Shadow Faerie

by Rachel Morgan

  My mind races as I put together the pieces of Roarke’s plan. Now I understand why he’s always emphasized the fact that he’ll never force me into anything: because a willing subject is exactly what this spell requires. My hands curl into fists so tight my nails digs into my palms. Everything—everything—he’s done has been about earning my trust, getting me onto his side. His gifts, his kindness and occasional flirting, even allowing Dash to stay so that I’d have a friend—it’s all been part of luring me toward the moment where I willingly marry him while unwittingly hand over my magic.

  Standing there in shocked silence, I arrive abruptly at another realization: Roarke was never going to heal Mom. Once my magic is his, he’ll head straight for the shadow world, claim it as his own, and destroy anyone who tries to stop him or take that world away from him. Waking my mother and healing her mind won’t come anywhere near his to-do list.

  And what about Dash? Roarke would never have let him go. Is he a prisoner? Dead? And Aurora … was she telling the truth about not knowing Roarke’s plans to use this spell? Or could she have known all along and suddenly had a change of heart? But Roarke is her brother. Why would she go behind his back and tell me about this spell? Is this information some kind of trap?

  Bandit rubs against my legs again, in the form of a ginger cat this time. I bend and pick him up, hugging him so tightly I’m afraid I might hurt him. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper into the hair along his back, so quietly that even I can barely hear my own voice.

  A loud rap at the door makes me jump. “Emerson, my love?” Roarke’s voice calls out.

  I press my hand over my mouth to cover my gasp. Bandit tumbles from my arms, shifts into a bird, and swoops onto my shoulder. I look around, lost for a moment with no thought, no plan. Then I quickly return the fallen chair to its usual position, grab the offending book, and shove it under the cushion. “Emerson, are you in there?” Roarke asks. I hurry to the balcony doors. I open and close them as quietly as I can, the cold air hitting me immediately. As Bandit takes off and flies away, I swing my legs over the balustrade and begin climbing down.

  Part Three

  Twenty-Two

  VIOLET

  Violet leaned back in the booth, lifted her trumpet-shaped glass of iced night, and took a sip. Ryn did the same with his tankard of ale. The two of them were doing their best to appear at ease, but it was tough in a tavern in the heart of Unseelie territory. Violet pulled her sleeves a little lower, making sure her wrist markings were covered. Things would turn south quickly if the patrons of this tavern discovered two guardians amongst their company, and she doubted anyone would give them a chance to explain their ex-guardian status.

  Ryn lowered his tankard and leaned forward. “I don’t understand why we can’t find it,” he said in a low voice. “We’ve been there before. Why is it hidden from us now?”

  “It’s been a long time since we were there,” Violet reminded him. “The Unseelies have obviously upped the security around their palace. Made it invisible to those who shouldn’t be there.” She tapped her glass with her fingernails. “Calla will get in. You know she will.”

  “And if the Unseelie Palace has some kind of Griffin Ability detection spell over its entrance like the Guild does?” Ryn asked. “She’ll get herself caught while she’s following those guards. It won’t matter that she’s invisible. They’ll know someone’s there.”

  Violet slouched a little lower in the booth, attempting to look bored. Beneath the table, she kicked Ryn’s foot. He was going to bring attention to himself if he didn’t start looking more relaxed. “I very much doubt the Unseelies have that kind of magic over their entrance,” she said. “They’re not bothered by Griffin Abilities, remember? They value them, in fact. They don’t just want to use Em’s power; they want her to be one of them.” News of the Unseelie Prince’s betrothal to a Griffin Gifted girl had reached the Guild soon after Dash’s impromptu decision to climb into an Unseelie carriage, and Perry had passed the news on to Calla immediately. It confirmed Dash’s suspicion that the girl his mother had heard rumors about was indeed Emerson. But it had now been four days since that announcement, and Dash still hadn’t returned with Emerson.

  Ryn shook his head. “That poor girl. After everything she’s been through with her mother and that woman with the glass magic and everyone hunting her for her Griffin Ability, now she’s being forced into a union with an Unseelie.”

