Oh, yeah. I’m gonna be locked up in the psych ward forever if I don’t escape Dr. Gillespie now. The same Dr. Gillespie who has just proven that—like others in Black Pine—he’s familiar enough with the fae to carry an iron nail and a weirdo seeing stone with him.
I back up. His head follows my every move.
Now that he can see me, I’ve lost any advantage I had. How much longer until he starts asking me about my parlor trick with the shadows? And then, after that, about Nine?
I can’t do it. But can I get past him? Good question. On my best days, I could probably fight him off. Today… is not one of my best days. I haven’t gotten any kind of restful sleep in more than two days. I’m tired. Weak. And, right now, I feel like a cornered animal. Part of me wants to lash out—even though I know it would be a bad idea to do that—while retreating seems like a good plan.
Without taking my gaze off of the doctor, I glance behind me out of the corner of one eye.
It’s dark. Really dark. Super dark. At first, I wonder if maybe there’s a way out behind the shadows—and then I realize something. Those aren’t just shadows.
It’s a patch of night in the middle of the afternoon.
No, it’s a portal.
And I’m supposed to be able to shade-walk.
I haven’t tried since the day Nine dragged me to Faerie and I had to let myself faint in order to travel back through the shadows. I spent most of my lonely nights at the Wilkes House playing with shadows, testing my control. I must have gotten pretty okay at it, since I managed to hide my body inside of them before he used that rock to find me.
Can I jump through the portal and get out of here without Dr. Gillespie and his interesting necklace following behind me?
Well, only one way to find out.
Before the doctor can move any closer, I rise up from my partial crouch, sidle a few steps down the alley, then turn and run toward the portal.
“Riley, no!”
With Dr. Gillespie’s furious shout a dying whisper behind me, I jump into the shadows, close my eyes, and hope like hell that I didn’t just screw things up even worse.
19
I land on a fluffy bed of grass. It’s soft and bouncy and, oh boy—
Blue
It’s blue.
Damn it.
Faerie. Of course I’ve landed in Faerie.
It was my biggest fear. It’s the reason why I kept from trying to shade-walk on my own, or while I was awake. I didn’t know what I was doing and, after the way I must have fallen into a trap the first time I shade-walked, it seemed inevitable that I would end up crossing over instead of popping out of another portal in the human realm.
Which is exactly what just happened.
I immediately hop back up, leaving my sunglasses and my cap on the ground where they fell. No time to retrieve them. I can’t protect myself if I’m flat on my belly or even on my hands and knees so it makes sense to get up first, worry about my disguise second.
Once I’m standing, my anxious hands flexing and twitching and trembling inside of my gloves, I spin around, hoping with everything I’ve got in me that I made it to the opposite side of Faerie.
Just not—
“Ah, crap,” I mutter.
The Fae Queen’s gardens. There’s no denying that’s where I am. The sky is the same dark magenta shade, mixed and swirled with clouds that are this deep golden color. Blue grass that’s soft and springy, and looks like cotton candy. And the trees… sparkling silver, dripping with icicles that are more crystal than ice.
I take a deep breath and choke on the oppressive air. It’s hot. Humid. A never-ending summer.
Now I’m pretty sure I know why. The Fae Queen rules all of Faerie, but she’s got the power of the Seelie behind her. Nine told me once that she keeps her domain in the Summer Court.
It would explain the heat, at least.
I’ve got to get out of here.
My heart in my throat, I shield my gaze with my hand, looking for some way out. I turn. Nothing. No shadows. No portals, either. No pockets. All I see are the glittering trees, the weirdo grass, and the sky that looks like sunset no matter what time of day it is.
“Not leaving so soon, I hope.”
At that sweet, soft female voice, I swivel back around.
And there she is.
She’s… I don’t want to say beautiful, because that doesn’t do her justice. Gorgeous? An understatement. Stunning is close, since I’m totally stunned as I stare up at her.
