Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(77)

Rhys shook his head. “The trust is in asking rather than forcing you to give me the gun in your jacket.”

She removed the gun and handed it to him, butt first.

“And the blade on your ankle,” he said lightly.

Silently, she withdrew it and tossed it at him. The other fae all tensed, but Rhys snatched it out of the air with a grin.

He glanced briefly at Violet and said, “One more.”

Mutely, Violet bent her head toward Lily. Once Lily withdrew the sliver-thin blade, she walked toward her uncle. The other three fae who stood behind him all watched her with myriad questions simmering in their eyes. Unlike Rhys, these fae didn’t attempt to wear a mask of impenetrability.

Lily gently placed the blade in his outstretched hand. “I mean the queen no harm . . . as long as she means me none.”

“Have you no sense of your own worth?” he asked in the same level tone.

She felt the compulsion to speak Truth so she admitted, “I do, else I wouldn’t be here.”

Either she could feel affinities more here, or her uncle seemed to use his gift more freely here in his homeland. Later, she hoped to be able to ask him which was the case. For now, she merely met his eyes and added, “Would you take me to see the queen, uncle?”

Rhys nodded and glanced at Zephyr once more before saying, “She is expecting you.”

Zephyr, Creed, and Violet joined Lily. The other three fae let them all pass. Once they were at her side, Rhys led them forward. His fellow guards followed behind and to either side of the group, making quite clear that they were more prisoners than guests.

As they walked deeper into the Hidden Lands, the landscape became lush, and Lily understood why the fae’s home was hidden. There was a beauty here, a purity of earth and air that she’d never seen in the world she knew. If this was what the whole world had once been, it was a little easier to see why the fae were displeased by the decay of the current age. The trees here were green and thriving; the air was so pure that she felt guilty for exhaling into it.

“Being here is strengthening for anyone with our blood,” Rhys remarked in a voice so quiet it was almost imperceptible.

She said nothing.

“Don’t keep your hand so near the pocket with your remaining knife,” he added in that whisper-silent voice. “It will draw attention.”

This time she peered at him from the corner of her eye.

No further words were said as they reached the open courtyard where the queen waited. The courtyard looked like it belonged in a medieval town. A stone castle loomed behind it, and animals grazed untethered. Fae watched their approach, and although they were all remarkable, they were nothing compared to the queen herself. Endellion looked out-of-time. She had the same austere presence as Rhys, but hers was emphasized by both the aged wooden throne upon which she sat and the vaguely fearful glances that the fae shot her way.

Guards stepped in front of Creed, Zephyr, and Violet. Only Lily was allowed to move forward.

The queen watched her as she approached. Her expression betrayed nothing, no rancor or joy, no malice or acceptance. Endellion was unreadable.

Lily couldn’t look away. Aside from skin tone, the queen’s face was so similar to the pictures Lily had seen of her mother that if photographs of the queen existed, she would’ve known Endellion was family. Since Lily didn’t have her mother’s dark skin, her look was even more akin to the queen’s. Anyone who saw Lily here now had to know that she was of the queen’s blood. There was no way to deny it.

“Lilywhite.”

“Grandmother.”

The queen paused briefly before saying, “So you did know.”

“I’ve only just been told, but . . .” Lily paused, trying to measure her words while she figured out what to think of the faery queen. “My mother looked enough like you that if I hadn’t heard, I’d be wondering now. She had Seelie skin; I look more like you than her.”

When the queen didn’t reply, Lily pulled out the picture she’d brought and walked the rest of the way to the queen. She held it out. “This is her . . . with me.”

Endellion didn’t move to take it. She didn’t react at all, and for a moment, Lily was afraid. Perhaps boldness was the wrong tactic.

Lily started to lower her hand.

The queen moved serpent quick and caught Lily’s wrist and took the photo. “Did she know? All of those years, did she know who she was?”

“She died when I was a child, and back then . . . I didn’t know who she was or who you were.”

“I’ve never seen her,” the queen said in a voice that was thick with pain. “My own daughter, and I’ve never once seen her.”

Lily met the queen’s far-too-familiar eyes. “I don’t know what to say. Until I met Zephyr and the others, I was just Lilywhite Abernathy, a girl whose dad protected her and whose mom died. The rest of this”—Lily resisted the urge to look around at the assembled fae who were listening to her every word—“is all new to me.”

Endellion stared at the photo in her hand. She touched the image of Iana’s face with one finger, the barest tip skimming the surface of the photo, and said, “For years, I thought she’d died. Everyone thought that. They killed her when their boat hit me. Human carelessness, and I lost my daughter. My people lost their next queen.”