《The Knights of the Faerie Queens》


 A Nightmare, Undone

    There was a line, a darkness, that split the forest--a line of trees where there was no light, where under the thick pine boughs there was no moon-silvered glow. The boundary between the Court of Stars and the Court of Shadows. A place that was usually silent.


    The silence was now split with a single, pained scream.


    Kestrel lurched awake, clutching at his chest, and knew within seconds that it had been no nightmare. The scream had been real. The magic of the boundary lines thrummed through his veins as sharp, almost painful, threads, tugging him westward. Towards the boundary between the Courts.


    Towards the scream.


    Kestrel threw back the blanket, dressing himself quickly even in the dark, his movements quick and sure. He pulled his tangled hair back into a tail and snatched his sword from where he''d hung it on the hook on the wall beside the bed, then pulled back the curtain.


    The full moon glowed down on the clearing, bathing his skin with warming silver light. Kestrel pulled in a sigh of relief. Still night, then. He''d be able to travel more quickly.


    He pushed open his door into the wide, arched hallway, lit by willowwisp lanterns. As he stepped from the thick, mossy carpet of his room onto the glossy hardwood floor, the huge arched doorway across the hall flung open, and Seren looked out, her bright eyes wide. She caught sight of him, her fingers tightening on the wooden door. Kestrel paused, waiting to see if she had any insight--as the Queen, perhaps the land was telling her something--but she just shook her head.


    "Go." Her voice was sharp, tense, and it was all he needed to know for certain that she was frightened.


    His queen was never frightened, and that alone made his heart race.


    Kestrel turned into the shadow created on the wall by his open door, stretching his hand out to it. His fingers sank into the blackness, and he closed his eyes, visualizing the edge of the boundary--an abrupt line of trees draped in shadows, standing sentinel over a meadow washed in soft light. The darkness caught hold of him, pulling him into it, and Kestrel closed his eyes, feeling the sharp chill of the shadows across his skin, the ghosting trace of mist across his cheekbones and tugging at the stray ends of his hair.


    His feet stumbled to solid ground, and he opened his eyes, taking in the tall pines around him. The acid scent of petrichor rose from under his feet, and as he cautiously stepped forward, he could feel the hollow echo of the earth under him--a ground supported by a network of roots, layered only with loam and decaying needles.


    The moonlight played over the thin strip of meadow--perhaps a hundred feet wide if that--separating the pine forest of the Court of Stars from the dark oaken forest of the Shadow Court.


    Kestrel stayed tucked under the pines, his feet rooted in the shadow he¡¯d teleported into, his fingers steadying against the rough bark of the tree. Moonlight silvered the head of the grass, already turning to seed. A breeze rushed through the meadow, but nothing moved the way it shouldn¡¯t.


    Had it merely been a nightmare? Kestrel shook his head, dismissing the thought. Seren had felt it too. His sense of the Court might be off, but the queen was tied even more closely to the land than he was. He just hadn''t found the trouble yet.


    He stepped forward, then froze as something moved on the other side of the meadow, in the Shadow Court lands. For a moment, he thought it might be a wolf, but as the creature moved forward, he saw the face under the pointed ears and shaggy hair.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Jasper, the Knight of the Shadow Court, sniffed the air, his ears swiveling back and forth as they took in the sounds of the forests and the meadow. He straightened and looked right at Kestrel.


    Kestrel sighed and slipped out from under the trees. Across from him, Jasper did the same, and they met in the middle of the open meadow, staring at each other across the true boundary¡ªa thin creek, no thicker than Kestrel¡¯s hand, the water sparkling as it rippled across its rocky bed.


    ¡°Kestrel,¡± Jasper said, his tone formal. ¡°What brings you here?¡±


    Kestrel raised an eyebrow. ¡°Probably the same thing that brings you.¡±


    Jasper looked away, scratching the back of his neck. That told Kestrel that his guess had been correct.. He turned and walked along his side of the creek. Jasper followed him, keeping on his own side, his knee-length coat brushing against the grass and sweeping it out of his way.


    ¡°How did you know?¡± Jasper asked.


