“Like replenishing energy if you do something that’s physically exhausting?” I ask.
“Yes. So I wonder if maybe your Griffin Ability works in a similar way, but in quick bursts rather than slowly over a long period of time.”
I nod. “That sounds like it could make sense. It always feels as though it comes over me in a sudden rush, gets used up immediately with whatever I happen to say at the time, and then it’s gone.”
“Or it ends up released into your surroundings with no purpose if you don’t say anything at all.” She taps her chin and purses her lips. “Hmm. I wonder if you could hang on to it and use it at a later time instead of having to release it whenever it’s replenished.
“Uh … I could try that?” I suggest, having no idea how I would actually ‘hang on’ to this elusive power of mine.
“Anyway, this is all speculation at this point,” Aurora continues. “We need to gather some actual evidence. Take note of exactly when it happens. The day and time. And keep track of other things, like whether you’ve used an unusually large amount of your normal magic on something else. Because we don’t know whether your normal magic has any effect on your Griffin magic, or if the two are independent of each other.”
I nod as she speaks. “Basically, we want to figure out if we can predict when it will happen.”
“Yes. You’re going to have to be very thorough, Em. Record every detail that could possibly influence your Griffin Ability.”
“Yeah, definitely.” I frown as my mind races back over all the times I’ve given a magical command, trying to force the events into a pattern that makes sense. I end up shaking my head. “Maybe we’re wrong. There was one time when I used it twice within a few minutes. So the replenishing theory wouldn’t make sense then.”
“Well, perhaps you didn’t use it all up with the first thing you said. Perhaps you can hang onto some of it, but you didn’t realize that’s what you were doing. That’s why you had some left over for a second command, but then after that it was all used up.”
I chew on my lower lip before answering. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Or perhaps your magic is still settling,” Aurora suggests. “That’s what happens to halflings if their magic appears later in life. It often comes and goes for a while before becoming consistently present. Maybe, once a little more time has passed, your Griffin Ability will appear at regular intervals.”
I push one hand through my hair. “So many possibilities and unknowns.”
“That’s why you need to start documenting everything. That’s the only way we’ll learn if my theory is correct or not.”
I stand and drop the cushion onto the couch. I wander over to the fireplace and lift the silver candlestick holder from the mantelpiece. I practiced lighting the candle repeatedly before dinner, and I managed to produce a flame with almost every attempt. I snap my fingers beside the wick—and a flame ignites it.
“Well done.” Aurora claps her hands in delight. “Okay. Now that you’ve got that one right, what shall I teach you next?”
Instead of answering her, I ask, “Is this what you do every night? Eat dinner alone in your room? Or do you have family dinners when everyone’s home?”
If she’s confused by my change of subject, she doesn’t show it. “Well, it’s always different,” she says with a shrug. “Sometimes we use one of the smaller dining rooms and have dinner with just the four of us. Sometimes extended family members join us. Sometimes we entertain guests, or my mother will entertain her friends, or I’ll entertain some of the young ladies of the court. If I’m tired of everyone, then I eat alone here.” She cocks her head. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just trying to picture what your normal life is like. Clarina told me you have ladies-in-waiting, but you sent them away on holiday. And I haven’t seen you interact with anyone other than your mother and a handful of servants and guards, so—”
“So you’re wondering if I’m a miserable loner?” she asks with one raised eyebrow.
“No. I’m wondering if you’re trying to hide me from everyone else who lives here.”
Several moments pass before she answers. “I wouldn’t call it hiding, but I suppose that’s essentially what it is. People are going to ask questions about you, Em. They’re already asking questions about this strange friend of mine who doesn’t look like she belongs here. It’s easier if we don’t put ourselves in a position where we have to answer anyone until the right time.”
“And the right time will be … ?”
“When you and Roarke make an official announcement about your engagement. No one will question your presence here then. They wouldn’t dare.”
The words ‘official announcement’ send a chill through me. Then, despite the fact that I’m standing beside the fire, the chill seems to become real. Goosebumps rise across my skin, and cold air whispers across the back of my neck. I look over my shoulder, but despite the distinct feeling that someone is watching me, I don’t see anyone else in the room.
With a quiet click, the door opens. My gaze darts toward it. It swings slowly open, and into the room walks Roarke. Sharp angles, dark hair perfectly in place, and eyes the color of red wine. His intense gaze sweeps across the room before landing on me. His lips curl into half a smile as a flush heats my skin.
“Oh, look at that.” Aurora clasps her hands together beneath her chin. “She’s thrilled to see you, Roarke.”
“Indeed.” As the door closes itself behind Roarke, he walks slowly toward me, hands behind his back. “If only she was thrilled for the right reasons and not because she’s been desperate to interrogate me since the moment she arrived here.”
I swallow before speaking. “I’m glad you haven’t forgotten why I’m here.”
He stops in front of me, close enough that I have to look up to meet his eyes. I knew he was tall, of course, but I’d forgotten the way his commanding presence makes him seem even taller. I won’t step back, though. I refuse to be intimidated by the guy I’m supposed to be marrying soon, regardless of the fact that I have no intention of actually going through with the union.
