Taryn stands next to me and rests her head on my arm in silent support as we stare down at the contents. The interior is lined in a plush, black velvet, designed to cushion the skeletal remains of its owner, as though physical comfort is a concern after death. But my father’s bones aren’t what’s resting inside. It’s his ashes.
My heart tightens at the layer of silvery ashes lining the bottom, the last remnants of a fae king; the last remnants of my father.
I wonder if my mother or maybe Seamus arranged to have his ashes buried down here. If so, I can understand why they might not tell anyone about it. Fae believe the vessel must be burned and the ashes allowed to be carried in the wind and returned to the earth. Burying them like this would cause our people to worry about their king’s place in Mag Mell.
“I guess no one got to the treasure, after all,” Taryn says, referencing the other item inside. Sitting amidst the ashes is an ornate silver box decorated with obsidian stones.
I glance at Taryn, and in her eyes, I see a reflection of my own awe and solemnity. Carefully, I reach down and lift the box from its resting place, surprised at the weight until I notice the slight rainbow shimmer to the metal.
“It’s made out of Luna, so it had to be made before we were exiled,” I say, studying it. Holding something that once existed in the Faerie realm hits me with a pang of nostalgia as I imagine there’s an invisible thread that’s able to connect me to my homeland from touch alone.
“It’s beautiful,” she says. “Do you recognize it?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never seen it before. Guessing this is where ‘destiny’s key’ comes in, but we still don’t know what that is.”
Earlier today, we searched through all of my digital archives on fae history, folklore, the stories of our gods, and random tabloid stories that popped up over the years. But we couldn’t find any mention of destiny’s key.
“That might be a moot point,” she says as I turn the box to study all the sides. “I don’t see a place where any key could go, do you?”
I sigh. “No, there’s no keyhole or holes of any kind. Maybe it’s a metaphor. Is there a fae spell or a song, a chant? Anything like that it could be referring to?”
“Not that I can think of, but that doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist. Maybe when we meet with Barwyn, he’ll know something. For now, we should take this back to the penthouse with us.”
“Agreed. I’ll call Connor on our way back and find out if he set up the meeting. Hold this for me while I put the lid back on.”
As soon as she takes hold of it, the pendant of her Armas lifts into the air and snaps itself onto the front under the lip of the cover. There’s a soft snick, then the Armas falls off as though whatever pulled it there to begin with is no longer activated.
We stare at each other in stunned silence. I know our thoughts are both racing along the same path, but neither of us is confident enough to say them out loud. Because if her Armas was designed to play a part in this quest, that means so was she. And my grandmother called it out in plain words. The only question is whether she was referring to this quest being my destiny…or Taryn.
I clear my throat and say, “I suppose we can open it now instead of waiting.”
She glances down at the box and nods slowly, as though coming out of a trance. “I suppose we can.”
I quickly replace the slab of obsidian to reseal my father’s ashes, making a mental note to question my mother about it at a later date. Then Taryn places the silver box on top, and I lift the lid on its hinges.
“Oh wow,” she whispers. “That’s not what I expected.”
That makes two of us, I think as the lump in my throat returns, bigger than before. Because my father’s riches that are nestled in navy blue velvet aren’t expensive jewels or gold coins. They’re gifts from his sons.
I pick up the slender, elegantly crafted dagger with a jeweled hilt. “Dad gave this to Caiden as a gift the day he was officially named the heir apparent. Caiden wore it on his hip every day. Then, at the end, when Dad was bed-ridden and near the end, he admitted that he was scared of death. So Caiden put his dagger in our father’s hands and told him he’d be fine as long as he had that dagger, and it worked, it gave him peace of mind.”
I set it back inside and trade it for the king chess piece, its polished black surface catching the light. There’s a small tag tied onto it with my father’s handwriting. “It says Tiernan gave this to him after winning his first tournament. That’s as good as any trophy since Tier never applied himself at anything other than chess and general debauchery until he met Fiona.”
She chuckles. “I look forward to meeting your brothers and their mates someday.”
Warmth spreads in my chest at the thought of introducing her to my family. “You’ll like them, they’re good people.”
“I’m sure I will. What’s this?” She picks up a carved wooden stag, the lines were crude and details sparse, but the surface was smooth and the shape good enough to tell what it was.
“I carved that as a winter solstice gift for him when I was fourteen. That red spot on its back is from when I cut myself working on it. It was my first and last attempt at whittling.”
“It must have meant a lot to him,” she says, offering it to me.
I run my fingers over the surface, feeling the grain of the wood and remembering the nights I painstakingly worked on it. “I didn’t even know he still had it.”
“I know you said he didn’t have much time for you when you were younger, but he obviously loved you and your brothers very much if these are the things he treasured most. That’s something, at least.”
She’s right. These items, seemingly small and insignificant, are cherished memories that my father kept close to his heart. Placing the stag back in the box, I feel closer to my father now more than I ever have.
“There’s only one problem.” I realize the same thing as she says it. “There’s nothing else in here.”
“Unless it has a false bottom. My mother has a jewelry box like that. You just have to find— There.” I pinch the small velvet tab that blends in with the lining and lift it up to reveal an identical glass vial to the one we found at the Bellagio.
“Bless baby Brigid, we did it!” Taryn grabs my face and plants a loud smack on my mouth that makes me laugh. Her excitement is contagious and helps to shake off the heavier emotions from a minute ago. I arrange all my father’s treasures back in the box and close the lid as Taryn uncorks the vial and slides the rolled-up parchment into her palm. “It’s still pretty early. Maybe we can find the final location tonight yet.”
“Thanks for finding that for me.”
Startled, we whip around to find the exit to the chamber blocked by the last person we want to see.
The godsdamned King of the Light Fae.
TWENTY-TWOTARYN
Edevane stands in the doorway, his shoulder-length blond hair gleaming and his emerald-green eyes sparking with malevolence. A smug grin spreads across his handsome face, revealing lethal fangs.
Finn steps in front of me, feet braced apart, fists clenched at his sides, and a menacing glint in his golden eyes that promises death if he’s challenged. “You take a single step in her direction, and I swear to the gods, I’ll rip your fucking head from your body.”
My brows shoot up in surprise at the melty feeling in my chest. I would rather die than ever let a male fight my battles. So why do I think it’s sweet that Finn just threatened dismemberment for looking at me wrong? Shaking myself out of it, I sidestep the giant to stand next to him, as his equal. He glances down at me, seeming to consider something briefly. Then he gives me a slight nod and returns his attention to Edevane.
