A Dream of Fate & Flesh (Courts of Malice #2)

35. Bloom in the Shade

thirty-five

Bloom in the Shade

Rainer

I can’t escape the throbbing sensation in my head, as if a drum is beating inside my skull. The lingering pain serves as a reminder of last night’s mishap—of how close I was to losing control. It’s a miracle I’m not only alive , but that the bloodlust has simmered down enough for my coherency to return.

Gently touching my face, I grimace at the sensitivity on my forehead. But it’s not as bad as I expected. Instead of being battered like tenderized meat, I only have a few bruises and cuts. Feeding on Alessia in my dreams seemed to have worked, accelerating my healing process.

But that’s impossible.

Dreaming about feeding shouldn’t give me the benefits in real life. Should it? It makes me realize I know more about dreamwalking in myth than I do in reality. I certainly hadn’t known this would work.

As the day passes, the girl—Sheila—avoids me, rocking in a ball by the iron doors, begging for someone to let her out.

I don’t blame her.

She should be terrified.

I’m terrified.

My stomach screams with hunger, wringing itself out like a towel. My mouth feels like chalk, and I must be hallucinating because I swear I can still taste Alessia on my tongue. Her sweet, rich scent lingers in my nose.

The most significant reprieve is that I feel more in control today. If I must, I’ll knock myself out again. A migraine is a much smaller price to pay than the alternative.

When the meal cart passes for the final time of the day, Sheila finally faces me. Her eyes grow as she gasps, throwing her hands up to her mouth.

“Your—your mouth.”

Frowning, I raise a hand to my face. A dried layer of blood flakes away from my lips.

I swear my heart twitches. Using my sleeve, I wipe the crust off my mouth. Confused, I sniff it. My tongue darts out to taste it.

Why, it is blood.

Alessia’s blood.

But…

My entire body tingles with the realization.

A dry laugh bursts out of me.

“Sheila,” I mutter as my mind spins with ideas. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are you now?” An ancient voice croons from the hallway. The clack of heeled shoes on stone reaches my ears, and the queen rounds into sight.

She can’t possibly know what happened. No one can… as long as Alessia didn’t share our secret.

“She is almost here,” Queen Yvanthia says. “Your little rose .”

My heart beats furiously as I jump to my feet. I slam my open palm against the bars in front of the queen’s face. Sheila yelps, scrambling away from the door. The queen smiles, her lips tilting like a sharp, curved blade.

“If you touch her—”

“What? You shall scare me to death?” She laughs. Her thin, bony throat warbles and I imagine myself shooting forward, ripping her voice box out with my teeth. It sends a pulsing wave of anger through me. “We are playing chess, dear faeling, and I am here to call checkmate.”

“You stay away from her,” I hiss.

“She is the one seeking me.” She narrows her eyes. “Or rather, seeking you .”

There’s a quick change to the pressure, and my vision dims before brightening, and suddenly, I’m in a different room. Wincing, I blink a few times to let my sight adjust. It’s a grand hall of some sort. The light streaming in from the skylights is blinding. My limbs are heavy, and my hands are weighed down, clamped to chains.

I loathe Yvanthia’s magic. Losing track of time and space is disorienting at best but has horrible implications at its worst.

A rattling cough steals my attention. My head whips toward Yvanthia. She pulls out a small rag and dabs the blood leaking from her nose.

“Your rose will fix it all very soon,” she whispers ominously.

Jerking, I try to lunge for her, but my hands and feet only rattle.

One of the guards next to me whacks me in the back of the knee with his staff. I cry out, almost buckling beneath the pain.

“That is quite all right, Maven,” Yvanthia says. “I can handle the—” She coughs, wheezing as she catches her breath. “The prince .”

The guard steps toward her. “My Queen? ”

She stands tall, narrowing her eyes at him and holding a hand.

“I am fine !” she bellows, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.

Unlike her wimpish guard, I refuse to cower before her. Instead, I study the interactions carefully, desperate to store as much of it away as possible. The more I see of Yvanthia, her magic, and her castle, the better I have at getting out of here.

“Why am I here?” I ask.

She reaches for my chin, squeezing it between her spindly fingers. “I need something from your rose. Something I can not just take . I figure I will need a token of appreciation.”

“You’re bargaining with my life?” My shoulders stiffen. I’m missing something here. None of this makes any sense.

The queen flicks her wrist. There’s a soft pop in the air, and the guards around us fall silent and still, frozen in time.

She clutches her chest, taking a deep breath. “I made a mistake banning demons from Avylon all those years ago.”

“I don’t suppose that means you’ll spare me,” I say sarcastically, glaring at her.

