“Violet? Is there a problem?”
Now is definitely not the best time to ponder Nate’s motivations. “Nope. Everything is just damn peachy. Let’s go.” I slam the drawer shut with such force that the table bangs against the wall. I slowly count to five before turning around. Ryn has already opened a doorway in the air and is tapping his foot impatiently. I take his outstretched hand and step into the void with him, doing my best to keep my mind blank.
As the darkness of the faerie paths dissolves, I find we’re standing beside a road lined on either side with tall trees. High above us, they reach across the road to touch each other, like hands joining to form a tunnel. At the base of each tree is a small light.
“This is the road that leads up to the mansion,” says Ryn.
“Okay. So now we wait for some human guests to drive by and we ambush them, is that right?”
“Done.” Ryn points past me into the trees. I turn, but can’t make anything out until I take a few steps away from the road. Then I see the sleek black edge of a car sticking out from behind a bush.
“When did you do this?”
“Just before I came over to your house this evening. I stood in the middle of the road and waved my arms around like an idiot. After the driver pulled over, I stunned him and threw one of those sleeping bombs into the back to put the two guests to sleep.”
“You wasted energy on stunning someone?”
“He’s human; it hardly took any effort at all. I think I used up more power moving the limo into the trees.” Ryn walks past me and opens one of the doors. “Climb in,” he says. “And mind the bodies.”
I bend slightly and look inside the car. The interior is long and spacious with plush seats, several television screens, and a compartment full of drinks and glasses. On the floor of the vehicle lie two unconscious humans. I straighten. “I don’t feel right about this, Ryn. Maybe you should have gone to the Guild and told them what you know. They can deal with this the official way.”
“The official way? Do you know how long the official way would take? These are members of the Unseelie Court we’re dealing with, and you know what a delicate balance exists between the courts. The Guild would have to be extremely careful not to upset that balance, and by the time they’ve gone through all the right channels, anything could have happened to Calla.”
“And what are you going to say when you get her safely home and everyone wants to know how and where you found her?”
“I don’t know, I’ll figure out some story. Right now all I care about is finding her.”
I put my hands on my hips and stare down at the ground. If I had a little sister and she went missing, I sure wouldn’t wait around for the Guild to find her. So who am I to tell Ryn he should be doing anything different? Decision made, I hold my skirt up and climb into the car.
“Okay, here’s the invitation.” Ryn hands me an ornately decorated card. “Don’t lose it. And here’s a mask for you. I’ll be in the front compartment making sure the driver does what he’s told.”
“What are you—Actually, never mind. I don’t think I want to know.” I pull the door shut and read the names on the invitation. Anton and Julia de Rossi. I wonder how they got involved in the fae world. It’s against the Law, of course, but members of the Unseelie Court don’t seem to concern themselves much with things like laws.
I hear an exclamation of surprise from the front, followed by a low voice. With a lurch, the car starts moving backward. I hold onto the door handle to stop myself from sliding across the seat. It’s my first time inside a car, and it seems like a clumsy and time-consuming method of transport to me. I’m glad I have faerie paths to travel by.
The lights and trees slide quickly by as the car gets going along the road. I look down at the mask in my lap. It’s a simple shape that covers only the eyes. The feathers protruding from the top remind me of the fashion monstrosity I created earlier. I place it over my face and tie the ribbons behind my head. I’ll try not to imagine myself as an ostrich.
Before long, we drive through a gate. I twist in my seat to look back and see the shape of a dragon sitting atop the two pillars that flank the gate. The car slows as we drive around a fountain and come to a stop in front of the main entrance to the mansion. A male faerie strides over and opens my door, then steps back as I climb out of the car. A look of confusion crosses his face as he sees Ryn getting out of the front. Oops. That’s obviously not the done thing around here.
