Shadow Faerie

by Rachel Morgan

  “Leave us.”

  The deep voice brings my attention to the desk straight ahead of us. The surface is as polished as every other slab of marble that fills this palace. On the other side, a tall chair that appears to be made of the same rough rock as the cavern faces away from us. The chair remains motionless as the guards leave the room and close the door. Then, despite the fact that it must weigh a ton, the chair turns smoothly to face us.

  King Savyon looks nothing like his son. His white-blond hair is streaked with black. His eyes are dark holes that bore into me. Without speaking, he places one hand on top of the other on the desk in front of him. Gold rings set with multi-colored gems glitter on every finger.

  “Father, this is Emerson Clarke,” Roarke says. I swallow and force myself to stand straighter. I’m pretty sure this is one of those situations where I’m not supposed to show fear, but I think I’m about to fail miserably.

  The king stands, walks around to the front of his desk, and folds his arms across his chest. His eyes travel all the way down my body and up again, his gaze like a cold, creeping finger stroking along my skin. His expressionless gaze lingers on my hoodie, then travels slowly up to my face, where he holds my gaze for several terrifying moments. Despite my determination not to be intimidated, I almost wilt with relief the moment his eyes release me and move to Roarke. I wrap my arms tightly around my body and stare at the floor just in front of my feet.

  “Well,” King Savyon says, his voice a deep rumble I can almost feel in my own chest. “She’s a far cry from the woman I hoped you’d one day unite with, Roarke. She’s barely fit to be a servant in this court, let alone a princess.”

  “Really, Father?” Roarke drawls. “That’s the nicest thing you have to say?”

  “What do you expect when you present me with such a dismal prospect for a daughter-in-law?”

  “I can assure you, Father, that her Griffin Ability more than makes up for what she lacks in other areas.”

  Those black eyes settle on me once more. “I certainly hope so. I’d like to see a demonstration now.”

  I open my mouth, my eyes darting between the two of them. I’m unsure if I’m allowed to speak, but they need to know that I can’t perform on demand. “Don’t worry, Emerson,” Roarke says before I can say anything. He reaches inside his coat and produces a small vial. “I have your precious elixir right here. Yokshin, our inventions master, has been examining it, but there’s plenty left for you to use.”

  Crap. This is so not what I planned to use the elixir for. I’m supposed to be alone with Roarke when he gives it to me so I can instruct him to tell me everything he knows about Mom and how to fix her. That isn’t going to work right now unless I can give an instruction to the king at the same time. To remain frozen in place, perhaps. So he can’t interfere. As Roarke turns to face me, thoughts race wildly through my head. Am I brave enough to do this? If I don’t do it now, will I get another chance? And if I do command him now, how will I get past all the guards on my way out? Command them as well? Will there be enough time to give Roarke, his father, and all the palace guards an instruction before my Griffin Ability runs out?

  “The compulsion potion first,” the king says. “Then the Griffin potion.”

  “Of course,” Roarke says, removing another small bottle from within his coat.

  “The—what?” I ask.

  “Compulsion potion,” Roarke repeats, removing the lid. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. You can be compelled to do certain things while under the influence of this potion. It’s just to make sure you behave while using your Griffin Ability. We wouldn’t want you doing something silly or irrational.” He laughs. “Like telling us all to kill ourselves or something.”

  All hope withers. “So—so you’re going to force me to say something?”

  “This is just a precaution, Emerson. My father doesn’t know yet if he can trust you.”

  He hands the bottle to me, and because I know I have absolutely no choice in the matter, I lift it to my lips. “How much?” I ask before tipping it back.

  “Just a sip.”

  The potion tastes like something familiar, but I can’t identify it. I hand the bottle back to Roarke, just as I realize that this compulsion thing sounds very much like the Griffin Ability everyone in this world has been trying to get their hands on. My Griffin Ability. “Wait—but—if you have such a thing as a compulsion potion, then what’s the big deal about my Griffin Ability? You can already tell people to do things and they’ll do them. You don’t need—” I realize what I’m saying too late. You don’t need me. Not something I should be pointing out when my Griffin Ability is the only leverage I have.