  “And she’s so young,” Violet murmured. “Not even eighteen yet.”

  “She never should have left the—our safe haven.” Ryn’s hand clenched around the tankard. “Why was she so foolish? If she’d just stayed with us, we could have kept her safe.”

  Violet gave Ryn another kick under the table, and he finally leaned back and smoothed out his expression. “What’s done is done,” she said. “Once we’ve got Em back to safety, she can explain.”

  “Dash should have retrieved her by now. Why is it taking him so long?”

  “Probably because he doesn’t have Calla’s ability to cast illusions,” Violet pointed out. “He can’t simply walk out of there with Em. It’s a wonder he got into the palace in the first place.”

  “If he got in,” Ryn reminded her. “We still don’t know if something happened to him after he got into that Unseelie carriage.”

  Violet took another slow sip of her drink before answering, needing a few moments to mentally convince herself that nothing terrible had happened to Dash. “He’s fine. I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a good guardian. Calla will get inside, she’ll find him and Em, and all three of them will return safely to us.”

  “We should have gone with her,” Ryn said. “Calla could easily have made all three of us invisible.”

  “Yes, but it would have been harder for her to cast any other illusion at the same time,” Violet reminded him. They’d been over this repeatedly yesterday and this morning while planning for Calla to follow the first Unseelie guards she could find. “And we need to be available to respond to any other emergency Ana might inform us of. Now can you please stop being so anxious? I’m going to run out of reassuring things to say.”

  Across the table, Ryn gave her a small smile. “If you could stop being so anxious, I might be able to get past my own worry. But it’s tough when I have to feel mine and yours.”

  Violet began tapping the side of her glass again, feeling guilty—as she always did—when her negative emotions ended up affecting Ryn. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing a better job convincing myself not to be concerned. But despite my worry—” she reached across the table and placed her hand on his “—I do believe they’ll be fine. Dash and Calla have escaped from dangerous situations before; they can do it again, with Em this time.”

  Ryn nodded. “On a slightly different topic,” he said, “have you noticed how insistent Calla’s been about staying involved with the search for Em? She was originally supposed to be with Chase today to stop that heist in Paris, but she asked Darius to go in her place.”

  “Yes. I did notice that,” Violet said, leaning back again. “I wondered if maybe she bonded with Em more than I realized while Em was at our safe haven. But … I don’t know. Em wasn’t with us for very long.”

  “She’s also been more distracted lately,” Ryn continued. “And she’s been leaving more often than usual without telling us where she’s going. I think she’s investigating something we don’t know about.”

  “You’re probably right. But she doesn’t have to tell us everything, does she? Living with family, working with family …” Violet rubbed her finger over a droplet of condensation on the table. “Well, it can be difficult at times when everyone knows everything about you. I don’t blame her for keeping some things from us. And she’s been talking to Chase, at least. I’ve seen the two of them whispering together. So whatever’s going on, she isn’t dealing with it alone.”

  “True,” Ryn said.

  A shiver against the side of her leg alerted Violet to a message on
her amber. She removed it from her pocket and kept the rectangular device beneath the edge of the table as she tapped its glossy surface. “Message from Perry,” she said as her eyes darted across the words. “Hmm. Another glass attack on a group of guardians. Darn that woman. Oh, and this is important. The Guild’s finally decided on a date for that big fancy ceremony they want to have while doing their veil restoration spell.”

  “Idiots,” Ryn mutters. “Why are they making such a fuss about it?”

  “Well, it is a big deal. It’s been, what? Seventeen, eighteen years since it was torn?”

  “Yes, but the Guild is practically asking for someone to come along and interfere. It would have been safer if they’d quietly done it already without any fanfare.”

  Violet sighed as she put her amber away. “It’s happening in four days. Last time we spoke about it, Dash suggested we should be there, and now Perry’s saying the same thing. I think they’re right. We should hide there and keep watch. Just a few of us—you and me, anyone else who isn’t busy at that time. In case your predictions come true and something does go wrong.”

  Ryn quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t think they can handle things without our help?”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “I wish they could, but they’ve been known to mess up before.”

