Shadows of Fire (The Shadow Realms, Book 1) Page 2

  CHAPTER 3

  The growing crowd of immortals made Cole’s upper lip curl as he watched them group before the dais in their finest clothing. There was such an array of ball gowns, fine attire, and the tunics of the dark fae that his eye twitched.

  The din of voices nearly drown out the music's melodic strains from the minstrels his father hired. Laughter floated on the air, and glasses clinked as the immortals congratulated each other on a well-won war.

  A war that most of these self-congratulatory fuckers hadn’t fought.

  Cole didn’t want to think about the amount of carisle his father spent on this affair. He knew his role here, but he hadn’t helped in planning it. However, there were numerous whispers about the dark fae king having bottomless coffers, so the money probably hadn’t mattered to his father.

  And after the war, those coffers probably tripled as the winners stripped all the losers' lands and money. Thinking about it made his head hurt.

  He’d never expected to long for the human world, but as the noise of the party increased, he would have given anything to be anywhere else.

  After two years of waging countless bloody battles in a war he hadn’t agreed with, being around so many immortals made his skin itch. He kept expecting a witch or warlock to lob a ball of magic into the crowd or a pack of lycan to turn on the others. Instead, they laughed and drank as if all the death and destruction never occurred.

  How short their memories are.

  But then, they were immortals, so a couple years of bloody war was less than a blink of an eye in their lifespans. And most of those gathered here hadn’t stepped foot on any of the battlefields.

  They stayed in their realms, in their towers, or by the Lord of the Shadow Realms and plotted the destruction of others. They did not actually fight, so to them, this was all good fun.

  To Cole, it was a powder keg waiting to blow.

  However, before the war, he spent most of his six hundred and seventy-two years in the lap of luxury too. Because of fights and disputes, he’d killed his fair share of immortals during that time, but those deaths were nothing compared to the hundreds he handed out in the war.

  Sometimes at night, he would find himself standing on those battlefields again. He was once more using his fae sword to carve his way through countless enemies as blood dripped from his clothes and hair.

  The amount of blood coating him added a good ten pounds to his frame, but it didn’t hinder him. As he worked to destroy, the screams of the dying reverberated in his head as the injured pleaded for mercy.

  Sometimes he would bolt awake, but other times it felt like he was clawing through quicksand as he struggled to pull himself free of the cloying horror of his memories. He often woke in a cold sweat and unsure of where he was, and it sometimes took a few minutes to recall the war was over.

  While fighting the war, the death and destruction hadn’t bothered him. Since its end, it haunted him.

  But the war was over; their side had won. That was all that mattered to the rest of the Shadow Realms. Or at least it was all that mattered to those who hadn’t fought in the war.

  It’s over. Yet a part of him remained on the battlefields, and he suspected it always would.

  “We’ve packed our palace with immortals who would gladly tear out each other’s throats,” Brokk muttered as he arrived to stand beside him.

  “But these are our allies and friends, little brother,” Cole replied.

  “The dark fae have no friends.”

  Cole couldn’t have said it any better himself.

  “Father says it’s time to take our place on the dais,” Brokk said.

  Cole barely managed to keep from sneering at sitting on that dais in front of all these gawkers. However, this ball was to show they were ecstatic about the war's outcome, and he would do his part to keep up the charade.

  Brokk adjusted the thin, princely crown on his head. The light reflected off the silver fae metal that had forged the crown. In the center was the black, oplyx stone of the dark fae realm. Located only in the clintick caves, workers only harvested a few of the rare stones from those deep bowels.

  Looking at Brokk’s crown reminded Cole he had a slightly larger crown perched on his head. He didn’t touch it because, if he did, he’d tear it off and throw it away. He was not in the mood for this shit.

  Cole slipped from the shadows beside the dais and strode across it. Brokk walked beside him as they put themselves on full display of everyone in the grand ballroom. The candles’ flames danced in their golden sconces and cast shadows across the black walls.

  The dark fae do have one friend… the shadows.

  They thrived in the shadows.

  For a few seconds, the room's noise remained at the same level, but as more and more guests spotted them, the noise declined until silence descended. Not even when the hush gave way to a raucous wave of applause that shook the chandeliers overhead did Cole look at them.

  He gritted his teeth against the impulse to leap from the dais and punch them all. Beside him, he sensed Brokk’s growing irritation.

  “How long do you think this will last?” Brokk murmured as they approached two of the three thrones set in the middle of the dais.

  “Days,” Cole replied.

  Brokk’s shoulders hunched up as he muttered, “I’d rather be back in the war.”

  “So would I.”

  Never had Cole wished to return to those battlefields, but at least he knew what to expect there. He had no idea what to expect from the immortals crammed into this room.

  His father rose from the massive throne set in the center of the three. A smile lit his handsome face as he spread his arms. Increased applause followed, but apprehension flashed in his father’s eyes as he looked from him to Brokk and back again.

  Cole smiled, but he was aware that while he and Brokk were making a good show of seeming perfectly fine to the room, they didn’t fool their father. Though they tried to hide it from him, the king of the dark fae knew his sons hadn’t returned from the war the same.