Like the best of the fae, she’s tall and slender, though she’s also got a set of curves that make my stick figure want to cry out in envy. Her long, flowy gown is molded to every line of her perfect body, accentuating her trim waist. The skirt reaches just past her calves, revealing bare feet. Despite the way she’s standing outdoors without any shoes on, her feet are as pristine and immaculate as every other inch of her.
Instinctively I hate her, and then feel guilty for it. I settle on being extremely jealous instead. And just a bit intimidated.
Her skin is the same shade as freshly fallen snow, with a rosy flush coloring her high cheekbones. Thick, glossy, golden blonde curls cascade down her back. Of all her features, though, it’s her eyes that are the most striking. Big and wide and expressive, this fae has pale yellow eyes.
Not gold, like Rys’s glowing peepers.
Yellow. Such a pale yellow, in fact, that it’s almost like there’s no pigment there at all. I’ve never seen a color like that before and, okay, it’s kind of creepy.
And that’s when she smiles down at me.
I stand my ground. Because she might be smiling with her lips, but those unblinking eyes are totally sizing me up. I’m betting she’s trying to figure out who I am, what I’m doing here. I’m definitely doing the same thing to her. When the corners of her mouth lift a little higher, I figure she’s doing a much better job than I am.
“Ah, Shadow,” she says lightly. “It’s about time you’ve finally arrived. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I gulp.
Well, that answered my question. A lovely, unique fae wandering around the Fae Queen’s garden who’s been waiting for the Shadow?
It’s Melisandre, isn’t it?
Holy shit.
I should’ve taken my chances with Doctor Gillespie.
It takes me a second to realize that, even worse, she isn’t alone. I was so distracted—first by her unearthly beauty, then by my realization that I’m face to face with my greatest threat—that I don’t notice that, behind her, there are six guards.
They flank her, three on each side. On her left, she has three Dark Fae guards. On her right, three Light Fae guards.
The last one is Rys.
My breath catches in my throat when I recognize him. He’s standing on the queen’s farthest side. Now that, for the first time ever, I’m face to face with more of the fae, I can see that the coloring is pretty universal. The two other Seelie near Rys share the same tawny hair, the same golden eyes, the same bronze tan—just like the Unseelie are pale with dark hair that’s a perfect contrast to their skin. They’re not clones, though; each one has a different face, each one more beautiful than the last.
I could pick Rys out of a line-up of a hundred Seelie fae. Not only do I know him, so I can pick up on the small differences, but there’s one big, honking one staring me in the face.
Or, rather, a mark on his.
He’s got a scar, and not some small, tiny one, either. A slash that starts near the corner of his eye, crossing the height of his cheek down to the top of his lip. It’s at least three inches long, bumpy, and, since it’s kind of fresh, a nasty, violent purple.
That’s from me. I know it is. I did that to him. There must’ve been iron in the shovel when I swung at him, because not only did it hurt him enough to let loose his fire, but it left its mark.
No wonder he’s flanking the queen. After what happened at the cemetery, I’m probably at the top of his shit list. Melisandre is
after my head? The sword hanging at his hip would probably do the job pretty easily.
Could this get any worse?
Shouldn’t have let that thought cross my mind. As soon as it does, the queen gestures at me. It’s obviously a signal because, the second her arm is lowered, her guards break formation. Instead of flanking her, they form a circle around me.
There goes any hope of escape.
I’ve got about four feet separating me from the fae. Far enough that I don’t start freaking out about how they’re all within touching distance, but still close. Too close.
I’m screwed, aren’t I?
“Come now. We can’t discuss matters out in the garden. Let’s go into my palace. I know you’ve come all this way to force me from my throne, but I’ll extend an invitation inside all the same. Follow me.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shadow, please.” Her voice is still quiet, but soft it ain’t. Melisandre puts steel in the way she calls me Shadow. “That can wait until we’re inside. Now, you can follow me, or you can linger with my guards. Your choice.”