  “We can force people to take a potion and then compel them to say or do certain things,” Roarke explains. “That isn’t the same as telling the ground to split apart and then watching it happen a moment later.” He places the Griffin Ability elixir in my hand and steps back to stand beside his father. Now that they’re next to each other, I can see the faint resemblance between them despite their dramatic differences in hair and eye color. “Emerson,” Roarke says. “Don’t you think it would be fun if it started raining in here?”

  Though it’s an odd suggestion, I find that I agree with him. It would be the most marvelous thing in the world if it started raining right here in this room. “Yes,” I tell him.

  “Then you should take a sip of that elixir and make it rain.”

  He’s right. That’s exactly what I should do. So I remove the stopper from the vial and pour a few drops onto my tongue. Then I wait for that familiar tingle, that sense that the Griffin magic hidden somewhere within me is rushing suddenly to the surface. I look up at the ceiling and say, “Start raining.”

  And it does.

  I’m drenched within seconds, gasping and tensing my shoulders against the icy water. Roarke and the king remain completely dry, as if invisible umbrellas shield them from the downpour. “Tell it to stop,” Roarke calls out over the roar of raindrops.

  I can’t sense if there’s any Griffin power left simmering at the surface of my magic, and it’s impossible to hear my voice above the noise. But when I tell the rain to stop, I feel the words resonating in my head the way they do when my Griffin Ability comes alive, and I know it’s worked.

  “Very good,” the king says as I stand there shivering. He looks at Roarke. “Is Yokshin able to recreate the elixir? If not, and the Griffin Ability is random, the girl won’t be as useful to us as I’d hoped.”

  “He’s uncertain about recreating it, but in Aurora’s last message to me before we returned, she said she’s been working on some theories as to how the ability might work. She thinks it may become more predictable.”

  The king nods. “Well then. Are you sure you want to go through with this union? It would be simpler to deal with the girl as a prisoner.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want her to be a prisoner.” Roarke looks at me as though considering a purchase he’s about to make. “I actually quite like her. And Mother and Aurora can train her in the ways of the court. After some time, it’ll feel as though she’s always belonged here. She’ll become one of us. She’ll be happy to help us out whenever we have need of her Griffin Ability. We won’t even have to force her. Right, Emerson?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  A distant howl echoes through the cavern.

  “Good,” the king says again, paying no attention to the howl. “Until then, Roarke, you will give her a compulsion potion every day and tell her exactly what to say if and when her Griffin Ability appears.” All hope I had of using my Griffin Ability on Roarke slips away like ash through my fingers. “And you, Miss Clarke.” The king takes a step toward to me, which is about a thousand times closer than I’d like him to be. “Find out if Aurora’s theory—whatever it may be—is correct. Do everything you can to learn how your Griffin Ability works. You’ll be far more useful to us that way, and useful people are less likely to end up dead.”

  �
��Father,” Roarke says with a roll of his eyes. “That’s not helpful. She doesn’t understand your sense of humor yet.”

  The king’s expression doesn’t change one bit. Either he’s very good at keeping a straight face, or that wasn’t a joke.

  Another howl pierces the silence, louder this time. The king doesn’t look toward the cavern, so neither do I. Whatever creature or person is making that sound, I don’t want to know.

  “We will announce the union at your mother’s birthday celebration in two weeks,” the king says to Roarke. “You have until then to decide when the union ceremony will take place.”

  A third howl morphs into sobs, shouts and the sounds of a struggle. Finally, the king looks toward the cavern, and though I don’t want to, I follow his gaze. Two Unseelie guards are dragging a man across the cavern’s uneven floor. As the man struggles, one of the guards shoots a spark of magic into his side, and the man twists away and howls in agony.

