by K. J. Sutton
A moment later, I felt Collith grasp my wrists and tug at them. That ridged chest was a breath away from my face, and I gave in to the urge to lean forward and kiss it. Collith made a sound in his throat, deep and interested, and tilted my face toward his.
“Wait, morning breath—” I started to protest. Collith kissed me with a mouth that was thorough and patient. I forgot to be embarrassed or self-conscious. He pulled away to put those lips on my jaw, my collarbone, the inside of my elbow and my wrist, then each of my upturned fingertips. Goosebumps rose along my skin and I was already aching for him again.
“Tempted as I am to finish this,” Collith murmured, his lips moving against me, “don’t you have to work soon?”
I was distracted by his zipper and didn’t answer. I’d started to drag it down when Collith retreated. The zipper slipped from my grasp. I tried to pull him back, but Collith was reaching for something on the nightstand. “I can be late,” I argued. “Angela will be so unhappy if she doesn’t have something to complain about all day.”
Ignoring this, Collith pressed a coffee mug into my hands. “I like Bea. I don’t want her to be short a staff member.”
“You made me coffee,” I said stupidly, staring down into the mug. There was a strange feeling in my stomach, as though something had been torn up by the roots to make room for something new. Liquid sloshed precariously against the sides, and I sat up to avoid spilling it over the bedspread.
“With enough cream to make me vomit,” Collith agreed, perching on the edge of the mattress.
I took a drink, savored it for a moment, then smiled. “He can make a perfect cup of coffee, too. It’s a good thing I have excellent self-esteem, or I’d be feeling inadequate right now.”
“Sometimes the things you say…” He smiled and shook his head. “Besides the obvious reasons, I understand why Laurelis fell so hard for you. You’re a lot alike.”
I wasn’t smiling anymore. “Take that back. Right now.”
“It’s not entirely a bad thing, you know. I wouldn’t have fallen for him if he didn’t have some good qualities,” Collith said. It was the first time he’d talked about Laurie without darkness in his eyes, and in spite of how much it unnerved me, I was curious.
“Good qualities? Like what?”
In an absent movement, Collith brushed strands of my hair away from my neck. “Like… the way he throws himself into whatever he does. You could ask him to paint a bedroom, or go with you on a trip to Spain, and he’d be at your side every step of the way. Making his insufferable jokes and acting like it was the best time of his life.”
Collith smiled faintly, shaking his head, and something about the look in his eyes bothered me.
Time to change the subject.
“How bad is it?” I asked, thinking about the previous night. Collith gave me a questioning look. “The pain. I can call Bea and tell her what’s going on, if you don’t want to spend the day alone.”
Understanding filled his eyes. Collith shifted on the bed, frowning now. “My mother is at peace, Fortuna. I watched her fade, day by day, and we both knew this was coming. She prepared me for it, even when I refused to listen.”
He fell silent. Wishing I could take that pain away, I leaned forward and kissed him, soft and brief. He kissed me back. The taste of him lingered on my tongue as I pressed our foreheads together. After a moment, Collith took my coffee and put it on the nightstand. Once we were both laying down, he curled around me as if I was all that mattered. A heart behind ribs, the pit in a peach, the chorus in the middle of a song. I turned around and rested my forehead against his chest, pretending the clock behind us didn’t exist. We still had a little time, anyway.
“Collith?” I said softly, sounding uncertain, even to my own ears.
“Yes?”
I swallowed. “It always sounds inadequate, but I know that, for me, hearing the words did help sometimes. I’m sorry that you lost your mother. I’m so sorry.”
There was another beat of silence. Then Collith shifted both of us so that his body was resting on mine. He propped himself on his elbows, keeping his full weight off me, and searched my eyes. Whatever he found made his frown deepen.
“Fortuna,” Collith began. He paused, as if mulling over his words. I waited, suddenly tense. The sound of my name on his lips terrified me. There was something so raw in his voice, a hint of loss and want and a promise of more to come. Something was about to happen, something important about to be said, and I wasn’t sure I was prepared for it.