“Don’t touch me,” I snap. I shoot warning glances at five of the six guards. I can’t bring myself to even meet Rys’s golden stare when, first, I’d have to look at the ugly scar. “I don’t want any of you to touch me.”
“No need for that if you come with me indoors. Agree now and you’ll walk on your own.”
At another royal wave, all six guards draw their swords. They’re not metal because, well, obviously, but the blades look like they’ve been made of diamond, the way they glitter as they threaten.
She says I’ll walk on my own? She’s freaking right. When you’re staring at six points coming at you from all directions, you move.
The queen leads the way. Because I need something to focus on that, you know, isn’t the six sword-wielding guards surrounding me, I stare at the back of her dress. The gown fans out like a train, sliding over the weirdo grass, following her every sway. It doesn’t get stuck on anything. Doesn’t snag, even when we walk through the crystalline trees.
There’s something about it that’s familiar. If it wasn’t for the pale blue color, I would think it’s the same material as Nine’s coat.
I would think it’s shadows.
But that’s impossible. Melisandre is the Fae Queen, and she lords over the Seelie Court. So she’s a Light Fae, right? Blonde hair, pale eyes… all signs point to Seelie. What would a Light Fae be doing wearing a gown made of shadows?
That thought keeps me distracted through my march through the gardens. The second we pass under a marble arch and I’m facing a massive castle, it’s got all my attention.
Sucker’s huge.
I’ve never been to Disneyland. The Everetts tried to plan a trip once when they discovered I hadn’t, but I was a broody teen and I turned their gracious offer down. Still, I watch TV. I’ve seen pictures.
This looks like Sleeping Beauty’s castle. From the towers and the turrets, the stone facade, and the large glass windows, I feel like I’ve been thrown into a fairy tale. Faerie tale. Whatever.
This is the Fae Queen’s palace?
And here comes Riley Thorne, fresh off of sleeping in the sewer and squatting in an abandoned, empty house.
Yeah. Magical, powerful ruler of the fae versus a half-human, half-fae whose claim to fame is that she can turn the shadows into a blanket and hop through them from one mess to another. What a fair fight.
Did I say I was screwed?
I’m totally fucked.
I recognize this room.
I’ve lost track of where she’s brought me. After she’s marched me under an arch, over a bridge, through an open doorway, then past room after room, I understand that she’s doing this on purpose. Melisandre is being careful to keep me disoriented; even if I managed to slip away from her armed guards, I’d never find my way out. Plus, she’s proving that she’s the one in control. Like a puppy, I’ll follow her wherever she leads, not because I want to, but because I prefer not to become a Riley-kebab.
But this room?
I recognize it right away.
The stairs that lead to nowhere. The ornately carved banister that looks like its made from glass. Blindingly white walls, and the door with its crystal knob.
This is the room I saw in my dream.
As she leads the way into the last room, taking her seat on a throne that looks like it’s made of—what else?—crystal, I finally find the balls to say something.
This suspicion isn’t new. A couple of times before now, I wondered if maybe… but I always found a reason to say no. That it couldn’t be. That, despite the trouble I’ve been in, even my luck’s not that shitty.
I can’t deny it any longer, though. Moving through that familiar room, reliving the vision I had where I overheard Carolina plotting to betray me, I finally have to accept the truth.
“You… you’re Carolina’s mistress.”
“I’ve answered to so many names over my life. Oberon’s consort. Queen of the Seelie. The Fae Queen. Melisandre. Yet the mistress of a human… it’s interesting that that’s the one you chose to use.”
Interesting nothing.
As soon as she confirms it, I can’t help but think of how often Carolina bitterly cursed the fae in control of her life. And how she kept pushing me to follow the prophecy, to do whatever I had to to end the Fae Queen. She made it seem like her mistress would free her once the queen was dead.
No. If the Shadow ended the Fae Queen, then Carolina would’ve been freed from the bargain she made with Melisandre.
Only the queen’s still standing. And Lina—
“She’s dead,” I tell her. “You let her die.”