  I look at Roarke, begging with my eyes for us to leave right now. But he’s watching the struggling man with an unreadable expression.

  “Ah, you found him,” the king says. “This is the last one, I presume?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Very good.” As the two guards step away from the man, King Savyon raises his hand. The man, who looked for a moment as if he was about to run, swallows and closes his eyes. The king clenches his hand tightly around the air and turns his fist abruptly to the side. Across the room, at the edge of the cavern, the man’s head does the same, bending almost parallel to his shoulder. Too far, my mind shrieks. Too far, TOO FAR!

  Then a sickening crack. The man’s cry cuts off. The king jerks his hand upward. The man’s head is ripped entirely off his body, and both parts fall to the floor, spurting blood everywhere.

  A strangled gasp escapes me. My hand flies up to cover my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut, but there’s no way I’ll ever be able to unsee that.

  As if from a distance, I hear the king’s voice. “That will be all, Roarke. Take the girl back to her quarters.”

  A hand latches onto my arm. I blink and force my eyes away from the dead body as Roarke pulls me toward the door. He opens it and lets me walk ahead of him. “And Roarke,” the king adds. “See to it that someone burns those hideous clothes she’s wearing. I don’t understand why it hasn’t been done already.”

  “She refused to part with them, apparently.”

  I dare to look back at the king. He doesn’t sigh. He doesn’t smile. He barely moves as he says, “The clothes will be burned. It’s up to Miss Clarke whether she’s still in them when that happens.”

  The door swings slowly toward us. The moment it clicks shut, I start running.

  Five

  I run all the way back to my bedroom, tug the door open, and slam it shut. I take a few unsteady steps into the room, barely seeing my surroundings. All I see is a man’s neck flipping to the side, and blood squirting from—

  I turn, blinking, as if I can somehow look away from the memory. Still breathing heavily from the run, I push my fingers through my hair. What the hell was I thinking coming to this place? That I’d actually be able to get away with the answers I need because I have a powerful Griffin Ability I can use against people? A Griffin Ability I can’t call upon at will, and which can be used to fulfill someone else’s purposes due to a potion I didn’t know existed. What a miserable joke. I should have guessed, though, that something like this would happen. There’s so much I don’t know about this world and its magic, but what I should have known was what an idiot idea it was to put myself in the midst of a bunch of powerful, dark magic-wielding faeries.

  From somewhere behind me, a soft thump reaches my ears. I freeze. I know I should run. I should pull the door open and keep running until this palace is far behind me. But fear sticks my feet to the floor. Ever so slowly, I twist around and look over my shoulder. Across the room on the round table, sitting beside the tray of tea and macarons Clarina must have left here not long ago, is a small owl. As I watch, the owl seems to collapse in on itself. An instant later, a black kitten sits in its place.

  “Bandit?” I whisper in disbelief. I turn fully to face the shapeshifting creature. It flicks its right ear in response. Without a moment’s pause, I race across the room and scoop him into my arms, tears burning my eyes. “I don’t know how you got here or where you’ve been hiding or if you’re the one who’s been making strange noises in my suite,” I whisper, “but I’m so, so, so glad to see you.” I thought I left him sleeping in my room when I snuck away from the oasis, but he must have shifted into something smaller and climbed into one of my pockets. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Please don’t leave me,” I mumble into his fur, my words running together. “Please don’t leave me here alone. I’m sorry about the things I said when you first showed up. That I don’t like pets and that maybe I could sell you. I swear I didn’t mean any of that. I had a puppy once, but it ran away and never came back, and Mom and I searched, but we couldn’t find it and I cried for days.” I suck in a long breath and lower my arms enough to look down at him sitting in them. He looks back up with perfectly adorable kitten eyes. “I know you’re magical, but you probably don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?” He tilts his head to the side, looking for all the world as if he’s trying to figure out what I’m saying. “Yeah,” I whisper, pulling him to my chest again. “So just don’t disappear, okay? This place is not safe. Not for either of us. If you’d seen what I just—”

  “Emerson?” Roarke’s voice on the other side of the door sends a jolt through me. I have no idea how he’ll feel about the idea of a shapeshifting pet showing up here, so I hurry into the bedroom and place Bandit on the bed. “Stay here,” I whisper to him before pulling the bedroom door closed. With limbs that are still shaking, I cross the sitting room and open the main door just wide enough to peek through the gap at Roarke.

