Seduced by Darkness (Dark Court Rising) Read online

  She’s probably another little clone of her mother. Blonde. Cruel.

  Unimportant.

  Or… is she?

  I prowl around the table, unable to sit. “Right now, Adaia has a hostage. We could even the playing field.”

  Lysander leans forward, the front legs of his chair hitting the ground. “You want to kidnap a princess of Asturia?”

  “Without bloodshed?” Even Eris’s eyebrows arch. “Here?”

  “Mmm.” It’s dangerous. Reckless. It could cost me everything. But it could also neutralize Adaia before she can make a single demand of me. “I want eyes on her daughters. Don’t be seen. Don’t harm them. I just want to know where they are and who they talk to.”

  “They could be innocent,” Thalia retorts.

  “Adaia’s daughter?” Maybe I believed in innocence once upon a time, but years of strife and bloodshed have burned such notions from my heart. There’s no innocence left in this world.

  And certainly not within the heart of the Asturian court.

  “I’ll take the eldest,” Lysander says.

  Baylor scowls. “Fine. I’ll track down the youngest daughter.”

  “It’s one thing for Adaia to take Finn hostage in the ruins of Mistmere,” Thalia points out as if we’ve all lost our minds. “Quite another to kidnap a royal princess right in the heart of the queensmoot.”

  “I think it’s perfect,” Lysander replies. “Everyone will be wearing masks. They’ll all be mingling and drinking. Nobody is even going to know if we take her.”

  Thalia leans forward. “She arrived with Adaia. Even Prince Kyrian is going to arch a brow in surprise if she suddenly appears in our encampment, and he’s our ally.”

  “Then someone ‘seduces’ her,” Lysander suggests. “Maybe she’s enjoying our hospitality? The only one who needs to know the truth is Adaia.”

  “Are you volunteering?” Thalia asks.

  “As handsome as I am,” he retorts, “everyone knows my preferences lie elsewhere. Someone… else….” He scans the room, his gaze drifting between me and Baylor.

  Baylor gruffly folds his arms over his chest and glares at his brother. “Have you been drinking already?”

  “That’s a no. Nobody would believe it.” Lysander steadies his focus upon me.

  “I don’t do seduction.” Somehow the words come out a little roughly. “Particularly not with the enemy’s daughter.” I snap my fingers at Thalia. “Eyes on her only. For now. But she might be a bargaining chip we can use. What else do we have?”

  “Well, there’s the matter of the Ravenal alliance.”

  The words near take my feet out from under me. This was a private matter discussed between the two of us—and I certainly never gave her permission to reveal it to the others.

  “Ravenal alliance?” Eris asks.

  “The queen of Ravenal has a granddaughter,” Thalia explains to the others. “Her name is Lucere and—”

  “And this was supposed to be a consideration only,” I snap. “What in the name of Maia have you done?”

  “Princess Lucere is of marriageable age,” Thalia continues to the others, as if I haven’t spoken. “She is also interested in meeting our prince at the queensmoot.” She gives me a stern look. “You said you would consider the alliance. Lucere only wants to meet you to see if you would suit.”

  “Marriage is the last thing on my mind right now,” I growl out. “Finn must be our first priority—”

  “Finn is our first priority,” Thalia snaps. “But if he’s the only hand of cards we’re playing right now, then Adaia will have us backed into a corner quicker than you can say, ‘Yes, Adaia. No, Adaia. How high would you like me to jump, Adaia?’ Let’s open negotiations with Adaia and see what she wants in exchange for him, which means we must relay this through the Seelie Alliance. Everything we do to get him back must be played out in the open, or she’ll kill him and have perfect justification to do so.”

  Her voice softens. “Prince Kyrian is our only ally. The other queens think you’re an upstart prince who stole his throne. You need allies. More allies. You need someone to back you when Adaia comes for your throat. You need someone who might vote your way if Adaia pushes the issue. With Queen Maren of Aska in bed with Adaia, that only leaves Lucidia of Ravenal. The old bitch is cunning. She knows she’s no powerhouse, but she also knows we need her. With Evernight to the north of Asturia and Ravenal to the south, Adaia will barely dare to breathe. It’s our only hope. Meet with Lucere. Marriage to her could be the means with which we get Finn back without bloodshed.”