Roarke’s smile stretches a little wider, and from behind his back, he produces a rose. A gold, delicately fashioned rose with a ruby at the center of its solid gold petals. “My lady,” he murmurs, bowing slightly as he hands the rose to me. I hesitate, then take it from him. He leans farther forward, his face suddenly way too close to mine, and his lips briefly graze my cheek. A cold shiver skitters across my skin and down my neck. “My apologies for taking so long to return. My father and I don’t often have to deal with matters personally, but this was one of those occasions. We thought it best to stay where we were until the job was done.”
“Uh … okay. Thanks for that cryptic explanation.”
“Soon, my love, you’ll be part of the family. You’ll know all our secrets.”
“Your love? Really?” I place the gold rose on the mantelpiece and cross my arms over my chest. “I think it’s a little soon for that, Roarke.”
Roarke looks at Aurora with a quiet chuckle. “Have you been teaching her how to play hard to get?”
Aurora stretches out across the couch, straightening the layers of her skirt over her legs. “Nope. It appears she knows how to do that on her own.”
I almost make a comment about how this is all a game to them, but since I’m hoping to beat them at it and get out of here alive, I should probably play along. “How about we get to know each other a little better before you start throwing the words ‘my love’ around? You haven’t even taken me on a date yet.”
“A date? Well, I hope you have something a little smarter to wear than that—” he gestures to my jeans and hoodie “—if you’re planning to go on a date with a prince. And speaking of clothing, have you not been given more appropriate attire?”
“I have, but I prefer to wear the kind of clothes I’m comfortable in.”
“Refused,” Aurora says from across the room. “She flat-out refused to wear
any of the dresses.”
I breathe out sharply through my nose. “Those dresses look like they’re from another century. I know this is a palace full of royals, but can’t you move with the times in the clothing department? The rest of the fae world seems to wear pretty much the same kind of clothes people wear in my world.”
“This is your world, Em,” Aurora reminds me. “And if you bothered to take a closer look inside your wardrobe, I think you’d find that the outfits hanging there are of the latest fashion. Formal fae fashion, which may not be familiar to you, but still. Only the very latest designs.”
“You’re right,” I tell her, moving away from Roarke to lean against an armchair. “I’m not familiar with formal fae fashion.”
“Enough about clothing,” Roarke says. He turns to face me, pushing his hands into the pockets of his long coat, which is covered in finely detailed silver embroidery and is no doubt the latest in ‘formal fae fashion.’ “Tell me, my love—” He cuts himself off. “Apologies,” he adds with a slight dip of his head. “Please tell me, my lady, what you think of your new home.”
“Since you’ve seen the inside of my previous home, I assume you can figure out my feelings toward this one.”
“You love it?” he asks. “You’re in complete awe? You’re unendingly grateful you get to spend the rest of your life here?”
“Not exactly. It is beautiful, I’ll give you that. Not quite what I expected, but definitely beautiful.”
“Ah, now I’m intrigued.” He lifts the gold rose from the mantelpiece and twirls it between his fingers. “What were you expecting?”
I lift my shoulders in a slow shrug as I try to put my initial expectations into words. “I don’t know. You Unseelies are meant to be the evil bad guys, right? So I was expecting something … colder. Darker. A dead forest surrounding your palace, or perpetual winter or something. But, you know, everything’s sunny and warm and alive.” Outside, at least, I add silently. I say nothing about the cold, oppressive feeling that sometimes presses on my shoulders when I’m inside the palace. The chill I can sense in the air right now.
Roarke tilts his head to the side. “You haven’t looked outside at night, have you.”
I cast my mind back to the three nights I’ve spent here so far. Each evening when I’ve returned to my room, the curtains have been drawn, the enchanted lamps lit, and the small pool in my forest-themed bathroom has been filled with steaming hot water and scented bubbles. “No, I don’t think I have.”
He walks past me, places the gold rose on the table Aurora and I normally eat at, and waves his hand past the curtains. As they open themselves, he turns back and extends his hand toward me. “Let me show you something.”
Reluctantly, I place my hand in his. He opens the balcony doors and leads me outside. I suck in a breath at the unexpectedly frigid air. Then, as I reach the balcony railing and look down, my lips part in amazement at the sight of the glittering winter wonderland covering the entire palace grounds. “Wow,” I whisper.
“My mother likes summer,” Roarke says, “but my father likes winter. Her magic controls the day, and his controls the night.”
My eyes trail across the snow-covered topiary, the frozen fountains, and the icicles hanging from the fingertips of the nearest statue. “That must be very confusing for all the plants and creatures residing in these gardens.”
“Fortunately for them, they’re magical too. They can handle it.”
A shiver courses through me, and Roarke shrugs free of his coat. “What a gentleman,” I say drily as he places it over my shoulders. “Although I would have expected there to be a spell that prevents people from getting cold.”
“There is. But my magic levels are a little low at present.” Standing closer to me now, he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my right ear. I stiffen immediately, staring somewhere in the region of his neck instead of into his eyes, but as his fingers brush the small coin-shaped piece of metal attached to the skin behind my ear, I relax a little. He isn’t trying to be intimate; he’s checking if the concealment device is still there.