He pursed his lips, a determined glint in his eye. When he spoke, his voice was urgent, almost breathless, “Fortuna, I need to tell you something—”
There came the sound of nails clicking on the floor. Just as I sat up, Finn’s whine drifted through the door.
Something is wrong, my instincts whispered. I hurried to get dressed and open it. The werewolf stood in the hallway, looking more like a shadow than reality. But his eyes caught the light, which streamed from behind me, and put a spotlight on the worry lurking in those yellow depths.
Wearing only his boxer briefs, Collith had gone to the window. He held the curtain back with one hand, and sunlight streamed across his bare torso. “I believe Finn is concerned for Emma,” the faerie said.
That was all I needed to hear. Finn led me down the hallway and, once I’d donned a coat and boots, through the front door. I saw her immediately, looking smaller than usual, sitting on the porch steps. Emma’s thin arms were wrapped around her legs, and I spotted a joint between her fingers.
I creaked my way over to her and sank onto a step just below hers. She studied me for a moment, smiling the slightest of smiles, and turned her head to look toward the brightening horizon. The air smelled like marijuana. Finn sneezed as he went to lay at the other end of the porch.
“You’ve been getting high a lot lately,” I ventured, my voice soft and hesitant. Her grief was so powerful that I imagined I could feel it on the air.
“It’s just a way to feel better, sweet pea.” Sighing, Emma stretched her legs out. Bones audibly creaked and cracked. She fixed her gaze back on the sky and added, “I had a dream about Fred last night. It felt so real, but then I woke up and saw his side of the bed. I had to remember all over again—that wonderful man went and died on me.”
Guilt had me by the throat, and I knew no amount of therapy would alleviate it. I may not have been the one to end Fred’s life, but I’d certainly played a role in making it possible. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Emma said with a small, dismissive gesture. Her wrist looked so brittle that the movement should’ve broken it.
Swallowing, I scooted closer and rested my head on her shoulder. She was wearing pajamas and a thick coat that smelled like a campfire, so there was no danger of touching her skin. We didn’t say anything after that. There was no need to, really—Collith had cracked a window open and sounds drifted to us. Clattering dishes and voices blaring from his phone. I’d recently learned that the Unseelie King liked listening to podcasts and audiobooks, and the normalcy of this fact still threw me off guard.
The unfamiliar voices were the soundtrack to my and Emma’s shared pain. To our sad wordlessness. For a few minutes, we spoke in a language only people like us could learn. Soon, the day would begin, and we’d hold the pain back. For now, though, we let it take its course. Like falling asleep after a long day, or kicking off shoes that had been hurting for hours.
“Ready to face the day?” Emma asked me at last.
I took a breath. I’d learned that no one was ever ready, and if I waited for the feeling, all I’d ever do was waste time. And I’d already wasted so much of it.
“Ready,” I said.
My shift was a blur.
For the first time, I understood what people meant when they used the phrase walking on air. I smiled as I wrote down orders. I tried not to skip as I delivered plates to tables. It took effort not to hum as I printed off checks. Apparently joy was in
infectious, because it wasn’t long before Gretchen and Ariel were smiling, too. It was my first time working with Ariel since discovering the truth about her, but she acted no differently than she had as a supposed human, and her glamour was back in place. After a few hours I stopped thinking about it completely.
At the end of my shift, I didn’t even consider stopping at Adam’s for a training session; I was too eager to get back home. I knew I was acting like one of those ridiculous girls in a romance movie, but I didn’t care.
I broke the speed limit during the drive. It felt strange not to have Finn in the passenger seat, but now that Gwyn was gone and he knew I was protected at Bea’s, he’d relaxed somewhat in his self-imposed guard duties—somewhat being a relative term. I’d take what I could get.
I tried not to run out once I’d parked the van. I trailed up the walkway, calm and composed, and opened the door.
