Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(62)

“Please rise,” Patches said to Zephyr and Creed. Then she glanced at the taller of the two fae boys with her. “Are we safe here?”

He was as intensely alert in the way of all of the bodyguards that Lily had known over the years, and she knew for certain that he was a guard or militia of some sort. He was also frighteningly beautiful: eyes that could be mistaken for ice chips, a face more suited to gods than mortals, and muscles that spoke of hours of training every day. He looked at Patches and nodded. The movement made his pale-blond hair slide forward. It was so pale that, from a distance, Lily suspected that his hair would look like a halo.

“Would you sit with me?” Patches asked.

As she spoke, vines rose up, twisted and braided until flowering chairs were sprouting from the garden. Forming seats from earth was something Lily had managed, but not six chairs simultaneously.

At Lily’s side, Zephyr was glaring at Creed like he was a stranger. Both boys came to their feet, standing on either side of Lily much as Patches’ fae boys flanked her. It was all so very formal, reminding Lily of the sort of contract negotiations she’d attended with her father. When both houses wanted to establish their authority, every word mattered; every gesture spoke.

When she glanced at Zephyr, though, she saw that his eyes were full of accusations and betrayal. All he managed to say was, “Do you know who she is?”

“Eilidh. Rhymes with Kayley and Bailey. Apparently not a fan of her royal entity of vengeance.” Creed shrugged, but Lily heard the tension in his voice that he was trying to hide.

Creed was nervous, but Zephyr obviously couldn’t see it. He snapped, “How could you keep this from me?”

In the next heartbeat, Zephyr punched him hard enough that Creed stumbled back.

Creed raised his hand to his jaw, winced slightly, and told Zephyr, “First one’s free. After that . . .”

“You disrespected our queen. You have no right to speak to the—”

“She’s not my queen,” Creed interrupted.

“Or mine,” Lily added.

“You’re all wrong,” Eilidh said. “But only as much as you’re right.” She sighed quietly. “Creed said you needed to see me, Lily, that you were ready for the answers I have.”

Everyone had remained standing, even though there were braided chairs of vine and root there beside them. The two fae boys watched them all intently.

“Please.” Patches gestured for Lily to sit first.

Zephyr tried to catch Lily’s hand to stop her, but she jerked away. He explained, “In fae culture, the highest ranked sits first. Eilidh is the heir to both the Seelie and Unseelie courts. She was born to take the Hidden Throne.”

But Patches offered her a small, sad smile and said, “Zephyr is correct. The highest ranking among us sits first. It is a court tradition that has resulted in many frivolous quarrels.” Then she met Lily’s gaze and said, “Take your seat, Lilywhite, so we can all sit as well.”

Both of the fae boys gaped at Patches. The guard looked at Lily again and then at Patches. “Is this . . . ? This is our sister’s child? You didn’t think to share your knowledge of her?”

Lily lowered herself into the chair, not sure if shock was settling in or if she was imagining the implications of the guard’s words. “Your sister?” she echoed in a voice that cracked.

“You see why I protected her secrets, Rhys?” Eilidh said, taking her seat.

“Does Mother know?” the guard, Rhys, asked. He and the other fae boy sat in almost perfect synchronicity.

Lily was still trying to sort out a different explanation in the words that she was hearing. Patches couldn’t be her aunt. For that to be true, her mother would have to be . . . the baby, the one whose death started the long years of attacks on humanity by order of the Queen of Blood and Rage.

“The queen’s baby died,” Lily said. “Everyone says as much. Even in the book my mother left . . .”

Patches shot her a sympathetic glance. “No, the book says that the queen believed the baby dead. She never found her daughter.”

“My mother.” Lily felt like her lungs couldn’t fill. “My mother is the baby who started the war? She is the lost heir?”

“I’m sorry for keeping so much from you.” Patches motioned to the guard, who sat on her left. “This is Rhys. My brother. Before my sister was born, Rhys would’ve been the King of Unseelie.” She motioned to the fae on her right. “This is my betrothed, Torquil.”

Lily swallowed, her mind racing to process everything she’d been told. “And what are we, Patches?”

“I am your aunt. My sister was your mother.”

The thought that her childhood friend was her aunt was almost too much to process. This stern faery was her uncle, and the queen . . . Lily stopped herself, not willing to finish the thought. Being the granddaughter of the woman who had shed so much blood was something she couldn’t begin to fathom.

While Lily sat silently, Eilidh glanced briefly at the boys. “I don’t know who your parents were, so I cannot tell you which of you is of higher rank.”

“That’s not why we’re . . .” Zephyr started, stopped, and sat. He looked over at Creed. “Did you know?”

He shook his head. “I just knew Eilidh because she came to me and asked that I attend Lily’s birthday party. She’d brought me an invitation from Lily’s dad.”