  But then, the king wasn’t the same either. He couldn’t be after losing five of his sons.

  Cole didn’t miss the increased sorrow in his father’s black eyes or that he sometimes locked himself away for hours during the day. He hadn’t done that since the years immediately following the death of Cole’s mother.

  With the door to his private solar shut and locked, the king sat in solitude while he grieved his losses. Cole would like to do something to ease his father’s sadness, but he had no idea how to help him when some days he felt like he was drowning too.

  Their side won the war, but they’d lost so much, and they’d failed to accomplish what they set out to do.

  Still, Cole’s smile became more genuine as his eyes held his father’s. Unlike Brokk and Cole, the king was pure dark fae, and because of that, he possessed the black hair, eyes, and lithe build of all purebred, dark fae.

  Cole saw little of himself in his father’s narrow face, hawkish nose, onyx eyes, and lean frame. His father also stood a good three inches shorter than Cole’s six-seven height.

  However, there were similarities in their thick eyebrows, full lips, and steel wills. Like himself, his father’s ciphers ran from the tips of his fingers, up his arms, and across his shoulders.

  When not wearing a shirt, it was possible to see the ciphers covering his shoulder blades as they traveled down his back before stopping at his waist. However, he had even more ciphers that he kept completely hidden from view.

  The dark fae kept many of their ciphers hidden from others, but these visible ciphers were impossible for them to hide. Some things refused to be caged, and their visible ciphers were some of them.

  The ground beneath Cole’s feet quaked as the immortal guests stomped their feet and clapped their hands. His father rested a hand on Cole’s shoulder before turning to Brokk.

  “My sons, the heroes!” his father declared.

  Cole hadn’t considered it po
ssible, but the cacophony in the great hall increased. Bracing himself, he turned to face the immortal creatures.

  They blurred together until he stared out at nothing more than a sea of faceless bodies scattered across a blood-strewn field.

  Cole shoved the image aside and turned to sit on the throne to the right of his father. His throne was noticeably smaller than his father’s, and it lacked the black skulls perched above his father’s shoulders.

  Feeling as if his bones might break, Cole gripped the curved, black ends of his throne until his knuckles turned white. Brokk walked stiffly in front of him and settled onto the chair to his father’s left.

  At six hundred years old, Brokk was the middle of the king’s sons. Because of that, he’d never sat so close to his father’s side before, but now that they were the only two sons the king had left in the Gloaming, Brokk’s chair had been moved to sit next to their father’s.

  Cole refused to think about what had become of his two remaining brothers. Like the rest of the losing rebels, they were stripped of everything and were now ruthlessly hunted.

  No matter how many realms they ran through, it was only a matter of time before they caught Orin and Alvaro. Cole dreaded that day.

  At one time, he and his brothers were as thick as thieves, and he’d always known where they were. Now, he knew five were dead and two were on the run.

  If they didn’t somehow figure out a way to take down the Lord, the next time he saw Varo and Orin, they would most likely be dead or on their way to execution.

  Despite having chosen different sides in the war, Cole was glad they’d survived, especially Alvaro. As half-dark and half-light fae, Varo had always been more sensitive than the rest of his brothers. He’d survived the war, but Cole knew Varo wouldn’t handle the aftermath of it well.

  If he was having nightmares, then Varo must be a mess.

  CHAPTER 4

  Lexi absently clapped along with all the immortals and tried to keep her mouth shut while she examined the exquisite ballroom and all the beautifully dressed immortals. She wasn’t used to seeing immortals dressed like this. In the human realm, they always wore human clothes to blend in.

  Even now that the humans knew about their existence, most immortals still wore the clothing of the mortal’s. She didn’t know if it was from habit or because the immortals preferred to blend in.

  She had noticed the dark fae stopped concealing the pointed tips of their ears in shadows, the pixies stopped hiding, the lycan sometimes transformed, and the vampires would transport in public, but for the most part, the immortals continued to blend in with the mortals while on Earth.

  And they were about as far from Earth as it got in this place. The end of the line was so far outside of the room that she had to stand on tiptoe to see inside, but what she saw awed her.

  The roof and walls of the dome-shaped room were black. Sconces holding torches of wavering flames hung on the walls. The shadows their glow cast swelled and danced as if they were a living entity—and in the Gloaming, they very well could be.

  This was the dark fae land—the land of the immortals who were one with shadows. There could be dozens of dark fae standing in those shadows, and she wouldn’t see any of them.

  She glanced uneasily around but didn’t see anyone. Then the stars illuminating the ceiling moved, and she forgot her unease as she went back to trying not to gawk.

  Some of the stars were constellations from Earth; there was the Little and the Big Dipper and Orion, but others looked utterly unfamiliar. A rising purple moon was followed by a large, red planet that slid across the top of the dome.

  As the familiar constellations shifted out of view, new stars rose to replace them. These were three times bigger and the color of a flamingo as they floated overhead.

  She had no idea what realm they were from, but their beauty stole her breath. She could stand here and watch this ever-changing display for the rest of her life and probably still not see everything it offered.

