I’d watched several quakes hit through the mirror. I still wasn’t prepared to be in the middle of one.
My legs went out from under me at the first jolting roll of the ground. Only Falin’s arms around me kept me from face-planting onto the shadowy floor. He jerked me forward, further into the protection of his body, but I heard him grunt in pain as that movement slammed me against his chest. He guided me to my knees without ever letting go, following me down in a controlled movement despite the way the ground rumbled. My stomach clenched tight, my eyes squeezing closed as I buried my face against Falin, trying not to grab him too tight. He just held on to me.
The noise from the quakes had been bad through the mirror. It was deafening actually being in the middle of it. The room we were in resembled a gigantic gothic cathedral, with gray stone, flying buttresses, and alcoves devoured by shadows. While the ground rolled and jolted, not so much as dust fell from the ceiling and walls, but in the distance it sounded like mountains were cracking apart and crashing down. Somewhere, Faerie was tearing herself apart, stone by stone. The ever-present distant music took on the sound of a wail instead of a song.
With my eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the awful noise and rocking to stop, I realized something else as well. The wrongness I’d felt in the bubble of Faerie, the fraying as the threads unraveled, I felt it here as well.
That realization made my head snap up and I scanned the room, searching for the disturbance in the layers of reality. I couldn’t spot any single source. Not like in the bubble in my father’s house, where it was clearly the edges dissolving. And the wrongness I was feeling wasn’t quite the same either, but it was all around me, in every thread of reality, as if everything that made Faerie was straining, close to snapping.
Shit. If Faerie broke . . .
The noise slowly quieted as the ground stopped lurching and stilled. Falin didn’t release me, and I realized I’d more or less ended up in his lap during the quake, his body curled around me like a shield. His breath was jagged where it puffed through my hair, and I didn’t think that had anything to do with the quake, not directly at least.
“How badly are you injured?” I whispered, my words so quiet I wasn’t confident he’d be able to hear.
“I’ll be fine.”
I twisted my neck so I could look up at him. The fine lines betraying pain were evident around his eyes again, and while he held me tight, I could feel the smallest tremble in his fingers. He’d said he would be fine. Not that he was now. Tricky fae wording going on there. I frowned, but I didn’t press him further. When we were alone, I’d have him drop his glamour so I could see how badly he was injured. I could open my shields and check for myself but even though I’d be doing it out of concern, it would be wrong, a violation. I typically didn’t think twice about piercing glamour, but I’d checked wounds Falin hid before, and he’d equated it to removing his clothes without consent.
I extracted myself from Falin’s lap, trying not to aggravate wounds I couldn’t see. He didn’t let me go far, though, his gloved hand locking around mine, tethering me. I didn’t resist the contact. After everything in the last two days, if I was honest with myself, I liked the reassurance that he was near.
Glancing around, I took stock of the room. Dugan watched us, his expression so blank he had to be making an effort to keep his face empty. The Shadow King was a few feet away, still kneeling beside the small figure of the planebender. The boy no longer looked unconscious at least. He had curled into a ball on the floor, his hands over his head and his thin knees visible through the dark folds of his cloak where he’d pulled them tight against his chest. I couldn’t hear exactly what the king was saying, but the tone was gentle, soothing, trying to calm the frightened boy.
“Okay, I know I said we should talk in person, but it might have been a good idea to meet in the mortal realm, instead of Faerie where the ground quakes every few minutes,” I said, my legs so shaky that I wasn’t sure if the ground was still trembling or if it was just me.
“We were not about to risk getting stuck on that side,” the king said as he helped the planebender sit upright. “And I’m not sure he could have fashioned a second door with how damaged Faerie is. You might have noticed that we barely got you here.”
“Wait, what? Stuck?” I glanced from the king to Falin, who didn’t meet my eyes. “Are you saying I’m stuck on this side? I can’t be stuck. I came to negotiate a door for the fading independents and all the other stranded fae.” And apparently there were a lot more of them than I’d known when I had made that plan, as more doors had been blown.
