The Wish Granter

by C. J. Redwine

  A look that begged him to trust that she had a plan—which she did. Mostly. If you called choosing the best of two terrible choices a plan.

  “Ari,” Thad whispered. “You can’t do this.”

  “I’m taking your place.” She lifted her eyes to Teague’s and glimpsed Sebastian’s stricken face behind him.

  “No!” Thad said. “It was my mistake. My wish. Punish me, but don’t take my sister.”

  “Oh, I think this will punish you nicely.” Teague reached for the contract, whispered a few words, and the ink on the parchment scurried to rearrange itself until Thad’s name was gone and Ari’s was in its place. “I’m confident she means enough to you that you’ll do whatever I require just to keep her safe. Make a wish, my dear.”

  Ari tried desperately to keep her voice firm. “I wish to take my brother’s place.”

  Sebastian moved toward Ari as Teague leaned down, snatched her hand, dragged it through the bloody cuts on her other arm, and pressed a crimson fingerprint to the contract.

  “I’ll find you,” Sebastian mouthed as Ari met his gaze and held it while Teague chanted.

  “Ghlacadh anam de Arianna Glavan agus mianach a . . .” His smile was cold and cruel. “Shall I continue? One word left in the incantation. One word, and your soul belongs to me.”

  Ari’s stomach pitched, and she shook her head. Teague stepped closer, and she smelled pipe smoke and something vibrant and wild. Something that reminded her of misty meadows and overgrown forests and the stories whispered about fae creatures who would snatch you in the middle of the night if you were foolish enough to fall into one of their traps.

  “Be very, very sure that you do not cross me,” Teague said in his cold, polished voice. “If I ever suspect treachery on your part, or on the part of your brother, I will finish the incantation, and you will cease to exist.”

  Her voice shook, and it felt impossible to draw a full breath. “I understand.”

  “Excellent.” He put the stopper back in the vial. “We’re leaving.”

  “Ari!” Thad’s voice broke, and Sebastian reached a hand toward her as Teague grabbed her arm and pulled her from the palace.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  SEBASTIAN HELD HIMSELF in check until Teague and the princess had disappeared, and then he crossed the distance between himself and the king in five long strides.

  “Call the guards,” the king said as he gripped the edge of a table and pulled himself to his feet. Blood still seeped from the wound in his head, and his skin looked ashen. “Send them after her. We have to find out where Teague lives and keep an eye on her so that we know she’s safe.”

  “Guards would be too obvious. We can’t risk Teague deciding to take Ari’s soul. I’ll handle this.”

  The king met Sebastian’s eyes. “Don’t lose her.”

  “I won’t.”

  Leaving the king standing in the midst of the ballroom’s wreckage, Sebastian raced for the garden. He knew Teague’s carriage. He’d seen the glossy black vehicle with the golden spinning wheel painted on the door several times. He couldn’t keep up with the carriage on foot. Stars help him, he was going to have to figure out how to ride a horse.

  Ducking under low-hanging branches and hurtling over bushes, Sebastian ignored the gleaming rock path that wound through the garden and cut a path straight for the stables. When he ran out of the garden’s south entrance, he found the road leading from the palace choked with carriages as the nobility who hadn’t heard to lock themselves in the cellar scrambled to get away from the danger.

  Praying that Teague was stuck in the line of carriages, Sebastian sprinted for the stables. He burst through the door, nearly running into a groom who was holding the bridle of a brown horse wearing a carriage harness.

  “I need a horse,” he said, his breath coming in hard pants. “Quickly.”

  “Listen, we’ve got a line of people who want their carriage horses harnessed, even though those beasts are out there—”

  “The beasts are dead, and the princess has been taken by a very dangerous man. I have to follow her.” Sebastian leaned closer to the groom, his temper fraying. “I need a horse. Now.”

  “The princess is in danger?” The groom dropped the bridle of the brown horse. “Follow me.”

  Moments later, Sebastian was perched on top of a huge black horse—one he’d been assured was the fastest stallion from the latest shipment of Akram’s finest.

