1
Familiar blue-white illumination flickered across Baelerithon's features, edging the slight curve of his cheekbone where his face drew up into a small, satisfied smile.
Shattered stone had been brushed back into haphazard piles around the walls of the War Room in the Unseelie Court, and the font of ley magic that had been exposed by his predecessor glowed more brightly than it had before Bael had come. It pulsed rhythmically, thrumming gently in his mind with the soft sussuration of power that rolled beneath the surface of this realm.
He turned the ancient, bronze circlet in his hands almost without seeming to realize what he was doing as he listened to the whisper of the font, enraptured by the hint of what lay deeper within. One who had not be brushed by its power may have sensed a malevolence seeping through the connection between the earth's magic and the Unseelie Court, but Baelerithon only felt the quiet security that came from being closer to any connection with the Eternal Forest. It had chosen him. His fingers traced the worn mark of the Unseelie on the crown and he felt his heart speed up as he considered what must come next. He turned his eyes upward in anticipation.
Caelus hung upside down from the ceiling, his lower legs sunk into the very stone up to his knees. Still unconscious, his arms dangled down limply above the gash in the floor where the great table had once stood proudly. Both of his dismembered hands lay on the cavern floor as a precaution; Bael had not wanted to take any chances with the other Faerie's deadly gift. No more mistakes.
He thought back on what had brought him to this place.
The Court had been virtually deserted when Baelerithon had once again found himself within the warren of darkened tunnels and winding corridors. The Unseelie had never faced such a dramatic drop in power as they had when the former King had overloaded the ley line network to destroy Alicante, and it appeared that many of the Fey had vanished until they could rebuild their strength.
Fortunately, he knew exactly where to go.
Iarlath's features had only slipped for a moment, a flicker of confusion that had come and gone too quickly to notice when Baelerithon had knocked on his door. Hidden deep within the Unseelie catacombs, the sorcerer's private chambers were well-known to the disgraced prince from his time spent plotting his ascension to the Seelie throne. Baelerithon, Malchezed, and Iarlath had spent many long hours secreted away from the rest of the Court as they had laid their plans; the brains, the brawn, and the power all working together as one.
But while Baelerithon had dreamed of a single, unified Court brought together through his elevation to Seelie King with the help of his Unseelie allies, Malchezed had schemed to reverse the binding of Sammaradriel's crown and claim both Courts for the Unseelie.
Coming to Iarlath now was a risk he had to take if he was succeed where Malchezed had failed, but Bael felt confident that the sorcerer would not have overcommited to either side; the sorcerer had lived far too long not to have learned how to follow the shifting tides of power.
Bael's unsettling black and amber split-coloured eyes had burned with intensity as he had related his tale to his old accomplice. Whether Iarlath read the look as a glimmer of madness or simple hatred for traitorous siblings, he had listened quietly as Bael had ranted in a rage at all that had been taken from him. In the end, the prince had lifted the Unseelie crown in his clenched fist and held it up for Iarlath to see.
"But then this was given to me," Baelerithon had purred, delicately caressing the bronze with the fingers of his free hand. "This made everything that came before seem so much sweeter. I was chosen." He had looked up at Iarlath searchingly. Now for the hard part. "I can forgive you for your betrayal. Now you must do for me as you would have done for Malchezed. Help me turn it, Iarlath, and I will rain down destruction on the Seelie until there's only one Court, just as we envisioned. Ours."
Iarlath had lifted one slim eyebrow in response and a spark of interest bloomed in his yellow eyes as he began dreaming of what it could all mean. But no need for Baelerithon to see the eagerness. Not yet. "Malchezed possessed that which you do not – the heir to the throne. My King never named his successor. Once Lord Gwyn was consigned to the Hunt, no other could have hoped to stand in his place. With no Eldest Heir anointed in the King's power…"
"... then any of the Unseelie heirs may serve instead," Bael had finished triumphantly.