    ¡°A dream. You?¡±


    ¡°My Queen told me. And I¡­smelled blood.¡±


    Kestrel paused and glanced at Jasper. ¡°How did you smell me, then? Over the scent of blood?¡±


    Jasper grinned, his fanged teeth glimmering briefly in the moonlight. ¡°You smell like lavender and rosemary, Kestrel. Not hard to pick that out among other strong scents. Besides, I came downwind of it.¡±


    The hair on the back of Kestrel¡¯s neck prickled. So Jasper thought there might still be danger. He dropped his fingers to the dagger at his side, drawing it with a soft rasp of steel, and crouched, so that he was below the line of the grass around them. The last stubborn seed heads on the grass tugged at his hair.


    ¡°So what¡ª¡°


    ¡°Ssh.¡± Jasper suddenly held his arm out, his hand on Kestrel¡¯s chest, pushing him back a step. Kestrel felt the ringing in his head that alerted him that one not of his own court had crossed the boundary. His fingers tightened around his dagger hilt as he brought his hand up a few inches, eyes darting between Jasper''s neck and chest, readying to strike--


    Kestrel blinked and shook his head, clearing away the savage, defensive fog that had misted over his thoughts. His hand ached from how tightly he clutched his dagger. Kestrel forced his fingers open as he sheathed the weapon. He glanced over at Jasper and saw that the other Knight was watching him, ears flicked forward and alert.


    Part of him wanted to explain, but he knew he didn''t need to. Jasper was the Knight of the Shadow Court. He would understand how the connection to the Court worked, how the need to defend almost took over body and mind. By crossing the boundary, Jasper knew what reaction he had invited.


    He wouldn''t have done it without it being necessary.


    Jasper touched a finger to his lips, then crept forward. He pointed to a leaf, and for a moment all Kestrel could tell was that it was bent, as if something heavy had stepped on it. That could have been anything that had walked through the meadow¡ªan animal, another fey, a nature spirit.


    Then he saw the faint discoloration, a shade of gray slightly off from the gray of the leaf Jasper was pointing to. It clung to the leaf in a thick film.


    As soon as he realized what it was, Kestrel could see it on his side of the barrier too. Faint smudges coated the trampled leaves on his bank of the stream, trailing off into the tall grass in thicker splatters. Kestrel crouched and touched a leaf, smearing the liquid across the rubbery surface in a familiar slick.


    Blood.


    As Jasper stepped further into the thick stand of grass, the autumn-dry stalks crackled under his feet.


    A bird burst from the center of the grass, wind whistling through its wing feathers. Kestrel ducked back as the wings brushed the side of his head, grinning as he heard Jasper swearing. He turned to follow the bird''s flight path, recognizing the greasy feathers as those belonging to a crow. A carrion bird. His stomach twisted, and he turned to look for Jasper.


    The other Knight stood still in the center of the stand of grass, staring down at something on the ground, his arms crossed, his back tense.


    Worry tightening his chest, Kestrel crept forward, brushing the grass aside. It came almost up to his shoulders, the seed heads scraping against his arms and plucking at his clothes and hair. The water in the stream rippled around a set of stepping stones, more blood discoloring the moss on top of the stones.


    He abruptly stepped out into the center of the grass, where it had trampled, the mud of the stream banks churned under heavy footsteps.


    There, lying across the boundary line, one limp arm trailing in the creek, laid the body of a fey.

 The Corpse

    Kestrel froze, staring down at the body, taking in every detail that he could.


    The fey was lying on their face, body draped across the boundary line. Blood puddled under the upper body, trickling into the creek with a steady drip that he could hear now that he and Jasper had stopped moving. Nothing about the draped clothing gave him any indication as to gender or Court, and their long hair lay swept across the ground, pale and almost seeming to glitter in the moonlight.


    Jasper crouched down and grasped the body by the shoulders, turning it. The werewolf''s movements were slow, uncertain. He gently swept the hair away from the face, revealing fine-boned features that Kestrel didn''t recognize.


    Jasper sighed. "Not one of ours." He looked up at Kestrel.


    Kestrel shook his head. "A wildling, then?"


    Jasper shrugged. "That would require finding a Wildling to ask."


    Which would be an almost impossible task. The wildlings--a band of werewolves and fey who refused to swear allegiance to either Court--were notoriously difficult to track. They lived in the Deepwoods, the forest outside Court boundaries, tatter-coated renegades who had little regard for anyone outside their band. And even if they could be found, Kestrel doubted the odds of getting any answers would be less than the odds of getting a knife to his heart.


