Familiar blue-white illumination flickered across Baelerithon's features, edging the slight curve of his cheekbone where his face drew up into a small, satisfied smile.

Shattered stone had been brushed back into haphazard piles around the walls of the War Room in the Unseelie Court, and the font of ley magic that had been exposed by his predecessor glowed more brightly than it had before Bael had come. It pulsed rhythmically, thrumming gently in his mind with the soft sussuration of power that rolled beneath the surface of this realm.

He turned the ancient, bronze circlet in his hands almost without seeming to realize what he was doing as he listened to the whisper of the font, enraptured by the hint of what lay deeper within. One who had not be brushed by its power may have sensed a malevolence seeping through the connection between the earth's magic and the Unseelie Court, but Baelerithon only felt the quiet security that came from being closer to any connection with the Eternal Forest. It had chosen him. His fingers traced the worn mark of the Unseelie on the crown and he felt his heart speed up as he considered what must come next. He turned his eyes upward in anticipation.

Caelus hung upside down from the ceiling, his lower legs sunk into the very stone up to his knees. Still unconscious, his arms dangled down limply above the gash in the floor where the great table had once stood proudly. Both of his dismembered hands lay on the cavern floor as a precaution; Bael had not wanted to take any chances with the other Faerie's deadly gift. No more mistakes.

He thought back on what had brought him to this place.

The Court had been virtually deserted when Baelerithon had once again found himself within the warren of darkened tunnels and winding corridors. The Unseelie had never faced such a dramatic drop in power as they had when the former King had overloaded the ley line network to destroy Alicante, and it appeared that many of the Fey had vanished until they could rebuild their strength.

Fortunately, he knew exactly where to go.

Iarlath's features had only slipped for a moment, a flicker of confusion that had come and gone too quickly to notice when Baelerithon had knocked on his door. Hidden deep within the Unseelie catacombs, the sorcerer's private chambers were well-known to the disgraced prince from his time spent plotting his ascension to the Seelie throne. Baelerithon, Malchezed, and Iarlath had spent many long hours secreted away from the rest of the Court as they had laid their plans; the brains, the brawn, and the power all working together as one.

But while Baelerithon had dreamed of a single, unified Court brought together through his elevation to Seelie King with the help of his Unseelie allies, Malchezed had schemed to reverse the binding of Sammaradriel's crown and claim both Courts for the Unseelie.

Coming to Iarlath now was a risk he had to take if he was succeed where Malchezed had failed, but Bael felt confident that the sorcerer would not have overcommited to either side; the sorcerer had lived far too long not to have learned how to follow the shifting tides of power.

Bael's unsettling black and amber split-coloured eyes had burned with intensity as he had related his tale to his old accomplice. Whether Iarlath read the look as a glimmer of madness or simple hatred for traitorous siblings, he had listened quietly as Bael had ranted in a rage at all that had been taken from him. In the end, the prince had lifted the Unseelie crown in his clenched fist and held it up for Iarlath to see.

"But then this was given to me," Baelerithon had purred, delicately caressing the bronze with the fingers of his free hand. "This made everything that came before seem so much sweeter. I was chosen." He had looked up at Iarlath searchingly. Now for the hard part. "I can forgive you for your betrayal. Now you must do for me as you would have done for Malchezed. Help me turn it, Iarlath, and I will rain down destruction on the Seelie until there's only one Court, just as we envisioned. Ours."

Iarlath had lifted one slim eyebrow in response and a spark of interest bloomed in his yellow eyes as he began dreaming of what it could all mean. But no need for Baelerithon to see the eagerness. Not yet. "Malchezed possessed that which you do not - the heir to the throne. My King never named his successor. Once Lord Gwyn was consigned to the Hunt, no other could have hoped to stand in his place. With no Eldest Heir anointed in the King's power..."

"... then any of the Unseelie heirs may serve instead," Bael had finished triumphantly.

The sorcerer peered around the room theatrically. "Have you brought one with you, Prince Baelerithon? I had rather thought that they were in short supply these days, and certainly none remain within the Court now."

"The very best hunters do not waste their time tracking, but anticipate where their prey will be instead," the Seelie had answered cryptically as he touched one of his temples in a conspiratorial gesture. "The King's remaining sons and daughters at Court will be wary of their siblings in the wake of his disappearance, but at least one son will not even realize that he must be on guard. He has all but forgotten that he was once a prince, and he has been away from the twisting cords of political entanglement for too long." At Iarlath's questioning look, Bael had let the name drip from his lips with deadly intent, "Caelus."

A flash of delight had spread across the sorcerer's face before transforming into a cautioning glance. "It would be wise to be careful around one who possesses Caelus' particular... gift. Perhaps it would be simpler with another instead? An easier mark? Does Prince Kieran not still ride with the Hunt?"

Bael had shaken his head negatively. "He has disappeared, as have all of the Hunters who now find themselves Unbound. Although I believe that I may easily divine where he will go with his new-found freedom, I would much prefer to leave a wild card like him on the table. He may yet choose to set himself against my brother and attempt to exact revenge for the history they share. A useful distraction from my own plans, if nothing else, and I do not wish to withdraw a blade from my enemy's throat simply because I do not grip the handle."

"But you still believe that you may catch Caelus unaware? What makes you so certain?"

"He was not difficult to read during my time with the Hunt," Bael had sighed. "Caelus has become accustomed to serving a master loyally, and in the absence of a Lord of the Hunt, he will return home to see if his father has a place for a son he once banished with little more than a whisper of an accusation and a false trial." He had tapped at his chin thoughtfully as he had reflected on his observations of the other Faerie's behaviour. "He wants to believe the best in others; he will believe that enough time has passed and all will be forgiven for what should never have been pressed."

With a meaningful look at Iarlath, Bael had hardened his voice. "It will fall to you to ensure that he is captured without incident. You were a trusted advisor and long-standing courtier in his father's court. He will have no reason to doubt you."

... Chapter 1 continues in the next book, Blood of the Hunt!