“Worried I might have taken it off?” I ask, pleased to hear that my voice is steady.
“Not particularly. You don’t know the magic required to remove it.”
“But you’re checking anyway. Just in case.”
“Of course. I’d be foolish not to check. You might have found someone in this palace willing to remove it for you, or your Griffin Ability might have come alive long enough for you to instruct this device to remove itself.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Second thoughts about our agreement. Guilt, perhaps.” He leans sideways against the balustrade, entirely comfortable in the chilly night air. “Have you begun to feel guilty yet, Emerson?”
Begun? Guilt has been eating at me since before I even got here. I gave up my mother’s hidden location to a dangerous faerie who then put her into a magical coma. I ran from the people who helped me and asked for nothing in return. I abandoned my best friend without so much as a goodbye. None of this, however, is Roarke’s business. So I clear my throat and ask, “Why would I be feeling guilty? I agreed to this arrangement in order to help someone. I shouldn’t have to feel guilty about that.”
“True, but perhaps you’ve become afraid since you arrived here. Perhaps you want your friends—the Griffin rebels?—to know where you are after all.”
I haven’t confirmed Roarke’s suspicion that it was the Griffin rebels who rescued me the day I ran from both the Guild and the Unseelies and fell from the edge of a cliff. He’s asked where I was hiding out, but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell him about that enchanted safe place. When in the company of others, I’m unable to even think of it, let alone speak the name of the place or its location. Instead, a blank space appears in my mind, presumably part of the protective spell that helps to keep that place safe. My memory of it always returns when I’m alone, but it’s still disconcerting every time it completely vanishes from my mind.
Refusing to look away from Roarke’s gaze, I say, “I’m not afraid, and I have not changed my mind. The last thing I want is my friends showing up here. Why would I risk them ruining our agreement before you’ve had a chance to follow through with your part?”
His smile is slow and careful. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“Which reminds me,” I add. “You still need to prove that you actually have useful information that can help my mother. You can’t expect me to marry you without some assurance that you’re telling the truth.”
“Are you saying you’re not fully committed to our intended union?”
“I am,” I say fiercely, hoping the lie doesn’t show on my face, “but only if you’re fully committed to completely healing my mother. I want to be able to trust you, Roarke. Please give me a reason to.”
“Hmm.” Roarke narrows his eyes as if considering my request. “Let’s see. You—”
“Emerson Clarke?”
I look toward the balcony doors at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice. In the doorway stands a guard I don’t recognize. “Yes?” I ask.
“The Unseelie King wishes to meet you.”
Four
The journey through the palace to meet the king feels both torturously long and frighteningly quick. It’s enough time for me to get myself completely worked up, but not nearly enough time to calm down and prepare myself.
“My father isn’t as kind as I am,” Roarke tells me as we stride across glossy marble hallways with two uniformed faeries ahead of us and two behind. “He wants to keep you no matter what. Daughter-in-law or prisoner.”
Wonderful. That doesn’t make me want to throw up at all.
“I won’t let that happen, of course,” Roarke adds, “but it would be better if you don’t make any joking comments about changing your mind or not being certain about the union. Things might get … unpleasant.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not changing my mind.” In my effort to mas
k my fear, my words come out louder than I intended. “I’m here, aren’t I?” I continue in a lower voice. “And I came to you. Doesn’t that prove how serious I am about this arrangement?”
“All I’m saying is that he doesn’t appreciate jokes or sarcasm, so it’s in your best interests to be polite. And you should probably remove my coat. You look very strange in it.”
I slip Roarke’s coat off and hand it back to him. “Perhaps it’s in his best interests to be polite too, given how valuable my Griffin Ability is to him. If he makes me his prisoner, I’ll never give him what he wants.”
I try very hard to believe my own words, but Roarke’s raised eyebrows and pitying expression make it impossible. As we stop outside an oversized, ornately carved door, he faces me. “You won’t need to give him anything, Emerson. He’ll take whatever he wants.”
A guard opens the door. The unnatural chill in the air intensifies, and the doorway itself seems to stretch wider like a giant mouth preparing to swallow me whole. I smell damp earth and rotting leaves. My heart pounds faster as images of slimy creatures, skulls, and beetles flash across my mind.
Then I blink away the imagined images and find that the doorway hasn’t changed at all, and the room it opens onto isn’t a dark mouth but a large office. Roarke takes my arm and steers me forward, since my feet have forgotten how to move on their own. “Remember, I’m on your side,” he whispers to me. “Prove to my father that you’re willing to work with us, and I’ll make sure you’re never forced into anything.”
I don’t answer, my attention focused instead on the interior of the king’s office. To the right is a table large enough for at least a dozen people to sit around. Oddly, though, whatever’s on top of the table appears blurred when I try to look too closely at it. My gaze swings to the left—and I’m even more startled by what I see there: no wall encloses the office on that side. Instead, it extends into an underground cavern made of rough rock and illuminated by pale light.
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