I was about to move on when I realized the memory hadn’t ended with the witch’s branding. She’d performed what Belanor would later learn was a possession spell. I watched the young prince’s back arch as something happened inside of him. He’d blacked out from the pain, and when he woke up, the witch was gone and no one had even noticed his absence.
In the days following the strange encounter, Belanor kept his new scar hidden, though he didn’t know why. Not until he heard a voice in his head and realized he was no longer alone.
When I realized the truth, my first instinct was to recoil, to tear out of Vulen’s psyche so fast it was likely to cause damage.
Belanor had a demon inside of him.
I’d always known demonic possession was possible, of course. Our parents wanted me and Damon to be prepared for the many, many dangers of the world we lived in. But they’d made it seem like an extremely rare occurrence, almost unlikely. It required the sort of magic that few people were willing to do.
Which fit Belanor to a T.
My mind flashed back to those strange moments it had seemed like he was talking to himself—I’d thought he was unstable. It was still an accurate description for him, but now I knew that Belanor had also been communicating with someone.
He had a master. A voice on the other end of those conversations. The spell wasn’t important to Belanor, it was important to the one who had started all this by sending a witch to the palace to bespell a young prince.
Demons answered to anyone with enough power, which meant the possibilities were endless. Whoever was controlling the cherubim, the demons, and Belanor could be anywhere.
I needed a name.
Desperation made me sloppy. I resumed my search, combing through the wreckage. I was so distracted I didn’t sense Vulen coming, and he almost knocked me out of his head. Gasping, I recovered and struggled to regain my hold. The faerie fought me with an unexpected surge of strength.
Despite this, our battle didn’t last long—between one moment and the next, Vulen’s resistance fell away. It was so sudden that I couldn’t check the momentum I’d built with my magic.
Something… broke.
My eyes snapped open, and I found myself staring into Vulen’s. His were so wide the whites in them smothered his irises. Before I could say anything he breathed, “Finally.”
I pulled back more, frowning. The sight of Vulen made my stomach drop. He sagged in the chair now, and his eyes were bleeding, just as Collith’s had when I’d killed him. But Vulen saw my horror and mustered a tiny smile. There was satisfaction in the faint curve of his lips.
“You wanted me to do this,” I whispered.
Vulen’s smile faded. Flecks of blood accompanied every word as he said, “I live inside the minds of the most corrupt creatures that walk this earth, my lady. It is like a radio that never turns off. If I were to leave the Seelie Court, and seek the quiet of solitude… well, I’m sure you know what happens to a faerie banished to the mortal world. Do you know what the old ones see in their dreams most? They don’t relive the Battle of Red Pearls or remember falling through dimensions. They see the gates. The closed gates. They will never open for us again. We can never go home.”
I’d never heard such depths of despair in someone’s voice. The way Vulen said those last four words was almost childlike in its smallness. But there was also something endless and hollow in him that made goosebumps rise along my arms. I knew, for as long as I lived, I would hear Vulen’s voice in my nightmares as he whispered, We can never go home.
Healer. We had to find a healer. I spun toward Laurie. “Is Maria here?” I asked desperately.
He shook his head, expressionless.
“I saw Seth in your mind,” Vulen whispered, bringing my attention back to him. His skin was so pale now that it looked like chalk. “Help him. He needs… he needs…”
I put my ear next to his mouth, worried I’d miss the rest. But Vulen’s voice faded, and whatever tension had been left in his body drained away, along with his life. He was dead.
Faeries were supposed to be immortal, and I’d just killed one with nothing more than the power running through my veins.
Finally ending the tense silence, Laurie cleared his throat. “Well. That didn’t end the way I expected, but at least nobody important died.”
I turned away from Vulen’s body. “Your brother is possessed by a demon,” I said dully. “The rest of the plan is off. We’ll have to go to plan B again. Do you want to contact her or should I?”
Silence met my news. Then, once he’d had a chance to process it, I was distantly aware of Laurie uttering a low oath. “She’s going to love that. How long?” he added.
He hadn’t moved, so I turned and raised my gaze to his. My brow lowered as I registered his question. “How long has Belanor been possessed? I’m not sure how old you two were at the time, since the fae age so differently than other species. But if you were human, I’d say you looked six or seven.”
“So my brother… my brother has been stuck in his own body for decades. Forced to watch and hear everything.”
Laurie’s face was neutral, but the slow way he said this revelation made me ache. I put my hands on his folded arms. His gaze dropped, noting the touch. “I was never taught about how possession works, Laurie,” I said softly. “So I can’t tell you if the victim is aware of what’s happening. There’s nothing we can do about it tonight. You should send that text.”
He stood very still, saying nothing, but he knew as well as I did that a blade dipped in holy water wouldn’t be enough to send Belanor’s demon back to Hell. Mom had mentioned once, during a lesson on Fallenkind, that it was nearly impossible to eradicate a demon from its host.
I couldn’t bear to be in this room any longer. Yanking at my skirts, I whirled away from Vulen’s body and went to the door. My expression was wiped clean because I knew Collith would be in the hallway, creating illusions for anyone who came near the room we’d occupied.
Sifting to beat me there, Laurie reached for the door handle, but he didn’t open it. He probably wouldn’t until I said something. Fine. “I blame you for this,” I informed him.
Laurie quirked an eyebrow. “Pardon me, but I don’t remember telling you to turn his brains into oatmeal.”
I raised my eyebrows right back. “I didn’t say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.”
“Oh, I see. Very mature, my queen.”
This time, I did say it. “I’m not a queen anymore.”
I couldn’t hide the shame burning me up inside, simmering in my body like lava. Laurie looked at me for a moment, and there was a tender note in his voice as he replied, “Fortunately, a crown doesn’t make a queen, Fortuna Sworn.”
While I was in the hospital, Lyari had said almost exactly the same thing. Hearing it from Laurie brought a rush of different feelings. Feelings I didn’t want to acknowledge when there was a body a few feet away from us. “Enough with the games,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Why did you help us tonight? Don’t try to say it was for my and Collith’s sake. I saw your face when we walked into the opera house—you have a plan.”
Laurie examined his nails. “While you were so busy pretending you still hate Collith tonight, did you tear yourself away from him long enough to notice how many courtiers spoke to me? That was just in the time I had in between leaving your side and acting as an accomplice to murder. It seems Fortuna Sworn is known as a powerful ally in our world. Everyone is quite impressed that I’ve attended yet another event with the last Nightmare on my arm.”