    Jasper gently turned the body''s head, revealing a messy gap in the throat, clotting blood still glistening wetly on the shreds of flesh that barely covered the knobs of spine.


    "Could this be a werewolf''s work?" Kestrel asked.


    Jasper''s shoulders drew up around his jaw. "There are more things with teeth and claws in these woods than just werewolves."


    This was true. Kestrel rubbed his upper left arm, where even through the fabric of his shirt he could feel the rigid scars left by an earth elemental that had had teeth and claws of granite. "But could it?"


    "You know it could have, as well as I do," Jasper snapped.


    Kestrel nodded. This was also true. Surely Jasper could smell the faint musk in the air--the dark, rich scent of a werewolf--but he wouldn''t push the subject. If the Shadow Knight wanted to hide something, that was his business.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "This is the fourth such killing on the Shadow Court''s lands in this month," Jasper said.


    Kestrel looked up at him sharply. Jasper wasn''t looking at him--instead, the werewolf was gently stroking the hair of the fallen fey, settling it on their shoulders as if preparing them for burial. Why had he shared that information? If the Queen of the Star Court was like Seren, she wouldn''t want anything like that getting out.


    Was he hoping to deflect from the question about a werewolf kill?


    "This makes the Star Court''s second," Kestrel said.


    Jasper nodded, his dark eyes solemn. "Do you remember anything of the warning that brought you here?"


    Kestrel frowned, trying to remember. The nightmare was ragged. Tattered shreds of memory that were already fading at the edges. A scream. The sound of pounding feet, rapidly catching up to him. An impact, painless, and a dizzying turn of the sky and the pine branches overhead. Then¡ªhe¡¯d sat up, in his own bed. Kestrel shook his head. ¡°Only pieces. You?"


    Jasper huffed out a sigh. ¡°The scent of blood and the sound of a scream.¡±


    Interesting. If he was telling the truth, then Kestrel had gotten more of the warning nightmare than Jasper had. Perhaps the fey had been on Star Court land when they had first been attacked.


    Jasper trailed a finger against the fallen fey''s cheek. "They''re a werewolf. Not of my old pack, though--I don''t recognize them. We should honor them. Together," Jasper said quietly.


    Kestrel looked up at the tall werewolf through the strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes, waiting. If Jasper was suggesting what Kestrel thought...


    "All of us. Both Courts, and the queens," Jasper confirmed. "We should meet at the Standing Stones. Bury them there."


    "Would your Queen approve of you scheduling a meeting for her?" Kestrel asked, rising to his feet. He slipped his dagger back into the sheath.


    Jasper''s lips twitched into a smile. "Probably not, but I think it''s important the Courts meet and discuss what''s happening. Now that we know that there have been multiple killings in each land."


    "I''ll talk to Seren," Kestrel said. "And I''ll send a messenger if she agrees."


    "I suppose that''s all I can ask."


    Kestrel stood and headed back for the shadowed line of trees, seeking the darker shades that would give him enough power to teleport. He glanced towards the east. The sky was lit with the glow that heralded dawn. He had to get back to the Court before the sun came up.


    As he stepped into the shadow, he turned back toward the meadow. Jasper was still crouched at the body, settling hair and clothes of the dead fey, his crouched posture reverent. If they were a werewolf, his reverence--and his reluctance to speak about it earlier--made sense. But did he truly not know the dead werewolf? Kestrel hadn''t thought there were that many in the Deepwoods--though his experience was limited. He''d been a Court fey since he''d been a child, longer than Jasper had been.


    It bothered Kestrel that he didn''t know these things, but he had no more time to observe, for the shadow embraced him, washing over his vision as it carried him back to his Court.

 A Feeble Trust

    Jasper waited until he could no longer smell the lavender and rosemary scent of the Star Court fey before slipping both arms under the fey''s body, lifting them. He would carry the body to the Standing Stones--they weren''t far from the meadow--and then return home to the Shadow Court.


    Although...perhaps he wouldn''t need to. A faint morning breeze wafted through the meadow, carrying not only the fresh, clean scent of dew and dawn, but the smell of moss and lilies. She was here.


