Illusions: Faction 4: The Isa Fae Collection

by Jade Kerrion

  “Grimaldi’s right,” Tristan said, startling everyone with his apparent agreement. “It isn’t about math. It’s about commitment—there is none! No one is stepping forward but we know there is more than enough magic out there. La Condamine is home to some of the most powerful fae and witches in Isa Fae. If we cannot find the magic to break the barrier, who can?”

  Grimaldi’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You cannot make the people risk their lives for a dream. A delusion.”

  “A delusion!” Tristan scoffed. “Can you believe the nerve—?”

  Varian held up his hand. Who appointed him the peacemaker? He grimaced. Just another part of the job description I didn’t know I was signing up for when I became prince.

  Grimaldi refused to rise to Tristan’s bait. He turned to Conrad. “And what about you, Conrad?”

  Conrad responded with a smirk.

  Tristan turned on Conrad. “You want this to fail. No… you want it to succeed, but you want Varian to die trying.”

  “Enough,” Varian ordered. “He didn’t ask to be my heir.”

  Conrad shrugged. “There is no scenario in which you come out ahead. Instead, you’ll drag tens…hundreds of people down with you. Even if it works, the spell will kill you.” His smirk turned into a sneer. “But since you’re so set on it, I’ll make plans to move into the palace. It could use a bit of redecorating, especially this room. I’d get rid of the old relics first, mostly people—”

  Grimaldi’s fisted hands trembled on the table. “This is treason!”

  “It’s treason to state the facts you’ve been yelling at him for the past week? I’m not leading a rebellion. I don’t have to, not when he’s doing such a spectacular job of planning his pointless suicide.”

  The old fae shot to his feet and fixed Varian with a pained stare. “I beg you, your highness. Put this foolishness aside. Your greater responsibility is to La Condamine. You cannot let this poppycock take over.” He looked at Tristan. “Surely you see this too!”

  The muscles around Tristan’s mouth hardened. “Some men are called to rule. Others are called to greater purpose.”

  The other members of the council rose to their feet, shouting. Madame Defarge, however, remained seated in her place of honor to Varian’s left. She glanced at him and without raising her voice, asked, “Why are you doing this?”

  Perhaps it was the absence of accusation in her tone or her apparent willingness to listen. Varian drew a deep breath as he stood. He said nothing, but one by one, the fae and witches glanced in his direction and fell silent.

  When the only sounds in the room were the cracking of flames in the fireplace and the rustling of the council members in their seats, he drew a deep breath. “I’m in love.”

  The restless shuffling froze into thunderstruck silence.

  He glanced down briefly before meeting their eyes, a wry smile on his lips. “I fell in love, but there will be no wedding bells. Her life was ruined by fae; I do not know if she can love one. Witches are protected, if not necessarily privileged, here in La Condamine, but elsewhere, they’re treated as little more than atern vessels, abused, raped—men and women—for the magic they possess. I could marry her, protect and love her, and with her by my side, make La Condamine a happy, golden place under our cold sun, but nothing we do here will change what happens in the rest of Isa Fae.”

  Varian stepped away from his seat to pace the room. His gaze rested on each council member in turn. “The other factions say La Condamine is different. It is smaller, the people less fractious and easier to rule, the problems less complex. Perhaps it’s true; regardless, they will dismiss any example we set. Nothing will change the lives of witches unless magic returns to Isa Fae. Unless the barrier is shattered.

  “And that’s what I intend to do. For her, for her people. The best and only way to protect what I love—not just for one lifetime but for generations to follow—is to show that there is a way out of the winter.”

  Fourteen faces stared at him. Glimmers of grudging understanding appeared on a scant handful. The council did not support him, but it did not matter.

  He would proceed. There was no other choice. He would have to find the magic he needed from the people of La Condamine.

  One way or another.

  Chapter 9

  The doorbell of Nithya’s store chimed yet again. She stifled a sigh. Was she not going to get any of her design work done today? Fixing a smile on her face, she looked up at her newest customer, a pale-faced witch who had her hand clasped over her atern bracelet. “I need an illusion,” the witch said in a hushed voice. “It’s urgent.”

  “This way.” Nithya led the way to her private sanctum downstairs, leaving the store in her assistant Lydia’s capable hands. “Up or down, and how much?”

  “Down. Down. As far down as you can go without making it look unrealistic.”

  Nithya studied the witch’s brightly glowing atern bracelet. “It’s going to be expensive. Ten percent—”

  “I know. Take it. Quickly.”

  Nithya’s gaze swept over the witch’s anxious face before returning to the bracelet. She murmured the spell as she moved the palm of her hand over the witch’s bracelet. Heat infused her hand as the price of the illusion transferred seamlessly. The illusion solidified and locked around the bracelet. Its glow faded.

  The witch released her breath in a shuddering sigh. Relief passed over her face. “Thank you. You’ve saved my life.”

  Nithya glanced down at her gray bracelet. It was slightly brighter than usual. All of the magic paid for her services that day was pushing through the powerful illusion she wore over her own bracelet. She whispered a spell to tighten the illusion, and the bracelet was once again cool, steel gray.