  “I know, but….”

  She’s out there. The woman I’m meant to marry.

  Maia wouldn’t have granted me a glimpse of her face all those years ago, if she meant me to be bound to another.

  Something softens in Thalia’s eyes. She alone knows the truth of what I saw. “It’s been five hundred years since you were granted that vision, Thi. If she was out there—”

  “If she’s out there,” I grind out, “then I can’t bind myself to another. I can’t.” Not even for my country.

  Not even for Finn?

  My breath catches. I know the answer to that. He’s my brother-at-arms. My ally. My friend. Five hundred years ago he saved my life on the battlefield and I can never repay that.

  “I will… meet with Lucere.” Even saying those words feels like dying a little on the inside.

  For five hundred years I’ve been holding onto a dream, clinging to it at times with the desperate need of a man hanging from the edge of a cliff by his fingertips.

  I can’t give up.

  The woman I saw has to be out there somewhere.

  But if this is the cost of Finn’s freedom….

  He saved my life.

  Can I do any less?

  2

  Iskvien

  The first day of the queensmoot dawns bright and golden as my mother’s servants set up the tents. Asturian colors flutter in the breeze as a warning as to whose quadrant this is.

  Beyond them rise a sea of tents, clinging to a gently sloping hillside that envelops a circular valley. The tents of the Seelie Alliance stretch almost halfway around the valley. The sight makes my breath catch.

  There are hundreds of fae here.

  Thousands.

  And tonight they will sing and dance and seek to drive away the restless spirits that haunt Arcaedia on nights like these. I’ve seen paintings of the queensmoot and heard all the tales, but this is the first time I’ve ever attended.

  Asturia is granted the land right on the flank, and everywhere you look there’s a sea of red and gold. My mother’s rose, thorn and crown standard rises above her tent. She’s somewhere within, no doubt plotting ruin for some poor soul.

  I don’t want to know.

  I never want to know what she’s up to.

  That doesn’t mean I always get my wish.

  Beside us stands the Askan encampment with its golden serpent leering from a dark green background.

  And then the burgundy of Ravenal, with a black crow picked out in stark relief upon their flag.

  The blue and silver of Stormlight is next, and right at the end, as far away from the Asturian camp as one can possibly get, squats the sinister black and silver of Evernight.

  I can see the moon in eclipse on their banners. It looks like some malevolent wolf swallowing down the sun. Seven stars twinkle in the black velvet; one for every tear that Roswyn, a long-dead queen of Evernight, shed when a curse settled over her kingdom, drawing endless night down over the north of her country.

  A shiver runs through me as I tear my gaze away.

  Best not to look to Evernight, even though I can’t help being insatiably curious.

  Their murderous prince is wicked, cruel and unrelentingly handsome, according to my sources.

  He’s also my enemy, inherited from my mother.

  I desperately want to explore the ruins that run rife through the surrounding forests, but the risk is too great wit
h Evernight here. Mother told me not to go too far, but everyone is busy setting the tents, and I was shooed out of the way when I tried to assist.

  A footstep behind me is the first warning I’m not as alone as I think I am.

  Hands clap over my eyes, and a hard body steps into mine from behind. “Surprise, Princess.”

  Panic beat its wings in my chest the second I feel those hands, but at the sound of his familiar voice every inch of me goes still.

  Etan.

  It’s been two years since I saw him last. And yet I’d know that voice no matter where I am. My body can’t help reacting—all those practiced touches he bestowed upon me tamed it like a beast to the halter—but it’s my heart that drives a wretched mallet through the shock, and forces me into action.

  “I love you, Vi.”

  Yeah, almost as much as you love power.

  “I want you to be mine. Forever.”