“Darling, I’m so sorry,” says Ryn, coming toward me. “Let’s not fight anymore.” He places a hand on my waist and lightly kisses my cheek. I fight the urge to wriggle away from him, because Ryn kissing me is just plain weird. He links my arm through his as we walk up the stairway to the entrance, and it’s at that point that I realize just what we’re getting ourselves into. We’re willingly surrounding ourselves with enemies of both the Guild and the Seelie Court. If someone finds out who we really are, we may not come out of here.
“Don’t you dare panic,” mutters Ryn, as though sensing my nerves through my skin. “This is what you’re training to become. This is what real guardians do.”
I plaster a smile onto my face as we near the doorway. The faerie standing behind the lectern is chatting with a couple dressed all in black. “And don’t forget the no-magic rule, Mrs. Hawthorne,” he says.
The woman laughs. “There’s no way I could forget that rule. I was more than a little embarrassed last time when I tried to conjure up a glass of wine and that dreadful alarm went off.”
I squeeze Ryn’s arm and he nods. A magic alarm. Good thing I brought some real knives with. We step forward as the faerie holds his hand out for our invitation. “Mr. and Mrs. de Rossi, good evening.” He makes a mark with his stylus on the page in front of him, then fake-smiles at us. “I see you’ve dyed your hair in honor of the occasion.” He winks as Ryn’s arm tenses ever so slightly. “You’ll fit right in here.”
Crap. Our hair. I didn’t even think of that.
Before I can give the matter any further thought, we’re ushered through an entrance hall and into a crowded ballroom. My senses are immediately assaulted. Colors, feathers, sparkles. Masks of all shapes and sizes. Dresses made of flames, smoke, water. A hundred perfumes fill the air. Couples twirl in perfect unison about the dance floor. A string quartet, raised on a platform on one side of the room, plays a melody so irresistible that even I feel an instinctive urge to dance.
“Focus,” says Ryn. He touches the bracelet on my wrist. “Is Calla still in the same place?”
We casually wander around the edge of the room while I send my mind out to find the little girl. When I look through her eyes, I see the same room. She’s leaning against the door though. Listening. She can hear the music downstairs. “Yes. And she’s alone still. She’s alone every time I search for her.”
Ryn nods. “Makes sense.”
“What do you—” I stop. I stare. About ten people away from me, standing slightly taller than everyone else, and with no mask covering his face, is Nate.
The sudden flood of emotions that bombards me condenses into a physical pain. My heart, my lungs, my stomach. It all hurts.
Ryn turns back to me, pressing a hand to his chest. “What happened?” I can’t answer. I can’t breathe. All I can do is stare over his shoulder at the person I’d like to simultaneously hit, scream at, and wrap my arms around. Ryn follows my gaze. “Ah. I see.”
Nate’s expression is sullen. His arms are crossed over his chest as he surveys the ballroom. I watch as a girl walks up to him. She traces a finger down his arm. When she whispers in his ear, his expression softens. As she turns away from him, a sultry smile upon her lips, I recognize her. Scarlett.
Something boils inside me. How dare he? Is he with her? Without another thought, I set off in his direction. But I’ve barely taken two steps when Ryn grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms. “Not so fast, Pixie Sticks,” he says, gracefully spinning us into the crowd of dancers. “Can’t hav
e you rushing off after halfling boy. That would ruin the plan.”
Ryn’s right, of course. Which infuriates me even more. Dammit. Why does Nate have to be here? I was supposed to be able to forget about him tonight. And if he’s here, does that mean Zell’s here too?
“Did you love him?” asks Ryn.
My feet almost stop dancing. “What?”
“Did you love him? I mean, you didn’t know him for very long, but your reaction just now was pretty intense.”
I force my eyes over Ryn’s shoulder and decide not to answer. Maybe he’ll get the message and shut up.
“If I had to guess, I’d say no.” continues Ryn. “You’re not the kind of person to just randomly fall in love. You’re way too . . .”
My eyes shoot to his. “Too what?”
“Well, you know, emotionally closed off.”
“I will emotionally close off every orifice in your face if you don’t shut up about this right now.”