  “They’ve been known to spectacularly mess up,” Ryn said. “I believe that’s the word you were looking for.”

  “I believe you’re right,” she said with a smile. “So, since we’re doing nothing useful right now, we may as well plan how we’re going to hide on that tiny piece of island that’s left around the monument.”

  Twenty-Three

  My feet hit the snow-covered ground of a flowerbed far below my balcony. I duck down immediately in case someone walking nearby heard me. With my heart still thrashing in my chest, I look around. I need to run. Not to run away—I haven’t yet figured out how to escape—but to run the way Val and I used to. As fast as possible, leaping and climbing and somersaulting. Forgetting everything except the ground slamming beneath our feet, the rough sting of bricks and the cold bite of metal against our hands. The exhilaration of successfully making it from point A to point B faster than the previous time.

  I can’t do that here. These gardens don’t contain the right kinds of obstacles, and my long coat would be a bit of a hindrance. But I can at least run. And if someone sees me—if someone catches me—I can tell them a story they’ll have to believe: I’m practicing parkour. You’ve seen me do it before, right? You’ve seen me showing Princess Aurora some of the jumps and falls? Why am I doing it in the middle of a freezing winter night, you ask? Well, one needs to train in all conditions, don’t you think? You guards train in all conditions, don’t you?

  After waiting another few moments to make sure no one’s walking nearby, I straighten and take off immediately. My legs race faster and faster. My arms pump at my sides, and my coat whips at the air as it billows out behind me. I swerve between the rose bushes and around the queen’s bower. I leap clear across one of the smaller pavilions and keep going. I run further from the palace than I’ve ever been before.

  When my lungs begin to ache and my face is just about numb with cold, I finally come to a stop. Ahead of me is a circular section of paving—uncovered by snow, somehow—with a fountain at its center. Streams of water, flowing from a nymph’s hands and mouth into the pool below, are frozen in place. I walk to the edge of the pool as I catch my breath. Bandit, still a bird, flits by and lands on my shoulder. He shifts into something small and furry and climbs down my arm and into the pocket of my coat. I close my eyes for a moment, wracking my muddled brain for the words to a spell that will keep me warm. When I eventually find the words, I hold my hand up over my head, speak the words in a quiet voice, and allow myself to relax a little as warmth blankets my body.

  Then I sit beside the pool.

  And I try to make sense of my situation.

  I can’t go through with this union. That much is clear. But how do I get away from here with my life intact? And what about Dash? I recognize now that Roarke wouldn’t simply let him leave, which means Dash is either a prisoner somewhere or he’s dead. I bury my face in my hands as I shudder. He can’t be dead, he can’t be dead, I silently repeat. It’s too awful to imagine him slaughtered in the same way that man in the cavern lost his life.

  He isn’t dead, I tell myself again, more firmly this time. Roarke may be cruel and hate all guardians, but he likes to take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves. He’s aware that Dash knows far more than he should about the Griffin rebels. Roarke could use Dash to try to gain access to the rebels himself if he wants to get his hands on more Griffin Abilities. The more I think about this, the more I manage to convince myself that Dash must be alive. Where, though? I don’t know the location of any prisons in this world. Dash could be thousands of miles away.

  After sitting quietly for a while, staring across the frozen garden and coming no closer to deciding what to do, I sense my Griffin Ability replenishing. I push my sleeve back and look at the bracelet; the ruby is almost completely red. When my power is ready to be used again, I’ll have to tell something to ‘open,’ which seems a useless command out here where there are no doors. I’ll have to tell a frozen rosebud to open or something.

  Feeling uncomfortable, I shift my legs into a different position. Bandit wriggles inside my pocket, then crawls out and sits on my knee. “How are we going to get out of here?” I whisper to him. His only response is a twitch of his tiny mouse ear. Then he shifts into a dragonfly-type creature with a tiny humanoid face and glowing wings. “Pretty,” I murmur. He shifts again, flashing between several indistinguishable forms before becoming a dragon small enough to fit into my lap. “My new favorite form,” I say to him with a smile. “I think it’s incredible how you can—” A beat of silence passes as I realize what he’s telling me. “A dragon. We can get away on a dragon!” Bandit coughs, and a spark escapes his mouth. “You’re so clever,” I tell him, running one finger along his smooth, scaly back.