  “Are you all right?” he asks.

  Another brief flash of spraying blood and ripping flesh crosses my mind. I swallow, flattening one hand on the doorframe and the other on the back of the door. Pull yourself together, I silently instruct. You chose to come here. You chose this option to help Mom. Now make it work. “Yes, thank you. I’ll be fine. It was just a little bit of a shock, that’s all. Seeing … that.” I doubt it’s necessary to elaborate on exactly what I’m referring to.

  “Can I come in?” he asks.

  “Uh … okay.”

  We sit side by side on the divan with a respectable amount of space between us. I risk a glance at the closed door separating us from the bedroom. Hopefully Bandit’s intelligent enough to know he needs to remain hidden. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Roarke says. “I know it must have seemed brutal and cruel, but it didn’t happen for no reason. That man disobeyed the king, and the consequence was death.”

  I breathe out slowly. Since Roarke seems to be waiting for a response, I say, “Okay.”

  “I just wanted to explain because I don’t want you to be afraid to live here. That man was a criminal. He and several others stole from my father. He deserved death. But for those of us who play by the rules, life here is good.”

  For those of us who play by the rules. Roarke’s reassurances only increase my fear. I’m not planning to play by the rules. I’m planning to steal knowledge and then run for my life. “I know,” I say quietly. “I understand. Like I said, it was just a shock. I’ve only been here a few days, and everything is very … different. I’m still getting used to it.” I swallow. “I think it might help to put me at ease if I knew for certain that I could trust you. If you could tell me a few things—about Mom—then I’d know you can truly help me.”

  He leans back on one hand and surveys me as his serious expression turns to amusement. “You’re actually not as bad at this as Aurora made out. Still fairly transparent, but I’m impressed you’re trying.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Trying what?”

  “To twist this situation to your
advantage.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m curious. Did that scene with my father actually upset you, or is your entire reaction a ruse so you can try to manipulate some information out of me?”

  My mouth drops open of its own accord. I close it quickly and grit my teeth together as I respond. “Of course I was upset by it. It was horrible.” I lean away from him. “Were you motivated by any genuine concern when you decided to come to my room, or is this part of whatever game you’re playing?”

  He smiles again, but it’s softer this time. “I’m sorry. It seems the two of us are still figuring each other out. And yes, my concern for you was genuine. I’m not so cruel that it means nothing to me to see you upset. We might be about to form one of the least romantic unions in history, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to at least try to care for you.”

  I fold my arms over my chest, hugging myself tighter than usual. “Well, in the unlikely event that you’re telling the truth, thank you for trying.”

  He examines me for another few moments. “What can I say to convince you I’m being truthful?”

  “You could start with—”

  “Shall I tell you about the little house you grew up in? Number twenty-nine Phipton Way. Shall I tell you about the wild roses your mother loved to tend in the garden? Or about the friend who used to visit sometimes? The one who always ended up arguing with your mother. The one you never actually met, because you were always told to go to your room. Or what about the time your mom showed up to fetch you from school an hour early and stood outside the fence speaking to things that weren’t there? Would telling you about these things be enough to prove to you that I know more about your mother than anyone who’s tried to help you so far?”

  A shiver slithers up my spine. “How do you know these things?”

  His eyebrows pinch together slightly. “You still don’t get it, do you. You don’t understand how valuable you are. When I heard about your Griffin Ability, I made it my priority to learn everything I could about you. I tracked down your aunt, then your mother, and then the one person who connected Daniela and Emerson Clarke to this world.”