A heartless shrug shouldn’t be so beautiful. “She did it to herself. I expect unwavering loyalty from my pets. Silly girl. She tried to save you, you know. She should’ve known better than to betray me.”
“Betray you? She never betrayed you.” No. Considering she died without admitting the identity of her mistress, even going so far as to convince me that she was a Dark Fae, Carolina protected Melisandre.
She doesn’t see it that way.
“But she did, Shadow. She knew so few of our secrets, yet she couldn’t keep them. Like iron. Like the charm she has you wearing.” Waving at my chest, she orders, “Take off the necklace.”
And throw away the only protection I have?
I gulp, suddenly fearful again, then shake my head. I don’t even care that she knows I’m wearing it when it’s tucked beneath my shirt. Doesn’t matter. I’m not about to take it off.
Melisandre’s lips curve.
“Rysdan,” she calls out. “Remove the Shadow’s necklace. If you have to take her head to do so, so be it. I thought the halfling might want to bargain with me. It seems as if she’d rather throw her life away. Suits me just fine.”
I don’t know what hits me harder: her casual threat or the way she calls Rys by a different name. Rysdan… is that his fae name? Like how Nine’s is Ninetroir? If the Fae Queen invokes it, will he be compelled to do what she says? I mean, she is the Fae Queen, the head of the Seelie Court, and he’s one of her soldiers. Hell, if magic won’t compel him, duty might.
Or, I realize as Rys takes a step out of formation, will the Light Fae come at me with his sword because I’m the one who destroyed his perfect, perfect face?
I’ve got no choice. Decapitation or capitulation? Yeah. No contest.
Holding out my hand, warding him off, I stammer out, “I… I’ll take it off.”
For the second time that I catch, Melisandre’s gaze flickers over the leather stretched over my hand. I hate that she seems interested in my glove. What if she commands me to take that off next?
The iron nail is one thing. I won’t take off my gloves. I won’t.
“Toss it to the ground,” Melisandre orders. “I’ll have one of my pets retrieve it later. I wouldn’t want to risk it harming any of my loyal guards.”
Ouch. Nice way to r
emind me that I used iron against Rys—and that he’s standing at her side, not mine.
Keeping my eyes on the queen, I dip my hand beneath my hoodie, pulling out the leather strap. I lift it up and over my head, then toss it to the ground like she told me to. For good measure, I nudge the iron nail away with the tip of my sneaker so that I’m not tempted to grab it again.
Melisandre purses her lips in open approval at how easily I gave in, then folds her hands in front of her belly. Prim and proper, not the least bit murderous.
Yeah. Right.
“Tell me, Shadow. Is there anything else you shouldn’t be carrying into my realm, you tricky girl?”
Since I don’t want to risk her ordering Rys to come at me with his sword again, I think about it. Is there?
I have Carolina’s baggie of money in one pocket, plus the scrap of paper I found near her cold hand. That’s it. I’ll need one if I manage to get out of this mess I’m in, and I refuse to part with Carolina’s note before I get the chance to read it.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Pretty sure. “Yes.”
“Then what’s in your pocket?”
“Nothing.”
“Prove it.” Her eyes seem to grow darker. They’re… they’re not so yellow anymore. More of a muddy gray, like storm clouds. Fitting, considering the way her expression looks thunderous all of a sudden. “Empty them.”
I do.
I slip both hands into my hoodie pocket first since I doubt she’s worried about the scrap of paper in my jeans. I pull out Carolina’s extra cash in one hand. In the other, I have the piece of fabric that Nine was adamant that I keep with me.
Melisandre straightens in her throne, fingers gripping the edge of the arms. “You dare gather shadows in front of me when I’m being so generous?”
“I’m not doing anything,” I protest. “It’s not even a shadow. It’s like a silk scarf or something.”
“Is that what he told you?”
He? How does she know it’s from Nine?
She points at me. She’s so angry, she doesn’t even name any particular guard. “Take it from her.”
Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2) Page 19