  Around her, the applause increased before abruptly ceasing. She kept her attention focused on the dome while she tried to ignore the oppressive heat of the bodies surrounding her. The main hall was gigantic, but the fae king must have invited every immortal who had supported the war as at least a thousand of them filled the room and spilled out the doorways.

  She tugged at the collar of her dress as a bead of sweat slid down her neck. It was a beautiful gown, but she’d never worn anything like it before, and she found the copious amounts of material uncomfortable.

  When the line started moving, she tore her attention away from the ceiling to follow the others. Beside her, Sahira practically danced as she shifted from foot to foot and twisted her hands before her.

  “This is so exciting,” she murmured.

  This is awful. But Lexi didn’t express her feelings; she imagined there were ears everywhere in this realm.

  Finally, the crowd moved forward enough for them to enter the main part of the room. Her eyes instantly settled on the golden dais at the far end of the room and the three thrones there.

  Strange carvings etched the gold dais; Lexi had no idea what those carvings represented, but she suspected they represented something to the dark fae. Ten steps led to the top of the dais, which meant the king and his sons looked down on the room from their lofty positions.

  In the center of the stage, the dark fae king sat higher than his sons and surveyed the room with an air of casual indifference. The crown perched on his head was larger than the ones his sons wore and possessed three of the black stones, while his sons’ crowns only had one stone each.

  The king’s pointed ears poked out from beneath his shoulder-length, black hair. He was handsome with his black eyes and high cheekbones, but the coldness surrounding him made her pull at her dress again as a clammy sensation crept over her skin.

  She didn’t know how he could appear so indifferent to so many immortals, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he yawned. That nonchalance spoke of his power as much as the black ciphers covering the fingers resting on the curved ends of his throne.

  Lexi gulped when she saw the two skulls behind his shoulders. The skulls were black, but she had the unsettling feeling eyes once filled the empty sockets.

  To the king’s left sat a handsome, slender man with disheveled blond hair that almost covered the tips of his pointed ears. The blank expression on his face didn’t change as the Shadow Realms’ members climbed the dais to greet him and his family.

  When she looked to the king’s right, she couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping.

  She’d heard stories about the king’s eldest son. She didn’t think there was anyone who hadn’t heard about him, including the humans who now knew immortals existed.

  His ruthlessness was legendary. His ability to kill was becoming mythological. The troubadours already sang about his feats on the battlefield. The few songs she’d heard in the marketplace told of his power, his size, and the way women fell at his feet.

  Not only did the women swoon for him, but his enemies cowered, and there were rumors some had killed themselves rather than face his wrath.

  Lexi was sure there was some truth to the songs and just as sure there were many exaggerations too. However, looking at him now, she didn’t think any of it was an exaggeration.

  Unlike most of the dark fae—who usually stuck to and bred with their kind—the king had spread out to other immortal species and produced nine children. His oldest son’s mother was a lycan, and it showed in the man.

  His shoulders were broad, and the thick muscles bulging beneath his black tunic differentiated him from the lean builds of the dark fae. He looked like he could tear the head from a bull and bash his enemies to death with it.

  Gold edged the sleeves, neckline, and hem of his formfitting black tunic. Beneath it, he wore a pair of black pants. The tunic and pants were the standard garments for the dark fae, but somehow, he made the clothing stand out in a room full of similar attire.

&nb
sp; The vibrant, Persian blue color of his eyes was evident across the vast distance separating them. Those striking eyes also differentiated him from the purebred, dark fae as they all had black eyes. However, he did possess the dark fae’s jet-black hair and pointed ears.

  Cut short, his hair emphasized his tanned skin and the angles of his cheekbones. His square jaw had a short, black beard lining it. He was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. And it was clear the troubadours weren’t lying about women falling at his feet as the ones who climbed the dais to greet him all preened and simpered while openly flirting with him.

  She had no idea how they could flirt so brazenly with him when he stared at them as if he didn’t see them, but each new woman who went to greet him smiled as she fawned over him.

  One brazen vampire rested her hand on his arm as she leaned forward. Lexi was sure her low-cut dress left nothing to the imagination.

  To be fair, they also flirted with the king and younger son, but it wasn’t as overt with them. Or maybe she imagined it.

  Uncomfortable with the display, she shifted her attention back to the stars but found her eyes irresistibly drawn back to him. As they got closer and the crowd between them eased, she saw that his ciphers ran down his thick forearms to the tips of his fingers.

  The black markings resembled flames with their sharp edges but managed to flow like water as they encircled his wrists and hands. She supposed this mix of fire and water made sense as the dark fae could control the elements.

  His short-sleeved tunic revealed more ciphers around his biceps before they disappeared beneath the material. They reemerged at the collar of his shirt. Cole’s beard hid them, but the way the flames moved up his neck made her suspect the tips of the ciphers licked at his chin.

  Having that many ciphers was a clear sign of his power and it oozed from his pores while his steely gaze surveyed those who came before him with an air of disdain. Only the arrogant dark fae would throw this big of a party and seem annoyed by their guests.

  As she and Sahira edged closer, Lexi found it increasingly difficult to breathe, and she tugged at the collar of her dress again. She didn’t belong here.