The sorcerer peered around the room theatrically. "Have you brought one with you, Prince Baelerithon? I had rather thought that they were in short supply these days, and certainly none remain within the Court now."
"The very best hunters do not waste their time tracking, but anticipate where their prey will be instead," the Seelie had answered cryptically as he touched one of his temples in a conspiratorial gesture. "The King's remaining sons and daughters at Court will be wary of their siblings in the wake of his disappearance, but at least one son will not even realize that he must be on guard. He has all but forgotten that he was once a prince, and he has been away from the twisting cords of political entanglement for too long." At Iarlath's questioning look, Bael had let the name drip from his lips with deadly intent, "Caelus."
A flash of delight had spread across the sorcerer's face before transforming into a cautioning glance. "It would be wise to be careful around one who possesses Caelus' particular... gift. Perhaps it would be simpler with another instead? An easier mark? Does Prince Kieran not still ride with the Hunt?"
Bael had shaken his head negatively. "He has disappeared, as have all of the Hunters who now find themselves Unbound. Although I believe that I may easily divine where he will go with his new-found freedom, I would much prefer to leave a wild card like him on the table. He may yet choose to set himself against my brother and attempt to exact revenge for the history they share. A useful distraction from my own plans, if nothing else, and I do not wish to withdraw a blade from my enemy's throat simply because I do not grip the handle."
"But you still believe that you may catch Caelus unaware? What makes you so certain?"
"He was not difficult to read during my time with the Hunt," Bael had sighed. "Caelus has become accustomed to serving a master loyally, and in the absence of a Lord of the Hunt, he will return home to see if his father has a place for a son he once banished with little more than a whisper of an accusation and a false trial." He had tapped at his chin thoughtfully as he had reflected on his observations of the other Faerie's behaviour. "He wants to believe the best in others; he will believe that enough time has passed and all will be forgiven for what should never have been pressed."
With a meaningful look at Iarlath, Bael had hardened his voice. "It will fall to you to ensure that he is captured without incident. You were a trusted advisor and long-standing courtier in his father's court. He will have no reason to doubt you."
Caelus stirred above Bael, snapping the devious prince back to the moment at hand.
The Unseelie's mismatched brown and black eyes fluttered open and a low moan of horror escaped from his lips as he saw the smooth skin stretched over where his hands should have been and healed by his captor's gift. He caught sight of Baelerithon and blinked in confusion.
"You..." His gaze fell on where his hands had been casually discarded near the edge of the broken font and he choked in revulsion. A tear escaped from the corner of one of his eyes and slowly trailed down his forehead. "What have you done?"
Baelerithon sighed theatrically and brushed his long, black hair back from his face, smoothing the unclean tangle as best he could. "I'm almost sorry that it had to be you, Caelus. Of all the Hunters, I thought that you might have had the most gentle heart." He reached up as if he were going to touch the other man's face, but then let his hand drop back to his side. "You never belonged with them, did you?"
Caelus glared down at his captor and clenched his teeth for a moment as he narrowed his eyes. "Free me and I will show you how very wrong you are about my gentle heart, traitor," he growled.
A wide smile broke across Bael's face and he clucked his tongue as he wagged a finger at the Unseelie. "Now, now, Caelus. You are not making a very compelling argument for me to let you down, are you? No, I think you'll stay right where you are until I'm finished."
"Finished what?" A note of fear crept into his voice. "What are you going to do?"
In response, Bael lifted the Unseelie crown until it was nearly level with the older Hunter's eyes, but still well out of reach. "Your father never did declare an heir after your brother was cursed. Did you know that? He was so certain of his own immortality," he sneered. "Truly, when he uncovered Vindictus' plan to strike while he was weakened after reaping vengeance against the Nephilim, he should have realized his error and recognized his vulnerability. Instead, he threw Vindictus to the Hunt and contented himself with seeing a dangerous adversary brought low and humiliated."