  “Don’t let me fall,” he breathed as he nudged his heels into the horse’s flanks and gripped the reins with white-knuckled fists. The horse moved briskly away from the stable, and Sebastian held its sides tightly with his knees. When he still swayed precariously to one side, he let go of the reins with his left hand and grabbed the front of the saddle instead.

  The horse jogged toward the packed palace drive, and Sebastian leaned forward to study the carriages.

  There. Five carriages back from the turn onto the road that led down the hill to Kosim Thalas. Curtains were drawn over the carriage windows, and the driver was focused on edging the carriage closer to the one in front of it.

  Sebastian had no intention of being the lone horseback rider on a road full of fancy carriages. If Teague decided to open the curtains and check his surroundings, he’d know at once what Sebastian was doing.

  Instead, Sebastian decided to cut down the side of the hill, enter the city itself, and wait in an inconspicuous place for Teague’s carriage to pass. Sebastian urged the horse away from the road and aimed its head down the hill. One good nudge with his heels, and the horse started running.

  Sebastian bounced wildly in the saddle, and cursed as his flailing feet hit the horse’s sides and made it move faster.

  How did one ride a horse down a hill in the dark without dying? Was he supposed to lean forward? Lean back?

  He leaned forward and hung on with everything he had while the horse thundered down the hill. When they reached the bottom, Sebastian’s fingers were numb from gripping the reins, and his body felt like he’d fallen down the hill instead of riding.

  Flexing his hands, he gently pulled back on the reins, relieved when the horse instantly slowed to a walk. Another ten minutes of walking through a sparse grove of date trees, with the road at the edge of his vision, and they’d reached Kosim Thalas. He cut over to the road and slipped between two carriages. Torches lit the city, throwing their golden glow across the cobblestones in wide circles. He urged the horse toward the first intersection, and then pulled his mount to the side to wait in the shadow of a shop with bolts of cloth, beaded belts, and feathered headbands on display.

  The carriages from the palace rolled past with agonizing slowness. Left with nothing to do but wait for Teague, the full weight of the princess’s situation hit Sebastian, and a stomach-churning punch of panic started as a ball of ice in his chest and then spread to every part of him until he was trembling from head to toe.

  She was under contract to the most ruthless man in Súndraille.

  She was one tiny word away from having her soul ripped from her body. From being gone.

  And there was nothing Sebastian could do to stop it.

  His breath came in sharp gasps, and he leaned his face against his horse’s warm neck while he fought for control.

  He’d felt fear like this before. When he heard the sound of a whip cracking through the air. When Parrish had died, and he was the only one left to absorb his mother’s bitterness and his father’s rage. When he’d first decided to flee east Kosim Thalas because starving to death in the merchant district seemed like a better fate than the life laid out before him.

  But that fear had been for himself. For the pain he knew was coming, or the future he was terrified to pursue.

  This was so much worse.

  This was his closest friend—his only friend.

  This was Ari, a name he could only bring himself to call her in the safety of his thoughts.

  He had no way to rescue her from the danger she was in. No way to take
the risk on his own shoulders instead. He didn’t kid himself. The princess, with her skills, her connections, and her confidence, was worth five of Sebastian to a businessman like Teague. There would be no more trades. No more negotiations.

  He closed his eyes and focused on taking slow, deep breaths. On counting to one hundred and then counting again while he waited for his heart rate to slow. For his muscles to stop shaking.

  He couldn’t rescue her, but the princess was remarkably capable of rescuing herself. He had no doubt she could prove it if put to the test.

  But she wasn’t going into Teague’s home to find a way to rescue herself. He knew his princess. She was going to search for the key to destroying Teague.

  And what would happen to her if she got caught?

  Sebastian swallowed hard and straightened in the saddle. He might not be able to rescue her, but he could help her with her search. He could be another set of eyes and ears. He could protect her from getting caught.

  All he needed was a way to earn Teague’s trust and gain entrance to his home.

  Teague trusted only those who proved themselves absolutely loyal to him. Who didn’t hesitate to do every unspeakable thing he required.