  Pretty little lies. Blessed Maia, I don’t know how I believed it for even a second.

  He’d been too good to be true. He was still too good to be true.

  And if I hadn’t overheard him that day, fucking a sprite I’d later discovered was his mistress and laughing about the foolish little princess he had wrapped around his finger, then I’d probably still be following him around Queen Maren’s court like some lovesick fool.

  “Etan.” I duck out of his clutches, spinning around. “What are you doing here?”

  Each queen in the Seelie alliance—or prince, for there are two of them—is granted a certain coterie to attend them. Fifty guards. A hundred of their inner court. Thirty servants. Ten family members at most.

  No more. No less.

  There are appearances to be kept and wars to be avoided, and it results in five very carefully kept apart camps spread around the ruins of Hammerdale.

  Hammerdale is neutral ground and to spill blood here would result in the entire alliance coming down upon you.

  Etan might be the Queen of Aska’s distant nephew, but he’s hardly one of her favorite relatives—nor is he crucial to the alliance talks. He’s a professional courtier it seems, currying favor wherever he can find it, and Queen Maren knows it.

  I thought I’d be safe.

  “Looking for you,” says the tall, handsome fae lord grinning at me.

  Etan of the Goldenhills. It’s a name I once scrawled in the margins of countless notebooks. I hate myself for that. I knew better. I was raised as an Asturian princess. I should have seen through him.

  But I was sixteen, lonely and sentenced to a foreign court where I knew nothing and no one, and his was the first kind smile I’d seen.

  I spent a year serving Queen Maren as her lady-in-waiting; a little negotiation between my mother and the sister-queen she kindly calls the Queen of Nightmares. Long ago, Maren was named my godmother, and though she’s never been the kind to bestow kisses and advice, there was always a birthing day gift. Always a present at winter solstice. To have her as a godmother was an honor.

  It was never a kindness.

  But the second I saw Etan he took my breath away, and my thoughts along with it. He swept me into a world where I was finally welcomed by the young swains who ruled Maren’s under court. There were balls. Music. Dancing. Stolen kisses in the hedge maze that guards the gardens.

  Even after two years apart, he still takes my breath, if I’m to be honest with myself.

  Tall, lean, built like a powerful warrior fae, his skin kissed by the sun and his hair as golden as wheat beneath a blistering sun, he looks every inch the fairy tale prince.

  Truth be told, once I realized he was playing me, I found the charms and potions on his vanity that help veil him.

  Belladonna to darken his eyes, crushed pearl to brighten the inside of his lids, and powdered gold swept through his hair—it all plays its part and it’s common to see the likes of such powders among the Seelie courts. But it was the little vials with trapped Will-o’-the-wisps that made my breath catch.

  The tiny demi-fey are spirits of light. Some of the poorer villages in Seelie use them for lighting—trapping them within lanterns, or bartering with them to exchange milk and honey for several hours of their assistance.

  But it’s said that in Unseelie, the creatures there have discovered a darker use for them.

  Their magics are small but if you can consume that magic, then the effect of it will brighten your skin and hair for a week. It’s a tiny surge to your powers, but they say it’s addictive and such magic has long been outlawed in Seelie.

  I can see it in Etan now.

  The natural warmth of his smile, the glow of his skin—it’s all a lie—and it’s used as bait in order to lure someone like me into his trap.

  Hunger shadows his eyes as he stalks toward me. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before—or maybe I didn’t want to. I wanted to believe the sweet lies he whispered in my ears. I wanted to let every gentle kiss he bestowed upon me steal me away from the wretchedness of my life. I wanted the white knight, the handsome prince, and when Etan appeared, blinding in his gloriousness, I let myself overlook the shadows etching his soul. He was a dream I refused to examine too deeply, and maybe I own some share of the blame in what became of us.

  Because I wanted that lie so desperately that I let myself overlook the warning signs.

  “You left my aunt’s court so precipitously,” Etan says. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “I’m surprised you noticed.” I can’t stop the hint of acid from flavoring the words. “You seemed to be cock-deep in a sprite the last I saw of you.”

