Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

“You wished to discuss the Pantheons’ verdict,” I finally say when our silence becomes a quaint power struggle I have no issue losing. “How many sanctions did they level against us after they heard about the fight?”

“None.”

The corners of her mouth have turned up slightly. Only on her face could that tiny change scream her approval. Queen Mab does not smile. Or beam.

Although, she also isn’t supposed to be affectionate toward her children. I always was the favorite.

“None?”

“Not against our Court. Our Summer cousins weren’t as fortunate.” Is that an actual smile? I pull my glamour a little tighter over us, protecting us behind an illusion of royal politesse.

She doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she continues, “The Pantheons found them negligent in their enforcement of the Accords. Said they should show the same good faith toward the official judgments that the Unseelie Prince did when disciplining his subjects at Mathers. Apparently one of the Seelie in the crowd shared your behavior with someone on the council. They were suitably impressed.”

Her joy is infectious and I give up fighting my own grin. “Careful, Mother. You’re looking positively smug.”

“A queen is never smug. Proud, perhaps, but that’s my son’s fault, not my own.”

Basking in her praise is juvenile, so I only allow myself a moment’s contentment before asking, “So, is this a celebratory lunch?”

“No, mo leanbh. This is a working lunch. We have much to discuss.”

It’s an ominous opener. “Such as?”

“The Knighthood—” Unfortunate, but not a surprise. She’s been pushing me to take the role for months now. “Your brothers—” Our discussing Sláine and Lugh is yet another miserable family tradition. “But those topics can wait. There have been three incidences on campus despite its being neutral territory. I find that concerning.”

“As do I. That’s why it’s even more important for our subjects if I remain here.”

Her fingers tighten around my arm. “The disrespect for the campus’s laws will only grow. They’ve proven how easily they can reach our people here. What will stop them from coming for you next? Every faerie in the world knows where the true power of our Court’s Triumvirate rests.”

The Triumvirate. The Law of Three. Both the Summer and Winter Courts rely on this balance when the monarchs channel the Court’s raw magick. Dividing it into manageable amounts between three heirs allows the burden to be shared. It keeps any one of us from hoarding the Court’s full strength.

Yet, the truth of the Triumvirate is more complicated. Three is strongest. Remove one and the other two can carry the weight. Although they may suffer for taking on more power than they normally would, the Court will remain stable, especially if a Knight bolsters the king or queen. And if the Court loses all but one heir, it must be the strongest support who remains.

Mother’s gaze is resolute and I have to look away first, crushed by the weight of guilt and duty. I am the strongest in our Court. As High Prince, Sláine may inherit the throne; as the youngest, Lugh may be free to act as leader of the Wild Hunt; but I am the unbreakable pillar that Mother relies on when they vanish.

“They will find you,” she warns. “They will exploit your easy accessibility if necessary. You would be safer in the sídhe.”

I sigh. “Mother, I’m one of the most powerful students on campus. No one is stupid enough to attack me.”

She makes a noise that’s not quite assent. More like acknowledgment. That’s some progress. “Not directly, I agree. But indirectly... There’s also the issue of the human.” Her dark gaze turns to gauge my reaction to the abrupt change of topic. “He’s a complication.” A polite word she’s used for centuries to refer to assassination targets.

“Only because he was remarkable enough for you and Sláine to take a personal interest,” I fire back. “There’s little other choice than to live here and keep an eye on him, after you both broadcasted his worth to all of Faerie.”

Her eyes flash. “Roark Tahm Lyne, be careful how you speak to me.”

The circling redcap guards wisely say nothing, even though Mother has allowed them to remain within the spell she’s cast to muffle our conversation. Silence falls between us, along with mutual regret. My mother and I are close, but my discovery that she’d kidnapped Smith is the only thing that has ever threatened to tear us apart.

She wanted his power, untrained though it may have been, and intended to keep him in our realm permanently until she got it from him. No one told me what was going on. I discovered who was hanging in the torture cell on my own. Sláine, the brother I trusted most, provided the explanation for Mother’s interest, something he knew intimately since he was the one who planned the kidnapping. Mother didn’t realize how serious I was about protecting Smith until she found Sláine beaten to a bloody pulp, face split from eye to chin with a rapier strike. Our familial bond alone spared him the entirety of my wrath. I felt no such hesitation in showing similar mercy to the redcaps working under his orders. I left their corpses beside him as a reminder of my mercy.

The memory of Mother’s face when I returned from dragging Smith out of the sídhe and back to our campus apartment, the confusion and betrayal she accidentally showed, still haunts me. I had never taken another’s side. I had never challenged her rule. She was my dark sun and I was her moon, following her through the years in a predictable orbit.

But that day, I refused her outright, challenged her claim to Smith. Our fight was brutal and bloody. Words were spoken, cruel truths that will never be forgotten by either of us. My scarred palm aches, a phantom pain from the spell I cast that day out of desperation and panic. A spell that, to this day, remains the only reason he’s safe.

As if she knows where my mind has gone, she reaches with her free hand and turns my palm up. Her fingers skate over the long-healed injury and she sniffs. The light catches the rising moisture in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, closing m

y hand around her fingers, hiding the scar from view. “I apologize for my short temper.” I can’t risk forcing her hand. If she thinks—rightly—that Smith is the only thing keeping me on campus, she’ll remove him without hesitation. I need to gain some breathing room, some time. The next words are dust in my mouth. “If you truly need me at Court, I can talk to my professors about completing my degree through distance.”