by Wendi Wilson
I held Easton back with an arm across his chest, keeping a respectable distance between us and Puck. Despite my Glamour being effective, Robin Goodman was a very old, very powerful faery. I was sure he would sense our presence if we got too close, despite the absence of sound.
Puck ground to halt, and Easton and I froze in our tracks. He lifted his face toward the treetops and seemed to smell the air around him. He turned to his left, visibly sniffing, then propped his hands on his hips.
“I know you’re there. Show yourself to me,” he called out.
My heart stuttered in my chest, then beat to a fast, staccato rhythm that had me panting in fear. We were busted, and my mission to out Puck as a traitor and all-around bad guy was over before it even started. Sensing my panic, Easton pressed a hand to my back and pulled me into his chest, then moved us behind a wide tree.
“Come on, Stark. I don’t have time for your games and intrigues.”
My heart rate accelerated even more as I realized he hadn’t been talking to us. He was meeting someone. Someone not affiliated with Oberon Academy. Alone. In the middle of the woods.
This was it.
I leaned to the side, peeking around the trunk we hid behind. My eyes bugged out and my breathing stopped when a Zephyr stepped out from behind a tree. I stared at his black hair, his black eyes, and his black wings in disbelief. In all my imaginings, all my internal theories about Puck’s duplicitous motives, I didn’t expect this.
Sure, his lessons seemed to lean toward pro-Zephyr sentiments, but I just assumed he’d was propagating dissidence within the school, not actually working with the dark Fae. But proof was standing just a few feet away with arms crossed over a broad chest.
“What have you to report?” the Zephyr asked.
Stark. That’s what Puck had called him. I made a mental note to remember the name.
“I’ve succeeded in making the students second-guess everything they’ve been taught. Confusion breeds chaos, and soon the turmoil will provide the perfect distraction for the queen to make her move.”
I gasped, but luckily my Glamour held and neither Fae seemed to hear me. I tilted my head, resting it against the rough bark. This was bad. Really, really bad.
“And the girl?” Stark asked, and my attention snapped back to the pair.
A leonine smile curved Puck’s lips.
“I’ve begun the process of isolating her. My granddaughter has proven to be a great tool. Shaela adores her Grandad, and every negative word the girl utters about me pushes the wedge further between them. I’ve guaranteed that all of her words concerning me are negative,” he answers with a dark chuckle.
“You need to double your efforts and accelerate the timeline. Queen Sebille grows weary of the wait.”
Puck nodded, saying, “Consider it done.”
With a bend of the knees and a flap of the wings, Stark shot straight up between a gap in the tree branches, disappearing from sight. My eyes lingered on the branches, still bare from their winter’s shed. I was breathing fast and hard and barely heard Puck’s voice over the breath sawing in and out of my lungs.
“You can come out, now. I know you’re there.”
My eyes locked with Easton’s as we simultaneously froze, each of us holding our breath.
“Come along Ms. Thorne. Mr. Oberon. I do not like to be kept waiting.”
His imperious tone struck a nerve inside me, filling me with indignation. Puck was the one committing the wrong, not us. I took Easton’s hand and, dropping the sound-barrier Glamour, stepped out from behind the tree.
“How could you?” I asked, my voice filled with equal parts accusation and disbelief.
“How could I what?” he mused, stepping toward us. “How could I have a private meeting with another faery?”
He put special emphasis on the word private, like Easton and I were the ones in the wrong. I narrowed my eyes and Easton’s grip on my hand tightened. I knew without looking at him that it was a warning. Robin Goodman was a threat despite his light-hearted disposition.
“Or how could I plot against the Sylphids with Queen Sebille?” he continued when we didn’t speak. “That, my dears, is none of your business. And you would do well to never speak of this again.”
I barked out a cynical laugh. “You can’t be serious. We are going to tell everyone what we saw. You’ll be gone by morning, banished again. Hopefully, this time, forever.”
“And how do you think young Shaela will react to your part in my supposed banishment?” he countered. “She would never forgive you. She’d be lost to you, for good. Is my downfall worth the love of your best friend?”
Though his words struck a chord of fear inside me, I held firm.
“I’m prepared to make sacrifices for the greater good,” I stated.
His laughter echoed off the trees around us. “The greater good, indeed. And what of you, young prince? Are you willing to risk your popularity by slandering my reputation?”
“It’s not slander if it’s true,” Easton gritted out between clenched teeth.
“Oh, ho! Now, there lies the crux of the situation. If it’s true. Where is your proof?”