Bael allowed himself a quick laugh as he drew an unlikely connection. "Perhaps it was simple spite and pride that kept him from choosing an heir. After all, my mother had named me as her Crown Prince less than a year earlier – could it be that he did not want to be seen doing the same so soon after she had?" He shook his head and chuckled to himself, murmuring, "It would not surprise me."
"Your talk of heirs means nothing to me, Baelerithon. Or is it your desire to bore me to death?" If Caelus had any reaction to seeing his father's crown, he was keeping it carefully masked.
"Of course not," the Seelie prince said soothingly. "Few have ever pried into the deepest history of our Courts. Why would they? Our rulers were seemingly eternal; what cause would we have ever had to doubt that they wouldn't continue to hold their thrones indefinitely?" He tightened his free hand into a fist. "But I pried, Caelus. After my mother threatened to destroy us all with her disastrous alliance with the Morgenstern creature, I knew that she could no longer be allowed to keep the crown."
He nodded to himself reassuringly. "I heeded her dutifully and ingratiated myself further, even going so far as to agree to watch over my half-breed brother and keep him safe from my sister if she threatened to revert to her more... violent... nature. I studied the rites of succession very carefully, digging far back into our lore to find the scraps of knowledge that had survived from when our ancestors first chose to cast the metals of Heaven into the forges of Hell to create the crowns."
Bael looked down at the ancient relic in his grasp and inhaled deeply. "We were so much more in those days, Caelus. They understood that even if our blood consigned us to either the Seelie or the Unseelie ranks, we would always possess that duality in our nature. And so the crowns were crafted to allow for the volatility of our ancestry. They could be made to serve either side of our bloodlines, if only one were determined enough to embrace the other side of their heritage."
The blue-white light of the ley font cast shadows over the two Faeries, one hanging nearly motionless, the other staring down into the flames longingly. Bael stretched out his hand and seemed to almost caress the air, curling his fingers inward rapturously as he breathed in. A tendril of the magic lifted out of the font at his call and snaked up his arm tenderly. Caelus' eyes widened in shock as the Seelie consumed the power with a euphoric smile and madness sparkling in his black and amber gaze. Bael shuddered with delight.
"Impossible..." the doomed Hunter whispered in awe.
"No," Baelerithon breathed. "The Eternal Forest showed me that I could be more, showed me how to accept both sides of what we are. It taught me how to survive. This," he gestured down to the font, "is in all of us. Latent, forgotten, pushed aside by centuries of ignorance, overwhelmed by pride in our superior angelic halves, but still present. We forgot that a half is not a whole without the other half."
"You must be mad..." Caelus started to protest. He was cut short when Baelerithon savagely backhanded him across the face, sending him rocking backward jarringly in his unconventional bonds.
"Now all that remains is the transference, the ritual that will unlock what lies dormant within my blood while granting me your birthright." The Seelie prince slid a wickedly-curved blade out of a sheathe at his belt.
Caelus swallowed and watched the blade anxiously.
"Unfortunately for you, dear Caelus, the descent from Seelie to Unseelie is significantly more unpleasant that the inverse. When Malchezed plotted to betray me and bend the Seelie crown to his own use, it would have required my willing surrender of my essence. For an Unseelie to receive such a precious gift... it would signal that they had passed the tipping point of the allegiance to which they had been born." Baelerithon snorted. "He was too stupid to see that even just taking me prisoner after the coup would have invalidated any sacrifice that I might have made, no matter how long he chose to wait for me to change my mind. He never could have succeeded. I concealed that secret from him and bided my time. I knew that if I made a show of considering his demands, I might be able to find a way to get my hands on the Seelie crown and put an end to his little double-cross."
Bael's face darkened with anger. "But then my brother ruined everything. Him and that girl," he spat. "They stole the crown and before I knew it, it was in my sister's greedy hands and I was exiled." He stared into the flickering light for a long moment before shaking his head as if to clear it.