He laughs. “That doesn’t even make sense, V.”
I intentionally step on his foot. “Aren’t you meant to be focusing on something, Oryn?”
“I am focusing, V. I’ve been focusing this entire time. It’s called multitasking. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” I roll my eyes. “For instance, I’ve noticed that there are guards standing by certain doors leading out of this room. I’ve noticed that no one goes in or out of those doors. I’ve noticed that some of those guards become extremely distracted when a pretty girl dances past them. And . . . I’m currently noticing that someone important is coming down that large staircase. Must be the birthday boy himself.” Ryn spins me around so I can see who he’s talking about. My eyes lock onto the crimson-streaked hair, and my heart stops cold. I stumble over my own feet.
“Zell,” I whisper in horror.
Ryn says something, but I don’t hear it. The music fades and the dancers come to a halt. Zell starts speaking. Something about celebrations and special friends and a whole lot of blah, blah, blah that I can’t focus on because I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Zell is an Unseelie Prince? Seriously? I nearly died trying to escape this guy, and now I’ve walked right into his home? I look down at the floor in an attempt to conceal the lower half of my face. Thank goodness I’m short.
The music starts up, people begin moving again, and Ryn pulls me toward the edge of the room. He trips and bumps into a dancing couple, sending the girl flying. The nearest guard springs into action to catch her. While everyone’s attention is on the girl, Ryn and I slip through the now unguarded door.
We hurry along the corridor and out of sight before Ryn stops and faces me. He pulls his mask off. “You know that guy? The Unseelie Prince?”
“Yeah. He’s after me.” I remove my own mask. “You know, because I can find people. At least, I think that’s why he wants me.” I look down at the floor and add quietly, “He’s the one Nate handed me over to inside the mountain.”
“How does he even know what you can do?”
“I don’t know. He somehow knew there was someone at the Guild who could find people. I think Nate told him it’s me.”
Ryn sighs. “Okay, let’s just find Calla and get out of here.”
I swivel the bracelet around my wrist and send my mind out. Nothing. I swallow, take a deep breath, and try again. Still nothing. No no no. Come on, there has to be something. But there isn’t. “I . . . I’m not sensing anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t sense her. I’m getting nothing.”
I can see the panic in Ryn’s eyes. “So what does that mean? Is she asleep?”
“No. I can still sense people when they’re sleeping.”
“So?” He grabs my shoulders. “What, Violet? Tell me.”
“Um . . . I think it might mean . . .” I can’t say it. I can’t tell Ryn that I think his sister is dead. I don’t even know how to get the words out.
I don’t have to though, because he figures it out. “No.” He shakes his head. “They wouldn’t kill her. They wouldn’t. It makes no sense.” He steps away from me. “Try it again.”
I try, but it’s still no use. I can’t feel her at all. It’s just like when I lost Nate in the labyrinth. Except . . . it turned out Nate was still alive. “Perhaps she isn’t dead,” I say. “Perhaps she’s being magically concealed or something.”
“Magically concealed? Is that even possible?”
“I don’t know. I—”
“She isn’t dead. She can’t be.” He turns on his heel and heads down the corridor.
“Where are you going?”
“To find that room you saw her in.”
“Wait, Ryn, you don’t even know which way to go.” I hurry after him, trying not to trip over my skirt.
He stops. “Do you? Can you find the room even if she isn’t in it anymore?”
“I—I think so. I’ve searched for Calla so many times today that I could probably find that room just by the memory of what it feels like.”
“Okay, so do it.”
I lift the bottom of my skirt and start walking. It’s a strange thing, following the scent of a thought. A memory. A feeling. It’s like a pull. Like gravity, in a way. You can close your eyes and spin yourself every which way you please, but when you stop you can still feel which way is up and which is down.
We travel along passageways, up staircases, through rooms, and into more passageways. We have to hide twice. First behind a wall hanging, and then behind a couch in a small library. Ryn doesn’t say a word, but I can tell he’s close to desperate. He’s holding a knife that must have been hidden on his body somewhere, and I know he won’t hesitate to use it on anyone who tries to stop him.