  Sebastian’s skin crawled at the plan that was taking shape inside his head. It would mean becoming everything he hated. It would mean diving headfirst into the squalid underbelly of east Kosim Thalas.

  It would mean following in his father’s footsteps.

  The band of tension around his chest felt like it was crushing him and his scars burned, but he ignored them as Teague’s carriage entered the street and moved toward the intersection.

  He shoved the rest of his fear into the dark, shadowy corner of his mind where the memories of his childhood lived. He’d put his plan into motion. He was doing this for the princess. It didn’t matter what it cost him as long as she was safe.

  Holding on to that thin comfort, he urged his horse onto the road several carriages behind Teague’s and began to follow it.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ARI WOKE, BRUISED and sore, to find the sun streaming through the windows of her room on the second floor of Alistair Teague’s villa. She hadn’t been able to see much of the property when she’d arrived the night before, but even with the sparse torchlight provided at the gates and the porch, she’d been able to tell that the place was nothing like the rest of the homes in Súndraille. Instead of gently domed rooftops and gracious arched windows, Teague’s house squatted in the center of a wide, tree-filled lawn. The roof was flat, the walls were dark, and the windows resembled narrow cat’s eyes glaring suspiciously at the world. She’d gone to sleep feeling trapped and terrified.

  This morning, the shutters on her narrow window were thrown wide, and a crisp sea breeze tangled gently with the sheer drapes. She closed her eyes as the scent of brine and sun-warmed grass drifted in and imagined she was standing on the south cliff with Sebastian, reveling in the power and mystery of the sea.

  Tears burned her eyelids, and she blinked rapidly. She wasn’t on the south cliff. She wasn’t with Sebastian. She was trapped in a monster’s lair, one simple word away from losing her soul.

  She was alone.

  All her life, she’d been surrounded by people she cared about and who cared for her. Her mother. Thad. Cleo. Mama Eleni. Sebastian.

  Now her mother was gone. Her brother and her friends were out of reach. And Ari had foolishly thought she could bargain with the Wish Granter and win. She’d thought he’d choose not to take Thad’s soul in exchange for a chance at unlimited power and the promise of safety that power brought, but that he’d leave her out of the bargain.

  Leave her free to find how to destroy him.

  Instead she was trapped in his villa, cut off from everyone she knew and every resource she had, and Teague was poised to exploit Thad at the cost of entire kingdoms.

  Grief swelled in her throat, and tears spilled onto her cheeks.

  What if she never saw Thad, Sebastian, and Cleo again?

  What if she couldn’t find anything that would show her how to stop Teague?

  A knock sounded at her door, and she quickly wiped tears from her face as the door opened and a tiny woman old enough to be Ari’s grandmother shuffled in carrying a tray.

  “Breakfast,” she said matter-of-factly, as if finding the princess here was business as usual.

  Ari sat up slowly. Her arms had long slashes from the beast’s talons. Her back ached where she’d been kicked. And something in her chest sent a sharp pain through her whenever she moved.

  The woman’s eyes, nearly buried in mounds of wrinkles, watched shrewdly as Ari struggled to get from the bed to the slim wooden chair that rested beside the open window. The woman put the tray, with its covered plate and mug of tea, on a table beside the chair.

  “I’m Ari,” the princess said, her breath catching on the pain in her chest.

  “I know who you are,” the woman said in the dry, papery voice of old age. She lifted the lid off the plate, revealing a dish of yogurt with honey drizzled on top and a slice of dry toast.

  It was barely enough food to qualify as a snack, much less breakfast, but Ari found she couldn’t stomach the thought of putting a single bite into her mouth. Not with the pain that lit her on fire from the inside every time she moved.

  She looked away from the food and found that her window faced the sea. Last night, hearing the crash of the waves against the shore had comforted her. Now it somehow made her life at the palace seem unbearably distant.

  “Eat,” the woman said. “You’ll need your strength. The boss won’t tolerate someone who doesn’t pull her weight.” She sounded smug. Like she’d already decided Ari would be a liability Teague would soon cut loose.