"Look at me, lost in the past. I digress." He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, an Unseelie could only make the transition by receiving the freely-given essence of one of the Seelie, an act of pure trust. Would you care to guess what a Seelie must do to achieve the opposite?" he asked slyly.
Caelus slowly shook his head as his heart sank.
"I'll tell you anyway," Bael continued cheerfully. "Because it is your very unwillingly given blood that I require. An act of pure evil. Poetic, don't you think?" He paused, but the other Faerie remained silent. "And with that blood," Bael added thoughtfully, "your birthright as an heir to the Unseelie throne, and perhaps even a flavour of your gift, if Iarlath is to be believed."
Fear flashed through Caelus, jolting him out of his despondency. "No!" he shouted.
Delighted, Bael clapped his hands together excitedly. "Yes! I must confess that I've been very interested in what you could do ever since Kieran warned me. It was so much the opposite of my own ability that I wonder if it we were simply meant to be here, in this moment, together. Tell me – did you ever truly begin to care for my brother, or were you simply manoeuvring close enough to bring your magic to bear against him? I couldn't tell, and that's impressive in and of itself."
Caelus lunged forward, trying to reach the mad prince, but Bael danced backwards with an exhilarated grin. The Unseelie glared fiercely at Baelerithon. "He's better than you, better than any of us. It gladdens me to know that he is free, and I pray that his blades may find your heart when next you meet."
"Curious..." Bael murmured absently. "Not the answer I expected, but it hardly matters now. I will allow him to enjoy his freedom just long enough to watch while everything he loves turns to ash."
Two dark shapes passed through the doorway of the War Room and Bael turned around as Iarlath lowered his hood. The second, smaller figure, remained cloaked.
"Your Grace," he greeted Baelerithon as he bowed. "Are you ready to proceed?"
Caelus' struggles intensified as he once again recognized his father's favoured courtier. The sorcerer had captured him easily upon his return to the Unseelie Court, lulling him into a false sense of security with the familiarity of his presence before striking.
Desperate, the Hunter screamed at the once-loyal subject of the Unseelie throne. "Why are you helping him? You swore an oath!"
Iarlath's yellow eyes widened in feigned hurt and he pressed one bark-like hand to his breast. "You wrong me, my prince. I swore an oath of service to the crown. Better, I believe, to shelter in the eye of the storm than to stand in its path." He gestured sharply and Caelus felt his body freeze as the binding spell took hold of him.
"This storm will consume you," Caelus warned softly as Baelerithon removed his tunic and stepped into the ley magic font directly under the immobilized Faerie. Iarlath had assured him that the transference must be done here, where he had access to the purest connection to the ley magic through the link the old King had forged to the Eternal Forest for his retribution.
In response to the Hunter's warning, Iarlath only bowed his head and began chanting in a low voice, ancient words whispering through the chamber with deadly purpose. The blue-white light brightened in response and began pulsing eagerly in anticipation as if the font could sense what was to come.
Baelerithon's knife slashed upward and Caelus screamed as it sliced across the side of his face. His blood dripped down even as the Seelie tilted his head up to be stained. The warm, red, sticky fluid spattered across his forehead and fell into the flames below, fanning them higher. A low keening wove itself into Iarlath's steady spell-casting, and Caelus couldn't tell if the noise came from himself, Baelerithon, or something much darker through the font. At the doorway, still wrapped within the hood of her cloak, Taerynia closed her eyes, unable to watch.
Again and again, the blade flashed upward until Caelus' blood rained down, washing over Baelerithon in a macabre baptism of sin given unholy blessing by the screams of his rival. Iarlath's spell bonded with the blood, and the Seelie prince watched in wonder as his flesh seemed to absorb the crimson cascade where it landed on him. The magic fused the Unseelie blood with his own, and, inspired by the rush of the sacrifice, he drew as deeply as he dared upon the ley magic at his feet.
