If there was one activity faeries loved more than they loved creating a spectacle, it was playing practical jokes on humans.
And yet, the Erlking’s sprite appearing in a box on my cousin’s doorstep after being declared dead was no joke, however impossible it seemed. I let the engraved box fall from my hands, where it vanished before it hit the floor. My circlet’s light dimmed, but the sprite remained perched on my shoulder, his shiny wings tickling my chin, his small semi-transparent form clothed in a miniature version of a noble’s uniform.
Sprites—small fae often employed as servants or messengers—couldn’t come back from the dead. Even the mighty Sidhe couldn’t. Yet somehow, he’d escaped the cage the merciless nobles had caught him in and found his way to me.
My sister, Ilsa, wore a mirror of my own surprise on her face. “He was alive all along?”
“I guess so,” I said. “I don’t know how Lord Daival got away with lying to all of us, but he did.”
“Holly’s still outside,” Ilsa added. “Should I tell her to leave?”
“I’ll talk to her.” Mum exited the living room and made her way across the hall to the front door. She was the only one of us who didn’t look totally stunned by the sprite’s appearance, but very little fazed the former Summer Gatekeeper. She and I had once shared the same vibrant green eyes, but now hers were the same dark brown colour as Ilsa’s. Her hair, tinted with blond streaks from long years in the sunlight, was tied in a topknot, while her strong, tanned arms spoke of experience dealing with everything Faerie could throw at her.
“Thanks.” I glanced at the sprite on my shoulder. “Please tell me you can speak English.”
“I can,” he said, his voice a quieter version of a Sidhe’s, melodic and resonant. “I am Swift, the Erlking’s advisor. I dared not speak to you before, for fear my master’s killers would find you.”
“Speaking of killers, Lord Daival told me he killed you,” I said. “I don’t know how he was able to lie, but I’m very glad you survived, and I think the Sidhe will be, too.”
“Did Lord Daival use those exact words?” Swift asked.
I thought back. “You know, I’m not sure he did. He said you told him you’d rather die than reveal the truth, but you ran away, didn’t you? That’s why he was mad at you.”
Lord Daival had lied by omission to take away the Summer Court’s hope of electing a leader chosen by the Erlking himself, as the sprite was the sole person in the Court who’d known the Erlking’s intentions.
The slight issue? I’d been exiled from Faerie a week ago for conspiring behind the Sidhe’s backs and claiming the deceased Erlking’s talisman. By accident, I should add. Gaining possession of a staff with the power to destroy any living thing it touched would be bad enough on its own, but in the Sidhe’s eyes, taking their former king’s property was a grave offence of the highest order. Never mind that the talisman had an agenda of its own.
The sprite must know what I’d done, but he seemed comfortable enough sitting on my shoulder. “I apologise for deceiving you, my Queen.”
“I’m not your queen,” I said. “I’m a human and an exile.”
“You wield my master’s talisman,” he responded.
“That doesn’t make me a noble Sidhe,” I said firmly. “The opposite, in fact. I got kicked out of Faerie for being the first Gatekeeper to lie to the entire Court. I’m not allowed back into Summer at all.”
“But you must go back,” the sprite insisted. “The Erlking needs a successor.”
“You do know who the Erlking’s heir is.” My heart lifted. “That’s why Lord Daival captured you, but you escaped without giving away the heir’s identity. Can you tell me who it is?”
Swift remained silent for a moment. “He did not name an heir.”
My hopes, risen from the ashes, returned to dust once more. “He didn’t? But I thought—”
“The Erlking intended for the heir to be given the chance to prove their worth,” he went on. “Therefore, he selected a number of potential successors who will be required to compete to take the throne.”
“Like the Gatekeeper’s Trials,” said Ilsa. “Right?”
“Yes, like your Trials.” Swift bowed his head. “The chosen few will compete for the crown and the winner will be crowned as the next monarch of the Summer Court.”
Well, shit. Given the chaos Summer had faced since the Erlking’s death, the sooner they nominated someone, the better—but the recent drama might not be so easily laid to rest. While the majority of the Sidhe supported following the Erlking’s last wishes, others wanted to nominate themselves for the position, while still others believed the Erlking wasn’t dead and would soon return to reclaim his throne. A contest would choose a leader in a decisive way, though, and everyone would have to honour the choice.
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll take you to the Summer gate and let you into the Court so you can tell the other Sidhe.”
Swift shook his head. “You must take me there yourself, Gatekeeper.”
“They don’t trust me at all.” A hard lump settled in my throat. “They want me dead because I stole the Erlking’s talisman.”
“The talisman chose you,” corrected the sprite. “That makes you a contender for the throne, my Queen.”
