasn't exactly high on the priority list.

“We are. It takes time to reach the shamans because they wanted to avoid the chance for invaders to reach them quickly. Gives them a chance to set up defense. That's how they kept fairly immune from Myst's first attack. Same with the Court of Rivers and Rushes.”

Grieve grinned. “I can feel your desire, you know.” He reached out and, with light fingers, caressed my hand. I lingered over his touch, then reluctantly pulled away. My wolf let out a low rumble in response. Grieve wanted me. It was a nice reassurance.

The tattoo on my stomach was that of a wolf's head, staring out from in front of a trailing vine of silver roses and purple skulls. Running from my hip to the opposite ribs, it linked Grieve to me—he was a wolf-shifter—and I could feel his energy through it. When he was upset, it growled; when he was hungry for me, desire emanated from the core of the wolf. When he was in pain, I felt his pain.

I was marked with three other tattoos. On both upper arms I had identical bands, a silver dagger through the moon with a pair of owls flying past. On my breast, a feral Fae girl hid behind a bush. They all connected to facets of me—they all were part of my essence and core.

I nodded. “I thought as much.”

A moment later, Check pointed out a shift in the color of the ice covering the walls. It had changed from a white fading into pale blue to a white fading into purple.