It started as nothing more than the trickle to which he was accustomed, but as Caelus bled out over him, he felt the thin tendril of power grow thicker even as he pulled at it. Energy flooded into him in an overwhelming tide that threatened to sweep him away before he broke off the feeding almost drunkenly.
Baelerithon could feel the Eternal Forest's satisfaction ooze through him as it lapped up the scarlet drops that fell into the font, and he fell to his knees as new sensations ripped through his body. He looked down at his shaking hands and slowly flexed the fingers of his left hand, wondering at what power his touch might hold now. His right hand still held the Unseelie crown, made slick with Caelus' blood.
Iarlath's voice trailed off as his spell finished with the captive Hunter's death, and he watched the Seelie prince expectantly, curiously.
The ancient bronze crown felt heavy in Baelerithon's hands as he lifted it with a twinge of fascination in his heart.
"King at last," he whispered as he gently lowered the circlet to rest above his brow. "De'nath al sonoriel me tel'aran rhe sion." A luxurious darkness wrapped his mind within its comforting folds as he felt the power of the crown sinking into his body. He could feel it seeping through his veins like the stolen birthright he had usurped, burning away what was left of his old self to replace it with something new...
"Long live the King," Iarlath recited reverently.
Baelerithon rose to his feet, still trembling slightly from the thrumming power that coursed through him. He turned his gaze upward to meet the dead Faerie's empty stare.
"For the love you once bore my brother, it would be a shame if you were to miss his wedding, gentle Caelus," he mocked as he reached up and patted the Unseelie's cheek, no longer wary of his touch. "I'm sure that something can be done about that."
The curved blade in his hand easily sliced through what was left of the Hunter's neck and Baelerithon tossed the head at Taerynia's feet. "A gift for the newlyweds. Make it presentable." He crossed the room to where a small ledge jutted out below the burnt-out map of Alicante. Wiping away some of the blood from his hands, he selected a small piece of parchment and lifted the Unseelie King's quill from its holder. My quill. His hand was steady as he wrote in his elegant script,
Dearest brother,
How fate twists to bring us that which we most desire.
Si vis pacem para bellum.
With gratitude,
Baelerithon
A tiny smile quirked up the corner of his mouth as he replaced the quill and passed the message to Taerynia. She failed to hide the disgust on her face as Baelerithon lifted Caelus' head by its hair and forced her to take it from him.
"You will obey your King," he whispered menacingly. She turned her eyes down and dipped her head submissively. Baelerithon nodded in satisfaction. "Move unseen when you deliver my gift – I do not think the Nephilim will look kindly upon any Unseelie." He quietly gave her the location of where he had learned the ostentatious warlock was busily preparing Rayce's wedding and then dismissed her.
"Shall I try to raise the courtiers, my King?" Iarlath asked tentatively, carefully observing Baelerithon as he watched Taerynia depart with her grisly offering. "The Court must be called back to pay fealty to you. It is within my power to locate some of them, and they will lead us to others."
"No," the Unseelie King answered. He rolled his shoulders back and the stumps of where his magnificent wings had once risen shifted with the movement. "I will not invite any challenge to my rule so soon. I have much still to learn." He looked down at his hands once more and felt the smile on his lips widen in anticipation.
"But, my King, you -"
In a flash, the Unseelie King lunged at the sorcerer and seized his throat in a powerful grip, squeezing threateningly as he slammed the tree-like Faerie back against the stone of the cavern wall. In a second mercurial shift, he calmed himself and leaned forward to speak softly in Iarlath's ear, "You presume too much."
Yellow eyes shot open in shock and Iarlath choked as dark lines spread out from where the Unseelie King's hand was clamped over his neck. The sickly-looking black lines flaked away the Faerie's skin like old ashes and his mouth fell open in terror as he felt his life draining away. The light in the cave brightened in excited response.
"Just a taste," the King promised before he released his uncertain ally and allowed him to sink to his knees. "You will await my orders patiently, Iarlath. You will not receive a second warning. I will not be betrayed again."