As soon as I stepped inside, a burst of music came at me, an eager twisting of beats and wails. Who the hell was listening to that?
Stanley, who’d been napping on the couch, dropped to the floor and moved to greet me, his nails clicking on the hardwood. I set my bag down on the bottom stair and patted his head absently. Then I took off my tennis shoes and padded toward the source of the music. I heard the couch springs creak as Stanley returned to his spot.
My kitten shot out of the kitchen and latched onto my sock, attacking it ferociously with teeth and claws. “Hey, there,” I said, smiling. I picked her up and tried to rub her stomach, but she clawed at my hands. I set the tiny animal back down and she bolted.
Was Collith in his room?
When I reached the hallway, I discovered the air was thick with hairspray. The bathroom door was open and light poured out. Probably hearing my footsteps, Emma popped into view, a curling iron tangled in her hair. Her lips parted into a cherry-red smile. She reached to turn the volume down on her phone. “Fortuna!” she exclaimed.
“Where are you going?” I asked her, refraining from commenting on her sequined outfit.
“I’m going out with some ladies from town,” Emma informed me with a wink. She pulled the curling iron free and a tight ringlet bobbed up and down.
I watched her for another moment. After our conversation on the porch, it was comforting to see her smiling again. “Well, have fun.”
Emma blew me a kiss and reached for another strand of straight hair. I turned away with a smile of my own. That smile immediately shriveled when I lifted my head and realized Lyari stood before me. “No,” I told her sternly. “No Court stuff today.”
“You’d better come now,” she said, ignoring this. “There’s a… disturbance in the throne room.”
I let out a breath. I thought about asking for details, but Emma might be listening. I didn’t want to worry her any more than I already had. Collith should know about it, though. Maybe he would even want to come with. “Fine. I just need a minute to—”
“There’s no time.” Lyari walked out of view, probably heading for the front door. I grumbled and rushed after her. She wouldn’t slow long enough for me to check the barn, either.
Twenty minutes later, we were sweeping into the throne room. Lyari had explained everything during our trek to the entrance. We hadn’t even stopped at Collith’s rooms so I could change—as my eyes roamed over the gathered crowd, I was wearing the same clothes I’d driven to Bea’s in. I found her within moments.
Savannah Simonson moved amongst the fae.
They regarded her with distaste or disinterest. One even shook her off when she touched his sleeve. It was obvious in one glance that she was unwell. Her arms were so frail that someone could snap them with one gentle tug. Her cheekbones were prominent, her actual cheeks nonexistent. Her hair was a dull shade that hung over her shoulders in clumps. It didn’t seem possible that she could be on her feet. Her cheeks were hollows and darkness filled the skin below her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice slicing through the air. Everyone within earshot turned.
Savannah just stared blankly for a moment. Then, all at once, she was rushing toward me. Lyari reached for her sword, along with every other Guardian around us, but I shook my head at her. Lyari still swung her arm out and stopped Savannah from reaching me.
“I came to warn you,” the witch hissed, her face etched with fury. Her nails dug into Lyari’s bare arm, but the faerie didn’t even flinch. “You thought I was talking about Gwyn. No, no, I wasn’t. Someone is still coming. The aura is closer now. That night, you opened a door that shouldn’t have been opened, Fortuna. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? My son will be—”
“Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?” I asked pointedly. One of the faeries watching us made a tittering sound. Savannah followed my gaze. She stared at one of them, and slowly, her expression gave way to confusion.
Her voice was small as she said, “Who are you people? Where is my son?”
“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” Despite how much touching the witch made my skin crawl, I wrapped my arm around Savannah to steer her toward the doors. At least her necromancer abilities were in no danger of being activated here—the fae burned their dead.
Without warning, Savannah wrenched herself free, and the force of it sent her tumbling. I moved to grab her, annoyed by the spectacle, but she scrambled across the flagstones.