“Oh no.” I raised my palms. “A human can’t rule Faerie. The Sidhe might not be immortal any longer, but my lifespan is a fraction of theirs. I won’t bring peace to the realms even if I wanted to rule, which I don’t.”
“It was the Erlking’s wish that his successor wielded the talisman, my Queen,” he said.
“He of all people should know the talisman does whatever the hell it wants.” I lowered my hands. “Look, I can take you to Summer, but I can’t promise they won’t throw me in jail before they listen to you. The only reason I’m allowed to stay in the Gatekeeper’s house is because everyone in the Court is scared that I’ll turn them to dust if they piss me off.”
On the other hand, if I told the Sidhe the Erlking himself had asked me to accompany the sprite back into the Court, even they would have to let me back in. He might be dead, but he retained the highest authority in Summer.
Ilsa cleared her throat. “I think the sprite is right. You should go with him to make sure he’s not attacked on the way to the palace.”
“Agreed.” Mum was back, and from her expression, she’d heard every word. “Hazel, if you carry the staff, none would dare to harm you. You might be able to repair your standing in the eyes of the Sidhe if you bring them proof that not all hope is lost after all.”
My hands twisted together. “I don’t know. Taking the talisman with me seems like I’m rubbing it in their face.”
“You found the Erlking’s sprite,” said Ilsa. “They have to acknowledge that, at least.”
“He found me, technically.” There was nothing I wanted less than to see Lady Aiten or Lord Raivan again, but the sprite had nearly died at the enemy’s hands and sending him into Faerie alone would put his life at risk once again. All right. “Better throw on a glamour first.”
Since my exile, I’d been dressing casually for the first time in my life. For years, I’d secretly envied Ilsa her freedom to lounge around in a hoody and jeans while I had to apply several layers of glamour so the faeries wouldn’t kick me out for not looking adequately pristine. The Sidhe already thought me an imperfect human who would never match their majesty. My long blond-tinted hair tangled too easily, while my figure was strong and curvy rather than tall and willowy like the Sidhe. I’d spent years learning to walk like one of them, but I’d never be able to move with their level of otherworldly grace. Still, I put on my best glamour, a knee-length armoured coat with gold cuffs in the style of the ruling Sidhe.
The circlet sitting on my head glowed with the green shimmer of Summer magic, while the symbol beneath gleamed silver. The symbol meant Gatekeeper in a language older than the Courts, belonging to the Sidhe’s ancient and feared predecessors, of whom nothing remained but fragments of their magic encased in objects of power. Like the staff in my hand, for instance.
Cool to the touch and engraved with intricate, softly moving runes, the staff touched the ground at my feet. Shadows curled around its edges as though it sensed my nervousness, which it probably did. Some might find that creepy, but I wore my heart on my sleeve anyway. A smile came to my lips at the memory of Darrow taking the phrase in a literal sense. Like many faeries, he didn’t always grasp double meanings. I wished I’d asked him to stay here. I could use the moral support for when I faced Summer’s soldiers.
Ilsa prodded me in the shoulder. “Are you going to stand there staring into the mirror all day?”
I blinked and looked away. “I’d have expected you to be advising me to stay the hell away from Summer, especially with the talisman. You aren’t just worried about the Erlking’s replacement, are you? There’s another reason.”
“There is,” Ilsa admitted. “If a new monarch of Summer takes the Erlking’s place, it might be an opportunity for you to undo the Gatekeeper’s curse.”
It was a nice thought, but the faeries rarely left loopholes in their bindings. None of us knew which Sidhe had cursed our family to be bound to the Courts, but even the Erlking’s death hadn’t set us free.
“Don’t worry about that now,” said Mum. “Call me if you need me.”
Mobile phones didn’t work in Faerie, but I appreciated the sentiment. “See you soon. You too, Ilsa. With any luck, they won’t throw me out on my arse.”
I left the house via the back door in the kitchen, crossing the bright lawn towards the gate at the rear of the grounds. Fuelled by Summer magic, our garden boasted vibrant flowerbeds overflowing with wildflowers, ponds fringed with weeds, and thick hedges surrounding a pool of water which could heal almost any injury. Without the talisman’s poison, the waters of the Inner Garden had turned back to their clear blue colour, while every strand of grass was vibrant and alive.
The talisman was anathema to Summer’s natural state, but now I’d gained control over it, the creeping shadows in my hand didn’t so much as disturb a single leaf as I approached the doorway into the Summer Court.
Carved hawthorn spikes formed a set of gates topped with a swirling symbol that matched the one on my forehead. The Gatekeeper’s magic, which could somehow even resist the dark power of the talisman, didn’t twinge with a warning alarm when I pushed open the gates, so I assumed there wasn’t an ambush waiting on the other side. I was lucky the Sidhe hadn’t locked the gate against me, really, though my talisman’s power could counter any magic it came into contact with. One reason all the Sidhe feared it—and me by extension.
