Killian moves toward the window, followed by Pax – dressed but still strapping his short sword to his belt. Their gazes settle on the estate beyond our realm. Martin’s holding. Tension rustles through both of them. Pax gripping the hilt of his sword in white knuckles – hadn’t he realized how close we are?
I look at the distant building through new eyes. Killian’s – calculating, and Pax’s – territorial.
“Eydis has a view of the mortal’s estate,” Pax says, his gritted teeth drawing the sentence out long and slow. “She has clothes down there that are Beautiful’s size.”
“And this,” I say, holding the folded letter out to him.
Pax takes it.
“She’s more Silvari than we think,” I continue. “I was too busy telling you what the mortal mage said, so I hadn’t properly explained this to you.”
“Explain what?” Seth asks, bounding up the stairs.
Kitten walks in last. Wearing a deep blue Silvari shirt that is tight across the middle, too tight across the bust, and gentle down the arms. Coupled with black linen pants that taper to leather ankles. The garment has been tailored – fits perfectly. Clothes from Eydis’ wall – clothes made to fight in.
I glance back toward the estate out in the storm. On a hook, hidden among papers with curling corners that were nailed to the wall a few hundred years ago, is a spyglass. Killian spots it, pulls it down, snaps it open, then holds it out to Pax.
Pax snatches it up. His breathing slows, measured, as he studies the estate. I’m ready for him to turn and tear out of here, for the desire to rip the whole manor apart and the lord with it to take over. But this new sigil controls it all.
Kitten dashes between us, snatching the glass from Pax. She leaps onto the window seat. Pax and Killian both grab her by the waistband, steadying her with one arm each. Her sleeves fall back, displaying the splint and reminding us all how breakable she is. Going through the window is not an option.
“What do you see?” I ask, my voice softer than Killian or Pax’s would be, maybe even Seth’s.
“Nothing,” she says, her shoulders relaxing. “Nothing.”
Nothing? This is the first time she’s looked at it in the daylight, and the first time she’s had a clear, magnified view. She has to see something.
She steps backwards off the seat, held in mid-air for a split second before Pax and Killian lower her. Then she holds the glass out, and I wrap my fingers around it.
The metal casing is as cold as ice, and the Silvari glass at either end is impossible to see through, completely frosted over. She’s right, nothing. It’s almost like there’s a hundred tiny cracks in the glass. I check it twice, looking, then looking again, then turning it to look from the other side, while Kitten examines the room.
“You guys really know how to make a space feel tiny.”
But the glass is unusable – and it sure wasn’t when Pax looked ready to tear the manor to pieces just moments ago.
Goosebumps trace across her skin, and Pax pulls her back into his arms, but his gaze is on me – because we have things we need to talk about. There’s conflict in his expression, his brow drawn, his nose a little bad-smell scrunched, before he relents to whatever battle he was fighting on the inside – or with Thane.
Not the time to bring up the glass, so I file it in my growing list of stuff-I’m-desperate-to-understand. If ever I get a chance.
“Seth, get her warm,” he says, passing Kitten across to the bouncing ball of Chaos.
Pax’s nose wrinkles.
“And the clothes, I know,” Seth says, grabbing Kitten by the shoulders and steering her towards the stairs.
“Wait, I get a say in where I’m going. You can’t just man-handle me around,” she says.
“Yes, we can,” all four of us respond.
“I’m going to find a way to woman-handle you lot,” she grumbles as Seth drags her down the stairs.
I groan. Please, yes, do it, my insides are pleading… That’s not the right thing to say to any of us, Kitten. I take two involuntary steps after her before Pax puts a hand on my chest, and Thane growls at me.
Then she’s down the stairs and out of earshot.
Pax waves the letter in the air, and I regain the brain power to step back. “Two hundred and seventy?”
I nod.
“Who’s her father?”
I shake my head, scratching at the back of my neck. How would I know?
