The Twice-Scorned Lady of Shadow (The Guild Codex: Unveiled #3)(24)

Standing among the ruins, the fae of the Shadow Court observed our approach.

My hands tightened on Zak’s waist. “Didn’t you say a few fae would meet us?”

“It’s usually just a few,” he muttered. “Stay on your guard.”

I was already guarded, tension and adrenaline winding my muscles tight. Jewel-like fae eyes tracked our every movement. The members of the court were all vaguely humanoid, but one had flesh made of twisted black vines. Another had pale skin covered in a network of bloated veins, her grayish-white hair falling in a tangle down to her bony elbows. Another had a head reminiscent of a plucked rooster with dark skin, a stained beak dominating his face.

There were a dozen in total, all monstrous, all powerful. If this went wrong, we were dead.

Tilliag halted, the fae of the court still thirty feet away. Dismount.

Zak swung his leg over the stallion’s neck and dropped to the ground. I followed suit, my boots landing in the soft layer of flora and crushing flowers that released a sweet perfume. Back on ground level, I felt much smaller and more vulnerable.

Then Ríkr stepped up beside me and I felt even smaller. His wolfhound form was larger than a tiger, his shoulder level with my elbow.

The gazes of the Shadow Court shifted to him.

Zak took the lead, striding toward the waiting fae. I followed two steps behind, Ríkr pacing at my side. Tilliag waited where we’d dismounted, setting himself apart from us, but Grenior and Keelar had flanked Zak, their hackles raised warningly.

A hush fell as we passed beneath a stone arch and into the ruins. The shadows deepened, turning the drifting mist black. It felt like we were walking through watery ink. The Shadow Court stood in a rough half circle facing us, with a wide gap in the middle directly ahead, as though someone had yet to arrive.

Zak drew to a stop. He surveyed the line of fae, then focused on a male standing beside the empty gap. He was less monstrous than the others, with sleek ebony hair in a messy braid, two dark stripes running down his face, and black eyes. Half a dozen horns in two rows starting at his temples curved toward the back of his head.

“Lord of Shadow,” Zak said quietly. “Is the queen coming?”

The horned male parted his lips, revealing a line of shark-like fangs in his mouth. “An arrogant and presumptuous question, Crystal Druid.”

“Marzanna has always welcomed my visits. Has that changed?”

“Much has changed, druid. Much.” His black eyes shifted to me. “You bring others. Name them.”

“The other druid is unnamed,” Zak said. “She is consort to the Lord of Winter beside her.”

“Lord of Winter? I know of no such lord in these lands.”

Omniscience is a rare talent. Ancient power thrummed through Ríkr’s voice. Unless you wish to challenge my title, Lord of Shadow, withhold your senseless protests.

My eyes widened at his imperious order.

The Crystal Druid seeks an audience with your queen, Ríkr continued, his tone as regal as if he were still the King of Annwn. If she will not grant it, we will waste no further time in such boorish company.

My eyes went even wider before I controlled my expression. So much for Ríkr using his charm.

“Boorish?” the horned male replied quietly. “Should you find us so lacking in refinement, Lord of Winter, then I bid you share your judgment with our ruler.”

He pivoted to face the open gap in the line of courtly fae. A moment later, a sound reached my ears—an odd rustling like something dragging across the ground. The darkness was thick and cold, obscuring my vision.

The sound grew more distinct, accompanied by the soft crunch of footfalls flattening the flowering plants that filled the glade. A silhouette, darker than the shadows, took form. It drew closer and closer, and as it stepped into the gap beside the horned male, the thick darkness parted, revealing the new arrival.

Zak’s whole body went rigid. Grenior and Keelar lowered their heads, hackles raised and muzzles ridged as they snarled.

At the sight of that fae, my lungs stuttered—and when I breathed again, it was with fierce determination.

Welcome to my court, Zaharia.

The fae’s voice was a hideous blend of a high-pitched whine and a deep-throated growl. Cruel amusement lined his mocking declaration as black lips pulled back from a long, narrow snout.

“Izverg,” Zak rasped.

The brutish jackal let loose a high, cackling laugh.

I knew Zak had killed the Wolfsbane Druid, and I’d assumed his beastly fae partner was dead too. Clearly, I’d been wrong.

The vision I’d seen of Dex’s death hadn’t done justice to Izverg’s ten-foot-tall frame. He towered over the other darkfae, his ribs pressed against his ragged fur coat and his shoulders bulging above long arms. Unlike in the vision, he’d accessorized with two matching gauntlets of a steel-like metal that ran up his sinewy forearms. The jointed metal covered his bony fingers, and the ends were tipped with green-streaked purple stones in the shape of talons.

One of those gauntleted fists was braced on the ground and the other was bent behind him. Still cackling, Izverg pulled something forward and tossed it carelessly onto the delicate flowers. Fireflies scattered as the unmoving heap sprawled lifelessly.

My eyes darted across long, tangled raven hair and graceful, feminine limbs. Lallakai. I couldn’t tell if she was alive.