“I see it everywhere now,” she whimpered, grasping a faerie’s tulle skirt to pull herself up. The room was so quiet, so still, that her voice seemed to echo. By this time, I’d closed the space between us again. She heard me coming and spun to grab me by the forearms. “The aura. It’s so dark. Endless dark. It’s coming, Fortuna. I see pain and death riding on its coattails! No, let go of me, let go!”
Other Guardians had come forward and peeled Savannah away.
“Do we have any rooms that lock from the outside? Not the dungeons,” I said to Lyari under my breath. Keeping her focus on the witch, she nodded. I took a breath. “Okay. Take her there, please. Do you know how to contact Zara?”
Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Yes. His Majesty made sure that we all have her number saved in our phones.”
“Excellent. Send her a message when you get the chance.”
In the meantime, I need to get my phone. I didn’t know Mercy’s number by heart, but it was saved in my contact list. She should be informed that her niece had been found.
Lyari moved to obey my orders, and I left for home, where my phone would be waiting on the entryway table. We’d left so quickly—and there was no signal down here, anyway—that I hadn’t bothered grabbing it.
Two Guardians followed me through the door. They didn’t make a sound or try to walk ahead of me, making it easy to forget them in my haste. I hadn’t gotten far when I noticed a dim figure farther down the passageway. Though I stopped, she kept coming, and soon the torches revealed Mercy’s face. Some of the tension eased from me.
“I was just on my way to text you,” I said. My voice sounded harsh in the stillness.
“I tracked my niece here. She led me on a merry chase all over the mountains, only to end up back where we started. Where is Savannah?” the witch asked. Her expression was pleasant. Neutral. But I knew it could change in an instant, if the wrong words came out of my mouth. Maybe she was worried I’d killed Savannah.
I could feel Mercy’s power rumbling in the air, and I’d already died once this week. I wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. I spoke slowly, my voice equivalent to the act of walking along a tightrope. “Savannah is with a healer. She came here tonight, of her own volition, talking about auras and death. I had my guards take her somewhere quiet and contact Zara. She’s healed me before and I trust her. She should be here soon, if she’s not already.”
Mercy looked at me for another long moment. “Thank you for helping her,” she said eventually.
With that, the witch walked past, and I was tempted to throw an insult at her back—she’d abandoned us the night Gwyn
killed me. Laurie had lost his throne for nothing. Mercy Wardwell had never atoned for breaking her word.
Tonight, my self-preservation was stronger than my anger. I let Mercy walk away and, with a weary sigh, continued on down the tunnel. I heard the creak of leather and knew the Guardians were still behind me.
At the surface, though, they hung back. I suspected there were Guardians waiting amongst the trees.
I made the journey home, and it felt like I was alone. I enjoyed the brief time of solidarity, taking energy from the serene silence. Whatever monsters lurked in the night didn’t come looking for me.
That serenity that evaporated the moment I lifted my head and saw Gwyn.
“It’s been a long day,” I called, halting. “Can we do a raincheck on this?”
She stood between two trees, and the rest of the Wild Hunt seemed to be elsewhere this time. When I stayed where I was, she crossed the distance between us, her elbows swinging. “I’m glad you decided to live,” the faerie said once she was close enough.
She was talking about the night she’d shoved my head into that icy water and held it there. So much had happened since then and it already felt like a distant memory.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t still pissed about it.
“I didn’t decide anything,” I said tightly. “You did.”
“That’s true,” she admitted. “I hadn’t actually decided yet, whether or not I would try to save you. Then you said that line about my goodness, and all that rot. Naevys said the same thing, when I went on my ‘killing spree’, as you put it.”
A sarcastic response rose in my throat, but I swallowed it. Gwyn could still change her mind about killing me, and I had no desire to go back to that in-between place. “Well, one good thing came from that night—I’m glad Creiddylad isn’t suffering anymore.”
“Once again, you mean what you say. How strange.” She paused. Her expression didn’t change as she added, “I heard that Naevys died. Is it true?”