“Faerie is too unstable,” the king said. “The boy barely succeeded in opening the rift we pulled you through, and it laid him out cold to do it. How would he possibly hold a door large and long enough to evacuate thousands of fae? No. Faerie is intentionally locking down all access to the mortal realm. There will be no more doors. Not by him at least. Not until he has had time to recover.”
I wanted to argue, to point out how little time we had left before that final pocket of Faerie vanished forever. But I’d seen the planebender unconscious on the ground. He was a changeling, and I’d never actually seen his face, but he seemed so young, like an adolescent. The door Dugan had dragged me through had been open mere moments. How long would it take to evacuate all the fae in Nekros, I wasn’t sure, but it would definitely be too much for him.
“What are my other options for an evacuation door?” Because there had always been temporary doors between Faerie and the mortal realm. They tended to be more chaotic, or perhaps simply more costly. I’d opened one such door once, utilizing overlapping shadows in both realms to merge the space between them. The door had gotten us where we needed to reach in time, but it also released living nightmares on the entire population. I had no idea how to find such an overlapping point in the realms on my own, though, especially now that Faerie had lost most of its connections to the mortal realm. Legends spoke of other doorways, though the cost for those was usually paid by losing years of your life, by sacrificial deaths, or by some other extreme payment.
“With Faerie in its present state, no door is likely to work between here and the mortal realm. Now we need to move before the interior doors of Faerie start locking as well.” The king turned away from me to focus on the planebender again, who had made it to a sitting position earlier, but was now braced on all fours. “Can you walk, or should I carry you?”
“I’ll walk. Help me stand.” The planebender lifted his hand toward the king, the tremble in it apparent even from where I stood several yards away. The rift he’d opened for me truly had hurt him. No wonder he hadn’t left it open a second longer than necessary.
I stepped closer to Falin, lowering my voice as Nandin grasped the planebender’s outstretched hand.
“Why didn’t you warn me that they planned to drag me through that door?” Because it was obvious that had been the plan, right from the beginning. I’d wondered who the king had kept looking at beyond the mirror, who he’d been speaking to. He’d had the planebender working on the door from the moment I’d walked into the pocket of Faerie in my father’s house.
Falin grimaced, and there was a lot to unravel in his expression. Some regret, perhaps, but mostly resolve. I was reminded of Dugan’s words when he’d pulled me across, that he wouldn’t apologize for dragging me from a realm where I couldn’t safely exist. I saw that same sentiment in Falin’s face. He’d known what the plan was, and he’d agreed to it even though he’d known I wouldn’t have. Which also explained the cautious expression I’d seen on him in the mirror, versus his much more enthusiastic greeting once I was in Faerie. He’d known I’d be pissed, but he hadn’t wanted to warn me and risk me not making it to Faerie.
After a moment, he lifted one shoulder. “The window to get you here was narrow. The pocket in the mortal realm is dissolving, Faerie itself is growing more unstable, and then there is the fact
that the bender is a shadow changeling, his ability most powerful inside his own court, and we can’t stay here. I made a bargain to ensure you were pulled across, though I think they would have retrieved you regardless.” He pulled me closer, in a tight hug that I suspected hurt his injuries but which he did anyway, as if he needed more contact, more reassurance I was really there. “When you were taken . . . I couldn’t reach you. I tried to renegotiate for another door, so that I could find you, but Nandin would not budge. He feared his bender would be able to create only one door, and he’d risk him only to retrieve you, not to strand a king on the other side.”
I glanced at the planebender in question. It had been a risk, the boy dangerously drained from the effort. The king hauled him to his feet and he swayed for a moment, Nandin’s hands on his shoulders helping to keep him upright. After a moment, the changeling seemed to steady. He nodded to his king and Nandin dropped his hands, slow, like he was ready to catch him if the boy was not quite as secure on his feet as he thought.
