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

36. What’s the Catch?

thirty-six

What’s the Catch?

Alessia

E zamae and I wait for what feels like hours in a sparsely decorated study with stiff chairs and a ridiculous portrait of Queen Yvanthia overlooking us.

Neither of us speaks. I tried to ask Ezamae a question when we were first dumped here, but he only shook his head and made a shushing motion with his finger. A few guards stand by the door, pretending we don’t exist.

Eventually, another guard comes to get us. He escorts us through the tallest hallways I’ve ever seen. Balconies from the other floors overlook us, and the doors we pass seem built for giants. Everything here makes me feel small, insignificant.

Like the city, the castle is bustling with bodies moving to and fro. A few curious eyes watch us, and I focus on the back of Ezamae’s head to keep from panicking under the scrutiny of strangers.

We’re led to a great hall, where half a dozen guards surround us, leading us down a black runner toward a dais at the end of the room.

The queen’s wrinkled face comes into view. She sits atop her throne, looking older than I remember, despite it being such a short time since I last saw her. Her hair is mottled with white and grey, and her frame is bony and thin .

“Queen Yvanthia.” Ezamae breaks into a low, dramatic bow with a flourish.

I make no such move, not wanting to let my guard down. I keep my eyes locked on the queen’s shrewd eyes, hoping to see some glimmer of compassion or humanity. But she’s not human.

And neither am I.

“Ezamae Nial Mellían.” The queen steps forward, inclining her head. “The Prince of Secrets and Seduction.” She grins. “Tell me, how is Prince Hamraaz enjoying running Aer Court?”

My forehead scrunches as I look from the back of Ezamae’s head to the queen. I thought Ez ran the court.

“He is doing quite well,” Ez says in a strained voice.

The queen laughs. “ You are doing quite well. Windwhispering suits you more than holding court ever did. You have a talent.”

The queen tilts her head to the side as if gesturing for someone. A second later, a guard steps forward, handing Ez a sack of clinking coins.

He hesitantly accepts it, then slowly turns toward me. The moment his hollow eyes meet mine, I realize the truth.

“You sold me out,” I whisper. “You betrayed me.”

The queen laughs again, and it’s as grating as a wire brush on slate flooring.

“I recommended you seduce the girl, not make her fall in love with you.”

Ez’s nostrils flare, and his eyes widen a fraction, but he doesn’t break our stare. With each second that ticks by, the burning anger grows hotter and hotter beneath my skin.

Squaring my shoulders, I say, “I am not —”

“My talents for seduction are more powerful than I accounted for,” Ez says drily. “Have no fear, she still feels for the fallen prince. We also visited the Cave of Reflection.”

Was he paid to befriend me, trick me, and deliver me to the queen?

The world seems to tilt on its axis, as a hollow sensation settles in my chest. I swallow the disappointment lodged in my throat, and force my chin up. I stand tall and confident—like Sennah taught me—refusing to face Ezamae, even though I can feel his gaze piercing into me.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I truly thought he was different.

“Dismiss yourself, Mellían.” The queen flicks her hand. “Return to Aer Court. Assist your brother with his transition. I will call your voice on the wind when I require your assistance next.”

The threads of the puzzle slowly begin unraveling as Ez turns to leave. He pauses as if waiting to catch my eye, but I don’t spare him a glance. My ears ring and my mouth goes dry. The ache of his betrayal struck hard and fast, settling like iron in my stomach.

Slowly, he strides past me. It isn’t until he’s well past that I turn to watch him leave, wanting to let this moment sink in.

Except, my eyes never make it to Ezamae. Instead, they’re drawn to an icy blue gaze that lingers at the edge of the room.

All the air leaves my lungs, and my legs wobble.

“Rainer,” I whisper.

He looks nothing like he did in my dreams.

His hair falls in messy, greasy waves around his face. A layer of scruff covers his sharp jaw, framing those lips I love so much. Bruises and cuts line his forehead as if he lost a fight.

Shackles bind his hands, linking to the metal around his ankles .

But it’s the hardness in his eyes that sends alarms through me. He stares me down, and the muscles in his jaw tighten. Then, as if he can no longer bear the sight of me, he turns his face away.

It’s at that moment my heart bursts like a frozen pipe, flooding my body with panic.

I rush toward him, desperate to touch him, to hug him. I need to feel his skin and remind myself that he’s okay. Need to look him in the eye and tell him it’s not true.

He’ll believe me.

He knows my heart.

“Rainer!” I call. None of the guards move to stop me, and I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around him.

I sob into his shoulder.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. We have an audience, but I don’t care. I mumble apologies into his skin, begging him to forgive me.

“The dramatics with you,” the queen’s cold voice cuts through the room.

Sniffling, I pull back.

Rainer stares ahead, still and unblinking. I shake him, trying to rouse him from his stupor.

“Rainer?” I lift his hand and release. It falls heavily to his side.

If it weren’t for the warmth and familiarity of his soft skin, I would think he’s a doll—not alive at all.

Frantically, I spin toward the queen. “What did you do to him?”