“That shall depend on Alessia.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” I growl.

“The land is dying,” she says flatly. “ I am dying.”

I ponder what that means, not understanding.

“How will a human help you?” I mutter, hoping she doesn’t know the truth.

She scrunches her nose, glaring at me. “Feigning ignorance is not becoming. We both know what she is. Or perhaps you do not?”

I clench my teeth together, my jaw aching with the pressure. “She’s not a healer. Call on Eoin.”

“The situation is dire—it is much more complicated than a mere healer’s capabilities.”

“Alessia can’t help you.” I yank the chains, and they clamor, biting into my skin.

Yvanthia paces, clasping her hands behind her back.

“When I banned demons, I unknowingly disrupted the realm’s stability. I have been thinning my reserves in an attempt to stitch the realm together. My magic can only do so much, and I fear I am running out—of both magic and time.”

Her admission is enough to keep me frozen silent. She must be desperate if she’s willingly revealing her weaknesses. Either that or she indeed plans to kill me.

“There is great instability deep within the land,” she says. “Surely you have noticed the spirits are at unrest—that is just the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“The bog’s decay is just the start. It will spread. It will consume the other courts.”

My brow furrows, and I scrutinize her. The strange prisoner’s words ring out in my mind—warnings. “The other courts will fall?”

“Think of it as a wound in our realm, our magic bleeding out. Avylon needs all seven courts’ bloodlines to keep the magic cycle flowing efficiently. Each bloodline is tied to a particular magic, allowing them to act as vessels, recycling the magic and establishing harmony. When one court falls, we all fall. The Lírshadows were just the beginning.”

Lírshadow .

Of Spiritus Court, the Court of Souls.

From what I remember, their bloodline comes into their powers by accepting their darker natures, usually through ritual sacrifice.

My heart drops to my bowels as it comes together. “You believe Alessia is a Lírshadow.”

The old queen laughs, her chest shaking vigorously as her ribcage rattles. “She might be part human, but she is still a spiritcaller.” Her eyes twinkle as she takes in my disbelief with glee. “Oh, did you not know what your rose truly is?” She tuts. “I figured that is why you two are so fond of, so loyal to, one another.”

A slight relief moves through me. Yvanthia doesn’t know about the dreamwalking. She doesn’t know all of Alessia’s secrets.

But a spiritcaller?

I feel a pang of stupidity and regret that I didn’t see it sooner. It certainly explains the shadow-spirit that’s been following her.

Yvanthia breaks into a bone-rattling cough that shakes her body like an earthquake. “I need the Lírshadow to reinstate Spiritus Court so I may heal. So, Avylon may flourish. My magic is not meant to mend a realm’s wound.”

My lungs squeeze, the shock of it all causing me to stop breathing momentarily.

“You also need me—an Iorworth—to rule Umbra Court.” Yvanthia can’t kill me, not if what she’s saying is true.

Again, the queen chuckles. “You have distant relatives with Iorworth blood who could also serve Umbra Court.”

“You are not taking my court,” I say through gritted teeth.

She lifts a shoulder, shrugging it subtly. “Then I suppose we both better hope the little Lírshadow heeds my request.”

Despite the fuzziness of my future, I exhale in relief, knowing Yvanthia needs Alessia alive. It’s the only thing keeping me from losing my mind—a small comfort, but a comfort, nonetheless.

“Why did you banish the demons in the first place?” I ask.

For the first time, I see something akin to sorrow flicker across Yvanthia’s face. “That, my faeling, is a story for another time.” She coughs, and the bodies in the room jolt to life, reanimating for a moment before her power grasps them again. “It is time to make peace with the demons we once exiled.”

The pressure in the room dissipates as chatter reinstates, her magical hold lifting entirely. As the guards resume their duties, milling about, I chew over the revelations.

Alessia Lírshadow is not only a demonblooded fae but also a descendent of the Spiritus Court. She is the key to fixing Shyga—turning it into the court it once was—and allowing the spirits to crossover.

She is the key to my escape, allowing me to resume my duties in my court.

Everything seems perfect… too perfect.

And that’s when it hits me.

To step into her power, Alessia must embrace a darkness she will never return from—just as all the Lírshadows have before her. The price is too steep. Alessia would never pay it—she wouldn’t slaughter another to gain power .

She can't. It would destroy her softness.

But… deep down, I know she will if it means saving me. Just as I would give up my court—and my life for her—I know she would do the same for me.

And that is precisely why Yvanthia is holding me captive .

The queen plans to use me to blackmail Alessia into sacrificing her morality.

One question lingers: does embracing the darkness entail forsaking the beauty of light?

After all, roses don’t bloom in the shade.