Killian snatches the letter from Pax, his expression impossible to read as he scans over it, saying, “This is impossible.”
“The simple things are usually the ones that go wrong,” I mumble. Honestly, what do they want me to say?
“Explain,” Pax growls.
“It’s the 50-50-90 rule. Anytime there’s an equal chance between two options – 50-50 – there’s a proportionally higher chance, nearer the 90 percent, that things will go wrong.”
It’s a fact – that only people who spend time reading facts will appreciate. Killian is not one of them, so the big man just growls. Which makes me very happy – though I’m careful to keep that emotion locked under enough Allure that he won’t pick up the scent. He once told me that my power smells like jasmine, and I figured out long ago that if I flood myself with Allure, it masks some of the other emotions I’m feeling. Doesn’t work with the strong ones, though. Fear – especially. Lust – even more so.
“If her mother is a mortal, and her father is a Saber, she’s 50-50. But it’s not that easy. A 50-50 ShimmerSeed and FireSeed is called a Flicker – and they’re downright dangerous. A 50-50 StrengthSeed and FaunaSeed is called a Silvari – normal and seedless. There’s never been a child of a DeathSeed and a FireSeed – but there’s a 90% chance that it would go very wrong.”
And both of them look at me like I’m about to be strangled to death.
I take a deep breath and try again. “Whatever her father was, she might have inherited some power from him, but I don’t know what that is. It’s not impossible, it’s just not probable. Which doesn’t matter because it’s somehow locked down or cut off, and that’s not even important, because her bubble and its effects are exponentially more critical right now.”
Killian is growling again.
Pax’s eyes glow, but the guy doesn’t move, so I wave my hand in front of his face, pushing a few of his buttons to see how this sigil factors in.
“Ah.” I exhale. “So that’s how it works.”
He growls and I lower my hand, but it’s still a few more moments before he unlocks his jaw to talk. “Could it be the bubble and not something Eydis did? Could that be what’s blocking her from properly accessing the world?”
I shake my head at him. “We should ask Shade if she had any kind of Saber power before she was trapped in the bubble.”
“Downstairs,” Killian rumbles. “Seth hasn’t got her warm yet.”
No, Seth hasn’t; he’s become distracted with much more interesting activities.
Twelve Paces
Seth guides me down the stairs.
Away from the guys having a private conversation in Eydis’ attic. Away from the window. Away from the estate. I’m not sure looking through that glass was a good idea. Seeing the details – putting them back into my mind.
The pole is still there – broken, but there.
The chain still hanging from the top of it.
I lived with the thing every day. Tended the garden beside it. Rested in the shade on the wall beneath it to catch my breath when Alfie, the little bugger, made me chase him.
Every. Chuckin’. Day.
But seeing it just this once has left a hard, knotted feeling inside of me.
Is it that easy to forget? Like a dog forgetting its master’s orders and relearning the hard way.
Seth pauses as soon as we’re out of sight. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to hear what the others are saying. All I can hear is muttering, but these guys have better hearing than me. And because he’s paused, I’m paused. Stuck.
<
br /> I adjust the clothing strewn along the banister. It makes me a little nervous having their gear everywhere when they’re usually packed and ready to run. Run from the Sabers chasing us, the Crown, the chuckin’ end of the world in a massive magically-induced forest fire.
Life went from one scary situation to another when I left Lord Martin’s estate.
I physically have to glance at my wrist to remind myself that it’s not the same kind of captivity. But there’s a growing feeling inside me that safety is impossible and that survival is a dart falling too fast to ever hit the board.
“Vexy,” Seth says, stepping in close.
His chest to my back and the banister in front of me – the two of us standing on the same step. Then he cups his hand around mine – the one I’m holding up in fearful inspection of chains that no one else can see.
“I can’t feel your emotions,” he says. “You have to talk to me.”