  The female witch stood. “Now, I have to get back home before the officials come by for the count.”

  “What count?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Officials from the palace are going from door to door, arresting witches and fae with bright atern bracelets.”

  “What?” Nithya’s jaw dropped. She had an unusually large number of customers that day—almost as many as she saw in half a year—and all of them wanted their magic count lowered. They had then scurried out as quickly as they had arrived. Nithya, her thoughts focused on the finishing touches for Princess Sabine’s pendant, had not been curious enough to wonder why.

  “The officials are taking the witches and fae to the palace.” The witch’s voice cracked. “They’re going to be used to channel the prince’s spell.”

  Varian? “I don’t believe it.”

  “They took my sister from her school. She’s only sixteen. They took more than half her class.” The witch swiped a hand across her eyes. “What am I going to tell my mother?”

  A knock sounded. Lydia’s voice was muffled through the closed door. “Two more customers to see you, and there are several more browsing upstairs who look like they’re waiting to talk to you.”

  The witch stood, a wan smile on her face. “You’re going to be busy today.”

  The steady flow of traffic into Nithya’s store did not abate until late into the night. By then, her fingertips tingled and her head spun as if she had consumed gallons of wine.

  “Are you all right?” Lydia asked softly.

  “Yes, it’s just been a long day.” Nithya looked up wearily. “Is the city still in an uproar?”

  “Yes. The guards sealed the city gates. Apparently, they’ve locked down the borders too. No one is leaving La Condamine until the prince has his way.”

  “But that’s insane. It’s not like him to do something so vicious, so tyrannical. I wonder—” Terror fisted its icy grip around her heart. “Ariel—” She shot to her feet and hurried to the door. “Can you lock up tonight? Put up a sign that I’ll be open at dawn.”

  She ran down the icy sidewalks, slipping and sliding past people who huddled in cloaks, their shoulders hunched as if trying to shrink beneath notice. Panic babbled behind closed doors, but the str
eets were largely silent as the people hid from their own prince.

  Not Nithya. She ran up the driveway of Chateau Grimaldi and pounded on the massive oak doors until they opened. Lord Grimaldi’s footmen wore stricken expressions as they admitted her. “The lord is in his study,” one of them said quietly.

  “And Ariel?”

  The fae lowered his gaze. “Lady Ariel was taken to the palace this morning.”

  The light of the moon christened the palace courtyard with a silver glow, but shadows slithered in dark corners and the silence was like a shroud. Nithya’s footsteps cracked the thin layer of ice that had formed over the stone steps leading to the palace’s side door.

  She tested the handle, but the door was locked. A loud knock, however, summoned a guard. “I’m here to see Lady Ariel,” she said, half expecting the door to be slammed in her face.

  The door opened wider, however. The same guard who had admitted Ariel and Nithya on the day of the prince’s speech stepped aside to let her in. “I’ll show you to her suite.” His face betrayed his distress. “I’m sorry about what’s happening.”

  “You don’t support what the prince is doing.”

  “Most of us don’t.” His mouth quivered.

  “Then why are you obeying him?”

  “Because he’s our prince, and as palace guards, we are bound by law—”

  “To do stupid, wrong things just because he says so?”

  “I don’t know what to trust…who to believe. The prince trained with us. He’s one of us. He’s not like this.”

  Once, I thought the same. “Where’s Ariel?”

  “She’s in a suite in the eastern wing. The prince’s treating his prisoners well. Everyone has a comfortable bed, good food—”

  “He’s fattening them up like pigs for slaughter?” Nithya asked caustically.

  The guard shook his head. “I don’t understand. This is not like him,” he said, apparently too shocked to do anything besides repeat himself. “Come, I’ll take you to her.”

  The corridors, too, were empty; the usual bustle of servants and retainers slowed to a trickle. “Where’s everyone?”

  “Staying out of the prince’s way. Just in case.” The guard paused in front of a large door and knocked softly. “Lady Ariel, a guest for you.”

  The door opened, and Ariel peeked out. “Nithya!” She flung herself into her friend’s arms, her shoulders shaking hard.

  “Shhh…I’m here.” Nithya closed the door and held Ariel until her friend’s sobs faded into soft hiccups. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “The guards came in the morning while we were having breakfast. They were polite and so afraid. They said the prince was inviting me for an extended stay at the palace. Daddy understood immediately what was going on, and he ordered them out, but they would not leave, not without me, not without a fight, and they outnumbered our household guards.”

  “They didn’t take your father, too?”

  “I’ve heard that none of the council members were taken. People are saying they’ve colluded with the prince, and that in exchange for their support, he’s sparing them, but I know Daddy wouldn’t do that.”

  Nithya ground her teeth. “Varian’s sparing them because he needs them to run the country after he dies, taking a huge chunk of the population with him.”

  “I don’t want to die.” Ariel’s voice broke. She wrung her fingers. “I’m not ready.”

  “Have you spoken to him?”

  “The prince?” Ariel shook her head. “No, not yet.”

  “But you’re friends. How can he do this to you?”

  “I don’t know. This isn’t like Varian.”

  Nithya was tired of hearing how it wasn’t like Varian. “I don’t give a damn about his past record. All that matters is what he’s doing now. Where can I find him?”