“I think it’s down here,” I say as we enter a wider corridor. “Um . . . this one. No—” I move to the next door “—this one.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, it’s definitely this one.”
Ryn tries the handle; the door opens easily. Not a good sign. Slowly, he pushes the door all the way back to reveal the room. There is no light other than the gleam of the moon through the window, so I smell it before I see it. Blood. A pool of it on the wooden floor, smeared by tiny handprints. And on the bed, a small, rumpled jersey.
There’s no Calla.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ryn’s hands start to shake. He makes a strangled noise that sounds like ‘no’. His knife clatters onto the floor, and his hands tug at his hair.
My brain takes in the evidence and searches desperately for a different conclusion. Perhaps it isn’t her blood. Or if it is, perhaps she’s wounded and not dead. But that’s a whole lot more blood than a small child can afford to lose, and coupled with the fact that I can no longer sense her . . . Well, I’m struggling to come to any conclusion other than the one Ryn has clearly arrived at. He picks up the jersey from the bed and presses it to his face. His shoulders begin to shake.
I saw my father cry once, after we received the news that Reed had died. There was something terrifying about his tears. I had only ever known him as strong and fearless, and it scared me to realize that some things existed that could break him.
That’s what it’s like to see Ryn cry. It’s wrong. He’s supposed to be the mean guy. The guy who’s easy to hate. The guy I casually throw insults at because I know nothing I say or do can penetrate the armor he’s built up around himself. Witnessing his heartbreak just doesn’t feel right.
He stumbles around to the other side of the bed and slides down with his back against it. His shoulders continue to shake as he buries his face in his hands. I squeeze my eyelids shut over the tears threatening to form. Part of me wants to leave Ryn alone with his grief, but another part of me feels a sudden and unexpected urge to comfort him. I want to say something, but for the life of me I can’t think what. What could I possibly say that will make this any better?
I quietly close the door behind me before walking toward him. I go slowly, as though approaching a dangerous animal.
I touch his shoulder, expecting him to throw me off and begin yelling at me. Tell me this is all my fault somehow. But he doesn’t move. I sit down on the floor beside him—a challenging task, given the size of my skirt—and slide my arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. To my great surprise, he leans into me, burying his face in my neck as the shuddering of his shoulders continues. I tense for a moment, then relax and put my other arm around him.
*
Around about the time one of my legs starts falling asleep, Ryn pulls away from me, as though suddenly realizing exactly who it is he’s leaning against. He tilts his head back against the bed. I wait for him to say something, but he remains silent. Has he fallen asleep? I can’t tell if his eyes are closed without looking at him, and I don’t want to look at him because I feel awkward enough as it is without adding eye contact into the mix.
So I wait. And while I wait, my thoughts find their way back to Nate. Nate, Zell and Scarlett. Nate knows Zell, and Nate knows Scarlett. But now it appears Zell and Scarlett also know each other. Perhaps the ‘boss’ Scarlett referred to was Zell, and he was the one watching Nate. Or it could just be that Scarlett is the date Nate brought along to the ball tonight. The thought makes me want to break something.
Ryn’s breathing has settled into a steady rhythm, suggesting he’s fallen asleep. I shake my head. Did it not cross his mind that perhaps we should get out of here first and then take a nap? I idly twist Calla’s bracelet around my arm and wonder how long I should wait before I wake him up. I need to get him out of here quickly so he can’t do something insane like publicly confront Zell about Calla’s death. Which leads me to another thought: Why did Zell kidnap Ryn’s little sister in the first place? Was it even Zell? Maybe he doesn’t know what’s going on underneath his own—
In a flash, I’m seeing through Calla’s eyes. She’s running down a dark, stone passageway. Someone is chasing her. She rounds a corner and runs smack into a large man.
“What the hell?” He grabs her. “How did she get out?”
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