“We need to go now,” Nandin said, still watching the planebender as if he was considering picking him up anyway and not risk him walking. “We are too close to the chasm.”
Dugan nodded, turning to stride toward the deepest shadows in the room. Falin released me from his tight hug, taking my hand as he turned to follow Dugan. I wasn’t going to protest leaving, but I still had so many questions, so I hesitated, my gaze on Nandin and the planebender.
The boy took one uncertain step. On his second step he pitched forward. He would have hit the ground had Nandin not caught him, holding him upright. The sudden motion dislodged the boy’s hood, which I’d never seen off before.
Dirty blond hair, not dissimilar to my own, fell into his face, and green eyes went wide with surprise. His hand flew up, grabbing the hood of his cloak, tugging it upward in a frantic motion, his face a mix of shock and horror. He jerked the hood back over his head; the shadows, which were part of a spell, obscured his features again. But it was too late. I’d already seen his face.
“Not possible,” I whispered. Because I couldn’t have seen what I’d thought. Who I’d thought. I stared at the planebender, short compared to me, body unfinished in that way of an adolescent stuck between childhood and teen years. The initial shock of surprise that had slammed into me gave way to a sharper emotion, hotter and angry. I dropped my mental shields, piercing the planes around me as I gazed through them. The shadows under the hood were partly glamour, but the hood itself was real, and without decay in Faerie, it didn’t disintegrate so that I could see his face under it. I glared at him. I’d had enough deception and betrayal for one day. I wasn’t going to blindly accept more. “Drop your hood.”
Falin, who had not been looking at the planebender when he fell, but waiting for me to follow Dugan, turned. His gaze swept over me, no doubt noting everything from my now-glowing eyes to the fact that my hand trembled in his, and then he whirled to face the king. He didn’t go for a weapon, but his stance changed, turning defensive and ready for danger.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“The planebender is glamoured, and I don’t know why.” The words were a hiss because I didn’t have any air, couldn’t seem to draw any. I’d had too many shocks today, but this one . . .
“My dear, we do not have time for this,” Nandin said, stepping in front of the boy. “We need to move.”
I just stared at him, my brain spinning, trying to puzzle out all the reasons the Shadow King might want me to believe the planebender was someone I knew. The fall, the cloak slipping, it had looked so accidental, the boy terrified that he’d been revealed. But fae were master manipulators. Did Nandin think his convincing me that I knew his pet changeling would gain extra loyalty from me? Make some favor he planned to request be more agreeable to me?
“Take off the hood,” I said again.
Nandin met my gaze, his stern and cold, ready to refuse. But then a small hand wrapped around his wrist. A frown tugged at the king’s mouth as he looked down at the planebender. “We do not have time for this,” the king said again.
From the movement of the cloak, it appeared that the planebender shrugged. Then he reached up and tugged back his hood. The face below was achingly familiar, even though I hadn’t seen it in over a decade. And it didn’t change despite the fact that I was peering across planes. It wasn’t glamour. Which meant . . .
“That’s not possible,” I said, sinking to my knees as I stared at a face I’d never thought I would see again.
“Alex?” Falin made my name a question. He still looked like he was unsure if he should be going for a weapon, but seemed to be leaning against it at this point.
Which was good. I didn’t want him to attack my older brother.
Chapter 25
Brad?” My older brother’s name was more of a gasp than a question.
He gave me a sheepish look and scratched the back of his head as he said, “Hey, Allie.”
Allie. I hadn’t heard that nickname in years. My mom had called me that, but she’d died when I was five. After that, much to my father’s chagrin, my older brother had picked up the habit. But then he’d vanished when I was eleven and the nickname had disappeared with him.
But now here it was. As was my brother.
“You still look twelve,” I said, which was probably a stupid comment, but shock was making my brain a bit hard to navigate.
“I am a couple centuries past twelve,” he said, curling his nose in the way he always had when we were children and I’d say something he disagreed with.
