A Court of Desires and Darkness

Chapter 10

As I have suspected, the King has been planning to reunite the three feet of the Cauldron back to its base. Over the next six months, I have searched the castle for the Cauldron, its whispers growing louder by the day. Still, its location eludes me as if it didn't want me to find it. Perhaps that is because it knows I would try to take it away from the King. Not that I can escape just yet. I curse at the silver band marking my arm. 

The King has managed to locate the three separated feet. I confronted him about how he found them, and, to my surprise, told me everything. The Seer within his court--the one who found me all those years ago, and the one who has eluded my tracking this long--looked into my mind despite my century thick mental shields. I hadn't even felt anything. Those years kept in the cell with that cuff really weakened my defenses. I thought my walls were still as impenetrable as they ever were when I was free--er, less of a prisoner. But, I appear to have been wrong. 

Nevertheless, it will not happen again. 

I remember the day the feet of the Cauldron were removed, as I had aided the process. The wrath laced within the Cauldron's whispers echoed in my ears for decades. All idle threats, as it was lost in a frozen lake. Until, I had just learned--the King had retrieved it. I'm not sure when he did, but it has been quite some time. For so long, it has been speaking to me from within these walls and I had no idea. 

All those poor priestesses. Their lives ended for the King's selfish, power hungry gain. I wept when I was alone in my chambers the night I had heard the news. The King had made sure to share the information during the dinner, with a whole host of nobles, his gaze never leaving mine the entire time. The only thing that kept my powers from ripping into him is this damn silver band--the bargain. 

The King learned that the human--her name, Feyre--who was involved in Amarantha's death was Made by the High Lords of Prythian, bringing her back to life. During a meeting one day, we also found out that she is working with Rhysand. The two have found themselves on the top of the King's hit list.

With the power of the Cauldron, I helped the King resurrect Jurian, a human from the War. I felt his soul piece itself back together, felt exactly what his mind and soul wanted--to protect the human realm from this tyrant of a selfish conqueror. Though, I am unsure of his methods. With his help, the King has managed to ally himself with the mortal queens. Whether or not he knows that I keep tabs on him, I don't know. He does not elude to knowing.

Tamlin, the High Lord of the Spring Court, has allied with Hybern as well, hoping to get Feyre back. His soul, however, is visibly broken. Whatever misery he endured Under the Mountain with Amarantha has deeply rooted into him. 

Hybern has already declared war against Prythian, all his remaining commanders flocked to the castle. For each war council is full of battle hardened High Fae. I attend each one, if only to gain intel. With the inability to use my powers on the King or to escape, I have used it instead to pass information to Rhysand--or so I hope. Sending out my shadows with information over a vast expanse of sea and land is tiring. I can only do it so often without raising suspicion. I have a vague memory of where the High Lord of Night's court is--the Court of Nightmares it is called... fitting. I have not received any intel back, the only confirmation that I have reached someone is the return of my empty shadows. 

Two battles have already been waged against Prythian: one at Adriata in Summer Court and the other at Velaris in the Night Court. The intel for the attack on Velaris--a hidden city that the Night Court willingly gave away to the mortal queens--came the morning after I used my powers and it had not fully recuperated.  My efforts to warn them did not reach before the attack. From the look on the King's face told me that they did not successfully destroy their enemies. The Attor, however, did not return. 

A knock on the door to the war room startles me. With a wave, I quickly hide the stack of papers I was rummaging through before responding, "Enter."

A soldier steps into the room, "The King is on his way to the throne room with Jurian and a few prisoners and requests you to join him," he says with downcast eyes. With all that has been going on these past months, I have been a little more ruthless with letting my powers out. It mostly keeps the King from suspecting me--or so I continue to tell myself.  

I nod as I stand from the chair. The soldier follows behind me as I make my way down the hall to the side entrance of the throne room, the door ajar. I hear the eager, hungry whispers of the Cauldron before I even step foot in the room. 

Hello, Keeper, it purrs in my ear. I take a deep breath and step into the room. 

"Ah. Now we may really begin," the King says when I enter. There, in the back corner of the room sits the Cauldron, the three mortal queens standing behind it. "Come, wife." 

I walk up to the throne on the dais and take my usual spot, Jurian on the other side. Before us are three High Fae--two females, a blonde and brunette, and a black haired male--and two Illyrian soldiers. "Rhysand and company, I would like to introduce you to my wife, Canna--Queen of Hybern." My heart freezes in my chest. "You know her as the Cauldron Incarnate," he adds, the magical item itself vibrating in response. 

The group of fae in front of me glare, their eyes widening. I clench my jaw in hopes to hide my utter shock. How did they get here?

The last set of eyes--belonging to the Illyrian with blue syphons--lifts his staggering gaze to mine, our eyes locking. Eyes, beautiful hazel eyes, that I recognize. Eyes that peered at me from the shadows when I was breaking. Eyes that helped me stay together, though I didn't know it then. I notice the blood dripping down from a wound in the middle of his chest and fight with every cell in my body to not run and help him. 

He is the only one not looking at me as an enemy, full of hatred. 

Instead, there is a knowingness. A gaze of sorrow and understanding. 

He is the Shadowsinger.