She smiles smugly, a pretentious look on her face, making me want to claw her eyes out. “I wanted to talk in private, dear girl. ”

Glancing around the room, I realize that her dozen or so guards are also frozen in place. It’s the same magic she used at Terra Court.

I was so distracted by my feelings that I failed to notice the telltale tingle of magic.

“Let us talk.” She coughs as she leads me away.

Queen Yvanthia stares over the delicate tea cup and lifts it to her pursed lips.

My heart flutters in my chest. She doesn’t want me dead, right? If she wanted me dead, she would’ve killed me. She wouldn’t have paid Ezamae to bring me here.

Bile climbs my throat, threatening to spill out at his betrayal.

“It seems we are at an impasse,” the queen says.

My foot taps relentlessly under the table. I’m desperate to bolt back to the room where Rainer is frozen. Being this close yet far away feels like mice gnawing on my insides.

The parlor is more intimate than the great hall, but no less imposing with its looming ceilings and heavy, oppressive drapes. Uninviting furniture and stern ancestral portraits stifle the atmosphere.

It’s just the two of us, her guards stationed beyond the door.

If I had my dagger, I would slit her throat.

But could I?

Am I capable of killing if it means sparing the life of someone I love?

The thought sickens me, flooding my mouth with a bitter taste.

Perhaps there is another way I can triumph over her… there must be.

How would a faerie handle this?

“Let’s make a deal,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Let Rainer go. Let him return to his court and leave him in peace, and I’ll return to Dovenak of my own accord.”

The queen goes still, the teacup halfway back to the table. She moves in a burst of laughter, planting the cup down on its saucer with a clink. “Oh, how I admire the gall. I was worried that you were not who I thought you were for a moment. You hide it well, Lírshadow.”

I feel my forehead wrinkle as I stare at her. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

She leans forward, gracefully placing her elbows on the table and interlacing her fingers under her chin. “I cannot determine whether you are truly ignorant or oblivious.”

“Neither.” My face heats, but I incline my chin.

Both?

I didn’t realize Ezamae was tricking me after all. I trusted him again.

However, if a powerful sorceress wants me dead, and the faerie queen of all folk paid to have me escorted here, I have something they want.

Why would Ezamae tell Yvanthia he brought me to the Cave?

Unless it mattered to her… but why would my personal awakening matter to her. It's not like I received any magic—

“My power,” I blurt. “You want my power.”

She raises her brows as her lips tilt up. “Ah, perhaps you are not as obtuse as you appear.” She leans in. “We must establish a few things before we speak freely.” A trickle of blood slides out of her nose. She dabs at it stiffly with a linen cloth, taking her sweet time. The tension in the room builds like a bubble ready to burst.

“Yes?” I ask impatiently.

She dabs the blood away, then folds the linen on her lap. She sucks in a rattling breath, then smiles like a hawk. “Put plainly, it is no secret I am growing old. Weak.”

My gaze flits to one of the frozen guards by the door. I’d hate to see her at full strength if this is what she calls weak.

“If I help you, you’ll let Rainer go,” I demand.

She stifles another cough. “Mellían took you to the Cave to acquire your power, yes? You are of no use to me without it.”

Flaming fear licks at my spine. Now is a bad time to tell her I did not receive magic or power.

Shite .

“So, about that—”

She waves me off. “Yes, I know. You must return to your land to tap into the full spectrum of power. You Lírshadows and your dark magic." She huffs.

I keep my face blank as I stare at her.

She sighs, tipping her head to the side. “Good grief. It is preposterous that the good health of the realm relies on you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. That sounds ominous and not the kind of task I’m up for, if I’m being honest. It also sounds suspiciously like the route Char wanted me to follow—mending the realms or something?

I’m not prepared for this. “This is all… very new to me.”

“Perhaps I compensated the Mellían princeling prematurely,” she mutters, eyes narrowed. She turns toward the doorway and frowns before turning back to me. “We must hasten this conversation.”

I nod.

“The gravest mistake I made in this life was expelling the demons from the realm." Her features pinch together as she says it. "You see, below the surface of every court lies a reservoir of magic, accessible only by its respective bloodlines. The Royal Fae serve as more than rulers. They possess the ability to master and employ the magic of their court. This maintains the land's stability while establishing an equilibrium between nature and power. Without a bloodline to recycle the magic, Spiritus Court fell out of balance, meeting its demise. This causes great instability across the realm."

I gape at her, coming back to the cause of it all. "Why did you ban them to begin with?"

Her eyes turn sharp as they narrow on me. “The Lírshadows wield dark magic to bridge our realm and the shadow realm, the spirit world. The demon banishment was to cast your ancestors out, banish your magic.” She chuckles, and it turns into another cough. “Imagine the irony that I am now killing myself to keep your land, your magic, together, and that I need a Lírshadows assistance to survive.”

Ezamae's words come back to me about how fae and demons aren't much different than one another. It was Yvanthia who deemed their magic dark in the first place. This whole mess is because of her.