    He turned, his ears swiveling to pinpoint the sound of footsteps, and saw the flicker of soft, tea-rose-colored hair an instant before the Shadow Queen stepped out from the woods, one hand on the hilt of her sword.


    "I thought I asked you to stay at the Court, my Queen," Jasper said, letting amusement color his voice.


    Desma pressed a hand to the trunk of an oak tree, her blue eyes sparkling in the rising light of the sun and a sardonic smile curving one side of her lips. "You really thought I''d do that?"


    Jasper chuckled. Of course not. Desma was a fighter--there was no way she''d be content with sitting around waiting for a report.


    Desma''s eyes fell to the body in his arms, and her mood sobered. "Is it one of theirs?"


    Jasper shook his head. "I didn''t recognize them either. But¡­" He hesitated, then said reluctantly, "Whoever they are, they''re a wolf."


    Desma frowned, but didn''t leave the shelter of her trees. She gestured, and he stepped closer, shifting the body so Desma could see the face of the dead fey. She raised a hand, as if to trail her fingers along the sleek jawline, then shook her head and dropped her hand back to her side. "I don''t see it."


    "It''s not something you see, my queen, it''s..." Jasper frowned. How to explain the sense he got when seeing another werewolf? The urge to raise his hackles and snarl at the offender for trespassing on his territory. The sense of never wanting to turn his back or show his throat, in case the other took those as a sign of weakness. The smell-sense was probably easiest to explain--the sharp musk that lingered, even in death. "I can smell them."


    Desma nodded. "I did arrive in time to hear the final bits of your conversation with Kestrel."Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    "Hey now, don''t go talkin'' about my bits," Jasper said,


    Desma tipped her chin towards her chest, raising both eyebrows and giving him a long glare.


    Jasper flattened his ears to the sides of his head. "I''m sorry, my queen."


    Desma waved away the apology. "Why do you think we need to meet with the other Court? A few deaths--it sounds callous to say it, but you know that''s not unusual for us. There''s always someone who has upset a wildling, or who has trespassed into the territory of a wild animal or a nature spirit."


    "Because no wild animal could tear out throats like that," Jasper said. "And I don''t think another fey did it either. That was done by something that was vicious, but more conniving than any animal. If there''s a rampaging nature spirit near the Courts, we must know about it."


    Desma raised her eyebrows. "And?"


    "Kestrel told me they''ve had unusual deaths like this one too."


    Desma stared at him, a stony expression on her face.


    "Please, my queen," Jasper said. ¡°I don''t pretend to understand the whole history behind your quarrel with the Star Court, or with Queen Seren, but surely you must see that to remain isolated like we have been is doing us no favors. Sharing information, perhaps even fighting side by side--"


    "You forget yourself, Jasper," Desma said coldly, turning away from him, the hem of her navy velvet dress sweeping the dried leaves across the forest floor, like the rustle of  uncooked rice being poured into a bowl.


    Jasper''s throat tightened, and he bowed his head, his forehead brushing the hair of the dead fey in his arms.


    "Meeting them is one thing," Desma continued. "And I suppose you are right--it won''t hurt to exchange information, to see if we can discover the meaning behind these attacks."


    Jasper glanced up at her, not daring to show his surprise on his face.


    "However, I would not expect help from the Star Court in the event of a battle. We have always been the buffer between the Star Court and the Deepwoods, and the one time they promised their aid, they fled in the middle of battle, leaving my soldiers to die. The Star Queen may as well have stabbed us in the back." Desma''s fists clenched by her side, almost unconsciously. "I will not allow that to happen again."


    Jasper eyed her cautiously, wondering if it was his queen, Desma, who was speaking, or if it was the Shadow Queen--Desma and her ancestors, all bound together in the same role and the long scroll of memories handed down by the magic of the Court.


    Desma blinked heavily, then gave him a sharp glance. Jasper swallowed. It was not a comfortable place to be, pinned beneath the Shadow Queen''s gaze. He''d been her Knight for nearly a decade, but there was still the feeling of perilousness around her¡­as if he was a moth fluttering too close to a candle flame.


    She gave him a nod of dismissal, then turned away. "Bury the fey by the Standing Stones, as you suggested to the Star Knight. Make sure the place is prepared for a meeting tomorrow."


    "As you will, my queen."