I swallow and shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
His other arm slips around my middle – he’s hugging me, and it feels so good. Seth is confidence, and the man pausing to explore my complete lack of confidence feels beautiful in a way I can’t quite find words for.
“You don’t understand,” I manage.
“If I can understand ladies’ undergarments, the smell of week-old tacos, and Pax’s unnatural love of pie – there’s a chance I can understand whatever is worrying you.”
“Do you understand captivity?”
He lets out a long, slow exhale. “I had twenty coins on you lasting from the first day of your bubble until the new moon before crumpling. But, in my defense, your bubble wasn’t shrinking at that time.”
“What?” I demand.
“That would have been eleven days, from the day we were in the potions lab.”
I turn in his arms so I can face him, and while he lets me turn, he doesn’t back up or give me any space. So we’re still hugging and now also arguing.
“You put a bet down on my misery?”
He takes a quick breath and furrows his brow like it wasn’t what he was expecting, but he keeps talking as if none of it is worth his attention. Typical Seth.
“Only with Roarke, and not on your misery – on your strength,” he says.
“Strength?” I ask.
He nods, those deep blue eyes of his pulling me in, easing the tension inside me in a way only Seth can.
“You are one of the strongest people I know,” he says. “And that would be the complete truth whether you crumbled today or last week.”
I wrap my arms around him, falling into the hug I had been resisting, and rest my head against his chest.
He’s not telling me it’s all okay, or that I’m wrong for feeling this way, or that I need to just suck it up. He’s telling me that I can exist in this moment, as horrible and undesirable as it is. I can exist.
And I really like existing.
“What if I can’t stay strong?”
“That’s okay, you have the four of us to hold you up, and I’ve been putting aside some of my strength for a while now – just in case you need it.” As he talks, he hooks his finger under my chin and tilts my head back.
His lips brush over mine, so soft at first – then maybe he falls into the moment, maybe it’s me rising up on the balls of my feet, but our soft kiss soon turns to deep passion.
I have to survive this bubble because I can’t lose this.
I can’t lose these guys.
Suddenly, Seth breaks away and half-carries, half-pushes me downstairs, his brothers close behind us. As soon as we’re in the living space, he lets go, and I stagger back until he catches my shoulders and steadies me. He’s bloody beaming, like nearly knocking me on the floor is a compliment. I’m a little too out of breath to set him straight – understatement.
I bite my lip in an effort to find some focus as we fan out in the sitting room, which luckily is bigger than the upstairs space. This house is built in tiers, each one slightly offsetting the one above.
Roarke kneels beside the hearth and sets to work bringing the small fireplace to life. Either Seth or Killian, I don’t see which, tosses the blanket from the back of the couch, and Pax wraps the thing around my shoulders.
“Plan?” Pax asks, looking down at Roarke.
Seth moves through everyone and into the kitchen, saying, “Get drunk,” as he opens doors and drawers.
I cross the room and kneel in the middle of the couch, so I can watch them over the back of it. Most of them are in the space between the stairs and the seats. The kitchen is tucked back to the left, front door to the right, and the fireplace and stairs in between.
“I think I managed a reversal for the Rearrange Potion during the night, but without simultaneously reversing Logan’s potion, all we’re going to do is put his efforts to right, and I will need water from the Spring for that.”
“Roarke, man, in words I understand,” Seth groans. “The woman doesn’t even have any wine.”
“Why not?” Killian asks.
“Focus,” Pax says, passing a piece of cut wood from the crate into Roarke’s hands.
The AlphaSeed gives me another sideways glance. Which Seth mirrors, then lifts his chin and gives the air a little sniff before looking back to Roarke. Both of them look agitated by me. Like I smell bad.
Which I probably do, because I’m wearing Eydis’ clothes. Well, that explains a few things. Doesn’t change my mind, though. Just to check, I run my palms down the stomach of my shirt. Soft and warm and clean and perfectly cut. I like wearing the guys’ clothes, I really do, but I also like wearing these.