  “Ah. You saw that.” He doesn’t look entirely surprised. “Can you blame me? You’d been playing games with me for months. A male has certain needs, Iskvien, and you were playing coy.”

  “I was doing nothing of the sort!”

  He scoffs. “What else am I to call it? You would barely kiss me, let alone slip into my bed—”

  And to think I was going to gift this bastard my virginity. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you—instincts that have served me well, in hindsight. I thought you were….”

  “What?” Another step closer.

  “Wooing me,” I snap. “I thought you were falling in love with me.”

  Etan laughs. “Oh, Iskvien. What is love compared to the game?” His gaze sharpens, becomes a little cruel. “Your innocence was amusing then, but there’s only so long before a man grows bored.” He runs his tongue over his teeth. “I think I like this better. Now you know. Now you’re no longer looking at me as if I ought to cast my handkerchief at your feet and beg your favor.”

  “No, I’m looking at you as if you’re an utter pig who isn’t fit to kiss the hem of my skirts.”

  “Careful now, Princess.” Maybe it’s not Belladonna widening his pupils. Maybe it’s something worse, because the merest hint of my defiance unleashes a feral kind of hunger in his expression. “This spitfire attitude makes the chase interesting again but you will respect me.”

  I don’t know what it is about him that makes me uncomfortable in that moment, but I take a half step back when he advances upon me.

  I know how to use the dagger sheathed at my hip, and I’m safely within Asturia’s camp, but the makeshift streets are suspiciously empty for this time of day. Canvas flaps in the breeze, but I can’t even sight so much as a hob.

  I’m alone.

  “I hate you,” I say firmly. “I’m not interested in being chased. I don’t ever want to see you again. Remove yourself from these tents. You’re trespassing.”

  He reaches out and tries to brush his finger down my cheek, an ugly smile dawning when I jerk back. “Then it is truly a shame that my aunt and your mother have reached an agreement.”

  For a second, I’m not sure if I’ve heard him correctly. “What?”

  “There’s to be a marriage to cement the alliance between our countries.” He captures my chin, pinching a little. “You’re mine, you frigid little bitch. I will have you on your knees. I will have you on
your back. I will have you locked in a fucking cell if I so choose. Maybe I’ll even fuck you in front of my court—”

  “Never!”

  I strike his hand away, but the ache of his touch lingers in my skin.

  “Go,” he mocks. “Run to your mother. Ask her if it’s true. My queen is signing the contracts today and once they’re signed you belong to me, Iskvien. Now and forever.” His gaze runs down my body. “Maybe you should wait for me tonight. I’ll find your tent and you can beg for my forgiveness.”

  Heart pounding in my ears, I whip my dagger free and point it at him. “If you even take a single step within my tent, I’ll cut your heart out of your chest and give it to your queen in a box.”

  His eyes light up and he laughs. “I’m glad we’ve had this little chat. This is much more interesting than having you simper at me like some little lovesick swain.”

  I can’t breathe.

  My mother wouldn’t do this to me.

  She wouldn’t.

  But I can’t help thinking of her close ties with Maren of Aska. Mother’s been murmuring about an alliance with the Queen of Nightmares for months.

  War is on the horizon. She’s already sent her troops marching north to hold the borders against the encroach of Evernight. Their murderous prince has been making aggressions, and the lands of Mistmere have long been in dispute between them.

  I stare at Etan as he blows me a kiss and backs away.

  “Until tonight,” he says. “Save me a dance at the rites. No. Save them all for me. Once we are married you will never touch another fae again.”

  Mother won’t care if I go bursting in there demanding the truth. I’m her daughter, and she’s been hinting that my virginity is worthless to the kingdom if I never plan to gift it.

  This is exactly something she would do to me.

  I know it as surely as I know that marrying Etan will be a worse nightmare than my current life at court.

  My mother has sold me.

  To a monster.

  “Over my dead body,” I whisper, but there’s no one here to hear it.