But as I mull over her words, one thing overshadows the rest. My head grows hollow. “I’m a descendant from the Spiritus Court?”

“As it stands, you are the only descendant in the realm.” Her sharp eyes prickle my skin. “The instability of one court leads to the instability of all courts. I have been using the last dredges of my magic to stave off impending collapse—buying time, though the price is quite steep.”

She coughs into her linen, and the fit lasts for what feels like minutes this time. Her mouth is smeared with red when she pulls the cloth away.

“May I?” She gestures for the unused linen sitting beside my still-full teacup. There’s no way I’m drinking or eating anything else from anyone around here after what Seraphina did.

I pass it to her. She nods, dabbing at her mouth to clean the mess.

I grip the edge of the table, desperate for her to continue.

“I had given up hope, accepted my fate. Karma, I believed, for being young, jealous, and petty enough to banish an entire line of magic from the realm where they belonged.” She leans forward and lowers her voice, “Imagine my surprise and good fortune when an ancestor of the Lírshadows arrived in my realm. Hope. For the first time in many centuries, I feel hope.”

“I was raised human. I don’t know anything about Avylon or magic.”

She waves her hand at me as if it doesn’t matter. “I need you to assume your role as heiress to the Spiritus Court. You must return to the court grounds, accept your ancestral magic, and relieve me of the burden of stifling time. It is only then I can heal and lengthen my life. ”

Is that how the queen has ruled for so long? Her power?

“If I don’t resume… my court …” I cringe, the words feeling foreign and odd. “Then you die?”

She tilts her chin down, leaning in to eye me carefully. “So does Iorworth. So does the entire realm. Make no mistake, I am the only thing holding this realm together. If you do not claim your throne, you doom us all, child.”

Her rancid breath blasts my face, and I squirm in my chair, unsettled.

By her logic, she also needs Rainer to run his court, which means she can’t kill him. Right?

Not that it matters if I don’t return to… mine ?

“I am not happy about this necessary arrangement either. You are far from a leader, but I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the good fortune of your return.”

“What about Rainer?” I squeak out.

“I shall free Iorworth.” Her nails clack on the table as she taps her fingers. An unsettling smile stretches across her face. “However, there is a bond in place linking our mortalities. Consider it motivation for you to make the correct choice.”

Her smile stretches wider; my gut squirms like snakes.

“What does that mean?” I ask weakly.

“If you fail and I perish, or if you try to terminate my life, your beloved Umbra Prince will also meet his demise.”

I gasp, my hands flying up to my mouth. Her words hit like a physical blow, causing my heart to drop, as if I’m plummeting off a cliff. The weight of the news crushes me, blurring my vision.

No . Rainer can not die .

“Each court needs a leader, and it is time the faeries make peace with their demon brethren,” the queen says, unbothered by my unraveling. “You, Alessia Lírshadow, symbolize hope and union for Avylon. It is beyond time we remove the damnation derived from ancestral sins. The realm will see my kindness and courtesy of allowing the Lírshadows to return.”

Kindness?

The hypocrisy is enough to cause my hands to vibrate with anger. “Then why did you tell the Orions to return me to Dovenak?”

“You needed the proper motivations to go with Mellían.” She purses her lips and arches a brow. "I knew the command would flush you out of Terra Court."

My brow furrows. “You used Rainer and the threat of sending me to Dovenak to spur me into action? You purposely misled me, enticed me to come to you?”

My head spins in disbelief at the sheer insanity of it all.

The queen sighs with a hint of annoyance. “I have made my reasons known to you; there is no need to harp on it.”

“But… Eoin?” The depths of the manipulation hits me, and my voice cracks, betraying my vulnerability. “Did he know?”

“The Terra Prince is unworthy. I would never rely on that fool.”

My heart squeezes, and I rub my chest to soothe the ache. Despite his faults, Eoin didn’t deserve to burden responsibility and blame for all that happened. He didn’t deserve to lose his life over it.

“He died,” I whisper. My fingers turn white as I squeeze the table. “All things considered, you got him killed.”

“Splendid luck that his sister rules Terra Court then, ah?” She smirks, and I clench the table harder, keeping myself from launching across it. “If you think I need this specific Iorworth,” the queen continues as she trembles to a stand, “you are mistaken. He has relatives with enough blood to tame Umbra land.”

My fingers itch to reach for the teacup. To shatter it against the table and use a rogue shard to slice the queen’s throat.

But I can’t. If she dies, so does Rainer.

“What do you say?” She stares at me like a hawk. “Do we have a deal?”

My mind spins, replaying all the details of our conversation, desperate to search for anything I’m missing. Deals with faeries have never ended well for me. This time, however, I have no choice.

I nod, choking down the defeat.

“Dismissed, Lírshadow. Reunite with Iorworth as a show of good faith. Procure your magic and retrieve ownership of your land. We have a rather limited amount of time.”

I hear the threat she’s not vocalizing: save her life or forfeit his .

All things considered, the deal is too easy. In this place, appearances deceive and everything comes with a price, leaving one to wonder: what’s the catch?