Gasping to recover his breath, Iarlath braced himself on one hand and looked up at the former Seelie prince whom he had severely misjudged. He ducked his head back down when he met the burning black and amber eyes and schooled himself not to reach up and feel what sort of damage had been done.
"Yes, your Grace. You are merciful."
Once Iarlath had bowed his way out of the War Room, Baelerithon turned his attention to the map of Alicante that stretched across one wall. The once-glowing points on the beautiful rendition of the city and surrounding countryside had gone dark, but they still held a certain fascination for the King.
"Pulvis et umbra sumus," he mused quietly to himself, recalling his brother's lessons from Ezekiel. He stroked one slim, blue finger down the map until it rested right over the Gard. "Dust and shadows, brother."
Caught up in dreams of what he wished to do to his brother and the girl who had destroyed all of his careful planning, he almost did not hear the soft clink of armour behind him as a hand slowly reached for the hilt of a sword. The enchantment against eavesdropping had completely covered any sound of approach.
The Unseelie King whirled around and instinctively drew on his new power from the crown to catch the intruder in mid-strike, paralyzing him in an instant.
"Vindictus," he greeted the Hunter with a faint note of surprise in his voice. "This is no way to treat your King. I must confess that I did not think to find you here." His eyes strayed to silver filigree coronet that banded the Faerie's brow and understanding dawned on him.
"You have no right," the Hunter growled, straining against the binding spell. "You are nothing."
"Nothing?" The King's eyebrow lifted questioningly. "I am everything." He drew energy from the font and let its tendrils wind around him sinuously like the coils of a snake as Vindictus watched, astounded. Before Caelus, it had been difficult to call the magic forth, but now it flowed effortlessly. "Born to the Seelie Court, I am not dependent on the ley magic to stave off Fading, though I may draw upon its power as I please. Baptized with the blood of an Unseelie heir and reborn through a ritual older than the thrones, I command the crown and all the strength it possesses."
Baelerithon whipped out the curved blade with which he had stolen Caelus' birthright and he laid the flat on Vindictus' shoulder so that the edge lightly kissed the soft flesh of the Faerie Lord's neck. "By the blood of the Hunt in my veins, I am no longer weakened by cold iron, nor salt, nor grave dirt. One foot in this world, and one in the next. Who may stand against me, Vindictus? You?" The blade pressed inward by a fraction and a thin line of red appeared. "I think not."
Possibilities swirled through Baelerithon's mind as he considered what gains he might achieve by harnessing the Unseelie's loyalty. With Kieran missing, he was running low on allies.
"I can give you the power you seek if you will but yield to me, brother," the King whispered alluringly. "Kneel once, and then rise as my right hand. There is much that we may do together."
Vindictus' pale blue and black eyes turned suspicious, but Baelerithon could see the hint of excitement deep within as the other Faerie asked, "Such as?"
The King smiled conspiratorially. "I do believe that we owe a debt of vengeance against the Seelie Court for all of the Unseelie who were lost in Malchezed's failed coup." Easy enough to lay the blame on a dead man.
"You mean against your sister?" Vindictus deduced. He felt the binding spell release his body and he lowered the sword in his grasp. Baelerithon gripped his shoulder in a brotherly fashion and squeezed once before letting go.
"It will be so good to have someone at my side who sees so clearly, Vindictus. Join me, and we will raze the Seelie Court. The glory will be yours, and all that you once held will be returned to you and more."
The Hunter did not pause for a moment. Hesitation now would mean certain death. He knelt swiftly and twisted his left hand over his heart as he laid down the sword in his right hand.
"I am yours to command, my King."
Baelerithon tilted the Hunter's chin up delicately, still marvelling at the power that he could now command.
"Rise, Lord Vindictus, and let me share with you the secrets of the Seelie. My sister will not be able to stand against you."