The moss-covered gates led me onto a sun-dappled path. I gagged on the smell of rot, my eyes widening at the sight of the trees stripped of their leaves and covered in clouds of rotting fungus. Piles of desiccated leaves blanketed the ground, while the once-evergreen foliage hung like moth-eaten curtains.
This is wrong. In Summer, death fuelled life, and nature was supposed to reclaim the dead, not leave it to fester. Though in Faerie’s time, little more than a day would have passed since I’d been gone, the forest’s decay had grown worse already and would continue to eat away at the magic of the Court until a new heir took the throne.
Beyond the decay, unfamiliar forests surrounded the gate. The Sidhe had probably shoved it into some dark forgotten corner in the hope that it’d vanish along with me, so it would be a long, annoying trek to find my way to the ambassadors’ palace. Swift clung to my shoulder, pointing to the right. “That way, my Queen.”
“I’m not your—” My boot crunched on the skull of some dead creature, and a shudder of revulsion seized me.
The first time I’d entered the gates to begin my Gatekeeper’s Trials, a committee had been waiting on the other side to accuse me of murdering the Erlking—including Darrow, a hybrid half-blood who belonged to the underground Court of the Aes Sidhe. With his own Court assumed extinct by both Summer and Winter, Darrow had talked his way into Summer in order to get hold of the Erlking’s talisman for his own leader.
He’d taken a major risk going back to her after he’d let me keep the talisman without challenging me, but it wasn’t much safer for him in the Courts, considering my exiled status. Which gave us one major thing in common, at least. Having to weave between magical powerhouses who cared little for who they hurt had been an exercise in extreme caution, not something I possessed much of. I preferred the direct approach, and hesitation wasn’t my style.
I rounded the corner and found myself with several weapons pointed at my throat. Just like old times.
“Hi, Lady Aiten,” I said. “Look who I found?”
Lady Aiten, a tall Sidhe with olive skin and dark hair, stood flanked by two armoured soldiers. One, a female with fox ears and auburn hair, narrowed her eyes at me, but the wolf-faced Sidhe on Lady Aiten’s other side gasped aloud as the Erlking’s sprite flew in front of their group.
The sprite bowed to the three Sidhe. “I have come to pass on word of the Erlking’s successor to those in charge of his estate. I came here with my Queen, and I would not see her come to harm.”
I winced inwardly. Referring to me as his ‘Queen’ in front of the other Sidhe wouldn’t make them hate me any less.
The Sidhe, however, didn’t seem to have heard that part. They all gaped openly at him, their features shining with wonder and hope.
“He knows the heir,” said Lady Aiten. “Why—we must inform them at once.”
“Not quite,” I said hastily. “That is—he mentioned the Erlking intended there to be a contest to choose a worthy heir, based on a list of those chosen by the Erlking himself.”
Lady Aiten ignored my words. “Who is the heir?”
“As my Queen says,” said the sprite, “the Erlking hand-picked a selection of those who he decided had the potential to be his successor. Since it has been such a long time since a new heir of Summer ascended to the throne, he believed it would be fairest if all the potential contenders were allowed to prove their worth.”
“What manner of test would this be?” asked Lady Aiten. “Claiming a talisman?”
Her gaze went to the staff in my hands, and the merest hint of shadows flickering around the edges.
“No,” said the sprite, his wings beating quickly. “The Erlking believed talismans such as this one are not objective entities. They have their own agendas, and the heir needs to be chosen by Summer itself. He laid out a number of tests, but I am only allowed to speak of the details to the potential heirs.”
“We will discuss this further,” added Lady Aiten. “Gatekeeper, you may leave.”
She was still calling me ‘Gatekeeper’? That was reason enough to believe she wasn’t going to sentence me to death, at least.
Swift flew to my shoulder. “I require the assistance of my Qu—”
“Please, just call me Hazel,” I said. “I’ll be fine if you stay here. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
“Assemble a list,” Lady Aiten ordered Swift, “and we will send out invitations to those selected by the Erlking. If they accept, the event will start tomorrow.”
“I will.” The sprite fluttered his wings. “As the Erlking wished.”
I turned to face Lady Aiten once again. “I know you and I don’t see eye to eye, but the Erlking’s sprite wishes to stay with my family at the moment. If you allow us to move our gate back to the ambassadors’ palace, it would enable Swift to travel back and forth without risking encountering dangers elsewhere in the Court.”
Lady Aiten’s eyes blazed with magic. “We will consider granting your request, Gatekeeper. Leave, now.”