  “I’m not hungry.” Ari reached for the mug of tea, which smelled like lemons and cream and something dark and exotic that she couldn’t quite place. She took a sip. It was just as delicious as it smelled.

  The woman smiled grimly. “That will fix what ails you. I’m Maarit. I do the washing up, the ironing, the dusting, the sweeping, and the shopping. Don’t expect to be taking any of those from me.”

  Ari took another sip. “Am I going to be doing housework?”

  Maarit sniffed, though she watched the princess closely. “What else would you be doing?”

  Ending Teague, she hoped.

  “I don’t know. I’m good at bargaining, sums, and baking,” Ari said. And snooping. There were definite advantages to having been raised by a servant mother who’d taught her how to move unseen through the palace so as not to disturb the royal family.

  She took two more swallows of tea and looked out the window again. The sun danced over the water, golden diamonds glittering against the sea, and thick, pillowy clouds wandered across the sky. Her throat closed on tears that she refused to shed in front of Maarit. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see Cleo and eat Mama Eleni’s raspberry scones. She wanted to see if Thad was recovering from his head wound.

  She wanted Sebastian.

  Stars, how she wanted Sebastian. She wanted his quiet strength and his confidence that she could do anything she set her mind to. She wanted his crinkle-eyed smile and the deep stillness of his body when he mentioned his past. Missing him was a bittersweet ache that sank into her bones like it never meant to leave.

  “Thinking of running away?” There was a tiny spark of curiosity in Maarit’s voice for the first time. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  Ari turned away from the window, surprised that the movement didn’t hurt as much as it had a moment ago. “I don’t run from my promises.”

  Especially when she was one word away from having her soul ripped out of her body. She’d always been a loyalty-or-death kind of girl, but this was taking it to an extreme.

  There was a glimmer of approval in Maarit’s eyes as she said, “Finish your tea. You’ll feel better soon.”

  Ari took the last swallow of tea and then blinked. The room grew blurry at the edges and spun
in slow, sickening circles. She had the unsettling sensation that the walls were breathing—in and out, a slow gentle rhythm that sent a chill skittering down Ari’s spine.

  Setting the cup down, she rubbed her eyes, but nothing changed.

  “What’s in this tea?” she asked, her tongue feeling too clumsy to properly form the words.

  “Little bit of fae herbs blessed with magic. Good for knitting broken bones and cleansing the body of bruises.” Maarit lifted the cup out of her hands, and Ari caught a whiff of something that smelled of wild, overgrown forests and dark, loamy soil.

  Teague had smelled like that. Or maybe it was the open vial he’d held. It was unsettling to think that she’d just ingested something that smelled like the man she desperately wanted to destroy.

  She tried to sit up straighter, but it was hard to feel her legs. The walls seemed to breathe a little faster.

  “Back to bed,” Maarit said as she wrapped a wiry arm around the princess’s back. She was stronger than she looked, and Ari leaned heavily on her as they made their way back to the bed.

  Once Ari was settled, Maarit said, “When you wake, all will be healed. You have clothes in the wardrobe. The boss will meet you in the library on the main floor. You may go in any room on that floor except his study, and you are never to go to the third floor. That’s the boss’s private living quarters. I take care of it for him.”

  Ari tried to nod, but the bed was soft and welcoming, and little dancing lights were frolicking at the edge of her vision. She drew in a deep, pain-free breath, closed her eyes, and heard the walls sigh.

  Distantly, she was aware of Maarit taking the tray of uneaten food from the room, leaving Ari to listen to the sea and wish for Sebastian as she slowly fell into a deep sleep.

  TWENTY-SIX

  THE CRUSHING NOOSE of fear that had wrapped around Sebastian refused to ease. He’d followed Teague’s carriage to a sprawling, gated villa on the southern edge of the wealthy side of Kosim Thalas, and then had made his way to the streets he used to call home. He’d sold the horse to the liveryman—probably for half of what it was truly worth, but he was still flush with coin because of it. And then he’d entered east Kosim Thalas, heading for his mother’s building, weapon out, coin hidden, wearing the rage he usually kept locked away on his face for all the world to see.