  But my excitement fades as I consider all the obstacles I’ll need to pass in order to make this dragon plan succeed. I don’t know how to open one of those elevators in the ground that would carry me to the bottom of the pit. I don’t know how to unlock the room with the saddles and the staircase. I don’t know the spell to remove the shield layer preventing each dragon from flying away. And I don’t know if Imperia likes me enough to let me climb onto her back without Aurora or Phillyp around.

  I check the ruby on my wrist again, then cast my eyes about for something I can open without drawing any attention to this area of the grounds. I wonder if there’s any point in being careful, though. I’m so far from the palace now that I doubt anyone would notice if I told a hole to open in the ground, or a tree trunk to—

  “Wait a minute,” I murmur, interrupting my own thoughts. I can’t open any doors out here, but what about doorways? Faerie paths doorways, to be more specific. I’ve heard repeatedly that faerie paths are inaccessible from most parts of this palace and its grounds, but Aurora was always referring to the kind of accessibility one would gain with a stylus. Perhaps, if I turn my thoughts toward the faerie paths when I say the word ‘open,’ a doorway will form.

  Though I’ve still got another few minutes before I can use my Griffin Ability, I move Bandit off my lap and stand. A thrill sends blood pumping faster through my veins. This might actually work. I might escape the Unseelies tonight. Bandit becomes a tiny lizard and scurries up the edge of my coat. He climbs back into my pocket as I bounce up and down in anticipation.

  And it’s then that I hear an odd sound. A wail, almost. A person crying out. I stop bouncing and look around, but I don’t see anyone. I walk slowly around the fountain, peering into the garden around me, seeing little more than glistening white snow.

  Until I almost trip over something.

  Looking down, I find a metal circle roughly the size of a manhole cover em
bedded in the paving. It has a hinge on one side, which is what I almost tripped over, and at its center is a sold metal ring. A trapdoor? I crouch down and take a closer look at the symbol stamped into the metal. It’s a simple outline of two hands bound together at the wrists. I get onto my knees and lower my ear close to the cold metal. I hear another cry, and as I straighten, I remember something Aurora mentioned in passing. Something about Yokshin showing her his experiments in a prison. Just the small one we have here, she’d said.

  My thoughts turn immediately to Dash. If he wasn’t allowed to leave, and he wasn’t killed, then he could very likely be somewhere beneath this trapdoor. I hesitate for a moment, then pull my coat sleeve down over my hand and take hold of the metal ring. I pull gently, then a little harder. But the trapdoor doesn’t budge. My survival instincts tell me to stay the hell away from this prison, but my concern for Dash keeps me frozen to the spot. I try the simple unlocking spell Aurora taught me, but that makes no difference either.

  A powerful magical command, however, might force it to open.

  I begin shaking my head as soon as the thought occurs to me. I stand and take a step away from the trapdoor. I can’t use my Griffin Ability for this. I have to open the faerie paths instead. The word ‘open’—this one ambiguous compulsion command I’ve been given—could be my only way out of here.

  But what about Dash, my conscience prods. You know he’s probably down there. You can’t leave him behind.

  “Dammit,” I mutter. And then: “Wait.” I blink as something that should have been obvious occurs to me: I can do both. It won’t take much of my power to open a faerie paths doorway. I’ll make sure to hang onto whatever power is left once I’ve given my ‘open’ command, and I’ll use it to unlock the trapdoor. But then … the faerie paths doorway won’t stay open for long. It’ll close if I don’t have some part of my body keeping it open, which means I can’t go beneath the trapdoor to find out if Dash is there. Or … could I tell the doorway to remain open for a long time? For as long as it takes me to get back to it? Perhaps that would work, but if it requires a lot of magic, it might use up all my Griffin power in one go. Then I’ll just have to forget about the trapdoor and leave on my own.