  “His study is in the western wing, where we saw him the other day. Are you going to talk to him?”

  “Yes, and you should come, too.”

  “I can’t leave this room.”

  Nithya frowned. “But the door is not even locked.”

  “He magically sealed the threshold. I can’t cross it.”

  Damn it, Varian. What the hell are you doing? Nithya rose. “I’ll find him. I’ll talk him out of this madness.”

  “I don’t know if you can. Varian’s implacable. Unshakeable. He always was, even as a child. But this—” Ariel shook her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Even he’s got to understand it cannot possibly work, not without killing everyone he draws into his spell.”

  Didn’t he? Varian did not strike her as stupid. Driven, certainly, with a vision and passion few people understood or appreciated, but not stupid. So why?

  Nithya found her way easily to the western wing and the antechamber in front of Varian’s study. Light flickered beneath the door. Shadows moved back and forth across the line of light.

  She flung the door open without knocking.

  Varian glanced up sharply, the surprise in his gaze flattening into irritation. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to visit Ariel, or are prisoners not supposed to have visitors?”

  “She’s not a prisoner.”

  “You’ve magically sealed the threshold of her suite. Explain to me how that is different from the bars of a cell, other than the fact that it’s less of an eyesore.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand perfectly. You’re worse than a tyrant. You’re a megalomaniac. You want your fame, your glory—to hell with anyone who gets in your way.”

  “You know nothing about what’s going on.”

  “Why don’t you fill me in, or am I below your notice?” She shook her gray atern bracelet at him.

  “I know you’re worried about Ariel—”

  “I’m worried about Ariel and the tens…hundreds…of people you’ve arrested today. Are they just numbers to you? The streets are empty. The houses are dark.” She flung her arm out at the city. “Out there, your people are hiding from you.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “Do you think I’m doing this for me? Who’s going to benefit from this? The people of La Condamine. Every single person in La Condamine,” he emphasized each word in his sentence. “What we do here will ripple out. The other factions will realize that they don’t have to slowly suffocate beneath the barrier. They don’t have to—”

  He coughed with such force that he sagged against the desk.

  “Varian!” She stepped forward to help him but he forestalled her with a raised hand.

  Not infectious, he had told her, as Dace. So why wouldn’t he let her help him? Stupid, stubborn, bastard.

  The wet, tearing sound wrenched at her, and the dull ache in her chest twisted into a sharp pain when she saw bright crimson on the hand he used to cover his mouth.

  He was coughing up blood. Did anyone know this?

  Servants did not come running. No one entered his study.

  The coughing fit continued, unabated, for several minutes, and by the time it finally released its grip on him, he was pale and unsteady. His shoulders heaved with each shallow breath he tried to pull into his lungs. He wiped his hand on a handkerchief before reaching for a small sachet in his desk, which he poured into a glass of water.

  He drank slowly, pausing to inhale between each mouthful.

  He was careful not to meet her gaze.

  Nithya rolled her eyes. Injured male pride. “Are you all right?” she asked softly, grateful that her lowered tone concealed the shrill edge of her fear.

  “It’s just a cough. It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t sound good.”

  Varian shrugged it off. “I’ve had it for many years.” An ironic smile curved his lips. “It hasn’t killed me yet.”

  “That’s because you’re determined to do it yourself.”

  His head snapped up. A furrow set between his eyes, and the muscles clenched in his smooth cheek. “I have a lot to get done;
I don’t have time to argue. Isa Fae’s magical winter can end, and it’s time someone went after the cause, instead of trying to fix the symptoms by exploiting witches—”

  “Exploiting witches?” Her mouth dropped open. “You’re no different from anyone else, twisting it around so that we’re to blame.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Don’t justify your tyranny by saying you’re doing this for the witches. We both know it’s an excuse!”

  “What do you know?” Varian shouted. He stalked up to her. “You don’t know anything about me but you’ve decided I’m a tyrant. You come in here, hurling accusations—”

  “Accusations? They are facts!” She had to tilt her head back to glare up at him. “You took my friend from her home. You’re going to force her to spend her magic, her life to serve your interest, to establish your glory, and you’re acting like I’ve insulted you?”

  Their eyes locked—brilliant emerald green against fathomless black.

  Power and pain.

  The balance tilted toward pain.

  Their faces were so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. His lips were inches from hers.

  Her heart thudded. In an instant, rage blinked into desire. He’s going to kiss me… He leaned closer, as if drawn by a force he could not resist. His hand caressed her cheek, tilting her chin up.

  For a moment, their lips drew upon the same breath of air, sharing it.

  Her heart skidded into a slow, breath-stealing loop. I’m in love. But when had that happened? Her lips parted into a half-smile. Varian…

  Had she thought his name, or spoken it aloud?

  He released her so abruptly and took a step back so quickly that the sudden absence of his body heat shocked her. He blinked hard, shook his head, and the fleeting glimpse of vulnerability and despair in his eyes vanished.

  Varian was once again a prince isolated by his power and driven by a purpose no one understood.

  He turned away from her. “You should leave. I have real work to do, and I’ve no time for you.”