For a long moment, no word was spoken. He stayed on his knees, and his eyes didn’t waver. He’d wanted this, her approval, for years. He’d wanted to belong, to matter. The things he’d expected and prepared for had changed, but Zephyr was still filled with the longing he’d always felt.
“I would give you a boon,” Endellion offered. “A token from the head of your family to show my pleasure in your service.”
Zephyr shook his head slightly. “Serving you is enough.”
She laughed, not mockingly but in what seemed to be honest amusement. “There will be tasks aplenty, and those who will test you for who you now are. My husband’s sons often attempt to kill Rhys.” Endellion gifted Rhys with a look of undeniable pride. “He is second only to me in his swordsmanship. He will train you.”
“As you wish,” Rhys murmured.
“I don’t often bestow blessings, Zephyr. Speak,” the queen asked.
“Alkamy,” he blurted.
“Oh?” The queen tilted her head and studied him, and Zephyr knew that he’d said the wrong thing. After all of his efforts to keep Alkamy safe, he’d just put her too much in the queen’s attention by asking for her.
“Her safety,” he added quickly, trying to lessen the weight of his revelation. “She’s my best friend and a trusted member of the team. She thinks clearly, and her ability to plan—”
“You are requesting that she is kept safer than the rest of my Sleepers,” the queen prompted, her voice completely emotionless in the way that only true fae can manage.
Zephyr swallowed before he could reply. “Yes.”
“You feel for her.”
“She’s my best friend,” he hedged.
Endellion stood. “I will grant you this boon, Grandson.” She stepped close to him, her feet almost touching his bent knees. “You may also mate with the girl for now. I have plans that will require your involvement, but . . . I will spare her from further missions if possible.”
At her words, Zephyr was both terrified and relieved. Being told one was a part of Endellion’s plans wasn’t something that anyone could hear without feeling afraid. However, Alkamy was . . . if not safe, then safer. For now, that was more than a fine trade-off.
“May I ask who fathered her?”
Endellion cupped the side of his face. “You may not.”
He wanted to bow his head again, but she held fast.
“I will treat you above those who are not my blood, but that requires that you earn my respect, Zephyr.”
“I will do my best,” he swore.
The Queen of Blood and Rage patted his cheek like he was a pet, and then she stepped past him and strode to the door.
Rhys followed in her wake again, grabbing Zephyr by the elbow and hauling him to his feet in a fluid movement. They reached the door to the room again, but as Endellion reached to open it, the door flung inward.
In a fraction of a moment, both Rhys and Endellion had drawn swords. Zephyr fumbled, having no weapon of his own.
Rhys shoved him toward the wall of weapons with a terse, “Arms.”
Zephyr was only two steps away from his father, when the queen’s voice snapped, “What were you thinking coming in here without notice? I could’ve stab—”
“I was thinking that time was crucial,” the newcomer answered.
Zephyr glanced back at them. The queen still had her sword unsheathed, as did Rhys. His, however, was pointed at the floor. The queen kept hers upraised.
The newcomer gestured at Zephyr and said, “You won’t need a sword, boy.”
Zephyr looked—not to Rhys—but to the queen.
She rewarded him with a flicker of approval in her irritated expression before saying, “Get a weapon, Zephyr. You should always be armed.”
He wanted to point out that she was why he was unarmed, but that served no purpose beyond easing his pride. Instead, he did as he was told, selecting a longsword from the wall and pulling it down. Then he went to stand on the opposite side of the queen, so he and Rhys flanked her.
Zephyr had a good suspicion as to the identity of the faery who’d entered the queen’s throne room. He was a massive man, tall and striking, with skin so dark that he was clearly Seelie. Currently, he took them all in with a bemused expression and said, “I mean Endellion no harm . . . these days. Isn’t that right, dearest?”
The Queen of Blood and Rage was glaring at him.
He ignored her and added, “She’s still not the easiest woman to be around, but she is my wife.”
“Fool,” the queen muttered. “Again, I say, what are you doing here?”
“My sons have vanished,” Leith, the once-king of the Seelie and now co-ruler of the Hidden Lands with Endellion, said.
“And you think our granddaughter is with them, I assume,” Endellion added.
Leith nodded once. “She is.”
Zephyr wanted to ask why the king didn’t go after his sons then, why he didn’t rescue Lilywhite, but questioning either of the regents seemed foolhardy at best. Getting out without bloodshed was always the goal when it came to dealing with the fae.
“My patience is at an end with them.” Endellion stepped around the king, her husband, and strode forward without another word to any of them.
Rhys followed her silently.
Zephyr paused. His queen hadn’t ordered him to go or to stay, and truth be told, he would be of little use in a conflict with fighters of her caliber.
The king sighed. “Come on then. She’s liable to kill them if I’m not there, and that son of hers isn’t much on caution either.”
“He’s . . . my father,” Zephyr said, not quite defending Rhys but feeling like he should say something.
“Of course he is,” Leith said cheerily. “My wife has particular plans for the offspring of that experiment. Why do you think all of you are together?”
Zephyr gaped at him.
“The get of those she hand-selected were all put in your team, Zephyr. She made sure that you commanded the highest born—the very best.”
Then the king sauntered off, whistling cheerily as if they weren’t headed toward violence, as if he hadn’t dropped a giant revelation on Zephyr, as if all of this was somehow mundane.
Dazedly, Zephyr followed. He wasn’t sure if the Seelie King was any less frightening than the Unseelie Queen. At least with Endellion, there was no confusion as to whether or not she was livid. Zephyr couldn’t honestly tell if the king was happy or insane.
thirty-three
LILY
Lily paced around the damp cave where they’d been imprisoned, assessing the situation as best she could. Both Torquil and Creed were injured, but she and Violet were fine. It was as if the two Seelie fae outside the cave had forgotten that the most ruthless faery in history was a woman. Lily might not aspire to the ferocity of her grandmother, but she had Endellion’s blood in her veins and Daidí’s teaching in her mind.