Killian is standing closest to me, and his nostrils flare for just an instant before he sets his gaze on me, but it’s Roarke who starts talking, “If we undo Seth’s potion, we will put Logan’s firmly in place. Shade’s bubble will morph into walls for all of us. None of us will be able to reach each other. Which includes our tetrad abilities.”
“Pentad,” Pax rumbles.
“Right. Kitten, we need to work out if Logan’s potion is what’s blocking any remnant of a Seed you might have. It’s short-circuiting some of our magic – it could be doing that to you too.”
“That’s an easy one. There was nothing Saber about me before I met you guys. Mortal from sunrise to sunset.”
Killian makes an agreeing sound.
“See, Killian knows,” I say.
A small smile sneaks onto the always-cranky Darkness guys lips, that he wipes away as he rubs at his nose. I get it, I smell, but this is becoming entertaining.
“Could she be accessing you the same way I do?” Seth asks.
My eyes go wide, images of Seth doing all the things I want to do with Roarke flashing before my mind. ‘You think your brother’s hot too?’ is about to tumble off my lips, but Killian cuts me off with a sudden explosive laugh. Full, loud, and happy-as-bralls.
The world chuckin’ stops. I’m lost for words. All of us are just staring at the big, grumpy man.
“You,” Killian says, waving a hand towards me, but needing another breath to get himself under control before continuing. “Funny.”
That’s it. He doesn’t add why.
Each one of my guys turns towards me for the answers.
Chuck no. I smile at Seth and deliberately choose to keep this one to myself. Which involves deliberately changing the subject, “What do you mean, accessing?”
“Wait, what was that about?” Pax insists.
“Yes, Vexy, what was that about?” Seth asks, his best impression of being Alluring in his tone, but his brow is creased in a promise of mischief.
“I don’t understand what you mean by access?” I repeat, my lips struggling to pull into a neutral line.
Relax my cheeks. Relax my cheeks. I can stop myself from smiling if I relax my cheeks.
“Explain,” Pax says, raising his voice a little.
Damn, Mr. Must-be-in-control just entered the room. I shrug. “Ask Killian. I didn’t do anything.”
> “Relax, brother,” Seth says. “I’m pretty sure it was a joke at my expense.”
Pax pulls his gaze from me, the intense depths of his presence shifting back to Roarke, and a cold shiver settles over my skin.
“Keep going,” Pax says.
Roarke scrunches his nose against a whiff of possibly me, then snaps another piece of kindling in half.
“Right,” he begins, but that’s about all I hear before Killian steps up next to the couch, leaning on one elbow and stealing all my attention.
“I like your kind of funny,” he mutters.
“Shhh,” I hiss. “Commander Pax is pissed off.”
“Only because you stink.”
“I know. I bet you a week’s worth of doing the dishes that Roarke works it out first,” I whisper.
“Pax,” is all Killian says, nodding at the man who currently has his back to us as he listens to what Roarke has to say.
“In our, ah, group, all four of us can use Killian’s strength,” Roarke continues, ignoring the little side conversation I’m having with Killian. “My speed. Pax’s smell, and his blasts if we’re together. Seth’s… what do you bring to this group, Seth?”
Killian grunt-chuckles.
“Wait, so I’m only strong because of him?” Seth asks, pointing at Killian. He doesn’t wait for confirmation though. “There’s your answer, Vexy. No, not all Sabers have metal-crushing strength, just Killian and people who have lived with him for too long.”
“When did I ask that?”
“When I freed your law-breaking ass from the stocks,” he says, giving me just enough time to pull an ‘oh’ face before continuing. “I make you smile – that’s my contribution to the group. Just admit it. You’re all sour old ladies without me.”
Roarke lifts the collar of his shirt up over his nose, then his brow furrows with realization. “Kitten, I’m sorry, but you really do stink.”
Shadows and Shade Box Set Page 78