I stared at him, still not quite believing what my eyes were telling me. But it wasn’t just his face; he had my brother’s mannerisms, his nickname for me. Everything pointed to the boy in front of me truly being my lost brother.
“How is this possible?” I asked, the question not directed at anyone in particular. Then my gaze narrowed on Brad again. “Have you been in the shadow court this entire time? Why didn’t you contact me? I thought you were dead! Hell, I’ve been in the same room with you a half dozen times over the last six months. Why didn’t you ever tell me? At least to let me know you were alive and all right?” My questions grew in volume as I spoke, so that by the time I reached the last one, it was delivered in a squeaky yell.
Brad grimaced, the expression shockingly adult on his young face. He opened his mouth to answer, but Nandin once again stepped in front of him.
“As charming as this awkward family reunion is, we simply do not have the time to waste. We need to get moving before—”
The sudden rumble and roar of another earthquake hitting Faerie filled the air, cutting off the king’s words. He cursed, turning to the changeling beside him, but the boy had hit the ground at the first hint of this newest quake.
I was already on my knees, but careened sideways with the jolting floor. I was pretty sure I should just stay there on the ground, riding out the movement, but Falin knelt beside me, gathering me to him. I clung to him as Faerie shook, but my mind wasn’t on the chaos around me. It was focused on the chaos inside me.
Every encounter I’d had with the planebender played out behind my squeezed-shut eyes. The first time I’d seen him, he’d helped Nandin pluck me out of the winter court, but the rescue had left me a guest who couldn’t leave, aka a prisoner in a very pretty cage. He’d seemed like he’d wanted to tell me something that night, but the harpies who’d been escorting me had reminded him that he’d been forbidden from talking to me. Had he wanted to reveal his identity? Why would the king prevent him? Nandin himself had enthusiastically touted his own distant relation to me—wouldn’t he have believed reuniting me with my brother would have earned him bigger points? Or did he fear that discovering my brother was a changeling bound to his court would piss me off? Can’t say he was wrong about that.
Brad had been there when I’d met Dugan for the first time. He’d opened a hole from shadow to t
he pocket of Faerie in my father’s mansion. Did our father know? It seemed impossible he didn’t, and yet it would have been cruel of him to know and never tell me. Of course, my father wasn’t exactly known for his kindness or his transparency. I’d seen the planebender a few other times too. I’d even noted that his voice sounded familiar when I’d first heard it, but at the time I had been concentrating more on the fact that Nandin was dying from a magical wasting disease, as was I. I’d never thought any harder about the familiarity of his voice, or tried to place it. Not that I would have come up with my missing brother as a possible match. I’d always believed Brad was still alive, still out there somewhere, but I’d assumed he would be in his midtwenties now. Not a changeling stuck in a twelve-year-old’s body.
Faerie ceased her rumbling and lurching before my thoughts settled. My hands trembled, the adrenaline flooding my body making me shake even though Faerie had stopped. Falin drew me up to my feet with him as he rose. The initial surprise had passed and I felt strangely numb, my thoughts slowing, as if my brain had turned off instead of dealing with any more new information. I just stared mutely at Brad, who hadn’t made it back to his feet yet, despite the Shadow King’s urgings.
“Did you say Brad?” Falin asked, leaning in close as he helped me to my feet.
I nodded absently before saying, “What chasm was Nandin talking about?” My voice sounded odd in my ears, too far away and too empty.
Falin frowned at me, concern flickering in his gaze. Nandin took the segue easily, though.
“The chasm that was created when the realm of dreams was severed from my lands. In Faerie’s current volatile state, that chasm is growing.” He walked as he spoke, dragging Brad behind him.
Dugan had reached the far end of the room already, and he scowled as he waited for us to catch up, though his expression didn’t seem to be targeting anyone in the room. The king crossed the space quickly, Brad having to jog to keep up. Falin gave my hand a squeeze as he turned to follow. I trudged beside him, though our progress was slow, maybe because my legs felt like they’d been tied down with lead weights.
Grave War (An Alex Craft Novel) Page 27