“We just saw you with him,” I accused. “With Stark. We heard your plans. Once we tell Finn, it’s over. He’ll believe us, proof or not.”
“Perhaps,” Puck said, tapping a finger against his lips, “but it is not only Finn you must convince. The council will be—how should I phrase this?—less receptive to the word of a half-Zephyr girl who lied to them for months about her heritage and the identity of her father.”
“The council will believe me,” Easton cut in.
“Ah, yes, the young prince. So in love with the hybrid, he’d do anything for her. Sure, they might believe you. But, then again, maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll revoke your claim to the throne and appoint a new successor to King Oberon.”
“You mean, like you?” I spat, and a vicious smile curved his lips.
“Now that you mention it…” he said, his words trailing off suggestively. Then he waved a hand in the air. “But that is neither here nor there. You two will not be speaking a word of this night, so the point is moot.”
“Are you threatening us?” Easton demanded, his voice as sharp as a knife.
“Of course, I would not deign to threaten the crown prince,” Puck replied, laying a palm against his chest. “But hear this—if you pursue this course of action and try to defame my character, you will be setting into motion a series of events that cannot be stopped. Shaela will be lost to you, forever. I am sure you are aware of my…powers of persuasion. Do not doubt the sway I hold over her.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.
“That is not all, my dearest December. I know that your father resides here still, and that your training with him continues. Should I notify the council of this fact, not only will he be ousted, you will be expelled for disobeying them and Finn will be punished for allowing it. He could pay for his crime with his crown…or with his life.”
He looked from me to Easton, knowing that last bit would ensnare the prince. Easton would never do anything to endanger his grandfather. Never.
With a tip of his head and a salute, Puck turned on a heel and stalked away. No more words needed to be said. Our mission was destroyed, our plans paralyzed. There was nothing we could do to touch him.
We were defeated by the trickster. Outmaneuvered and outplayed. It was over.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
18
Easton and I were equally silent as we made our way out of the woods. While I wallowed in disappointment, I could see by his aura that he was steeped in worry. Worry for his grandfather, no doubt. Despite using his knowledge as leverage against us, Puck could go to the council at any time and get Finn into trouble for harboring my father.
That, coupled with his influence over Shaela and the threats against my father were too much. We were stuck between a rock and a hard place with nowhere left to go. It was a litt
le bit devastating.
With a peck on the cheek and a promise to talk to him later, I dashed away from Easton as soon as we entered the building. I knew he’d want to stay with me, to comfort me however he could, but I just wanted to be alone for a while. I needed time to process and, hopefully, regroup.
I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling with my rabbit Blossom on my stomach, when Shaela showed up. She blew in like a tornado, the door slamming into the wall and bouncing back, nearly hitting her. Her hand flew up and she caught it just in time. Blossom skittered off me and burrowed under my blanket.
“What did you do?” she asked, her tone more accusatory than inquisitive.
“What do you mean?” I responded, sitting up to face her.
“I just saw my grandfather,” she explained, “and he was really upset. He said your name, then he cut himself off and refused to say another word. So I repeat—what did you do?”
That son of a bitch.
“Shaela—”
“Save it,” she said, cutting me off. “It doesn’t matter. Just hear me now. If you are really my friend, you’ll drop this vendetta, or whatever it is, you have against him. He knows he messed up at the Valentine’s dance, okay? He realizes he should have handled things differently. You need to practice a little forgiveness and let it go. For all of our sakes.”
I bit my tongue, hard, against the words that wanted to spew from my mouth. Any denial from me, any attempt to get her to see the truth about the man she reveres would only backfire right in my face. When I nodded and promised to try, she visibly relaxed.
“I just came to gather some things. Grandad asked me to spend a few days with him in his suite. He has some old photos and keepsakes he said I could go through to see if there’s anything I want.”
“And you have to stay there for days to do that?” I asked before I could restrain myself. At Shaela’s harsh glare, I held up my palms in surrender and said, “Sorry. I’ll just miss you, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well, maybe some time apart will do us some good,” she said, zipping up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder. “We both need a little perspective.”
I just nodded even though my mind was screaming bloody murder. Time apart? I’d barely seen her since that man showed up at the academy. Perspective? Shaela was the one who needed perspective. And she’d only get it with time apart from Puck, not me.
She gave me a little wave and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her. It was a vast contradiction to her entrance, and left me feeling a little bit devastated. Her anger and passion showed me she cared. The sudden detachment following her tirade felt…off. It felt like the beginning of the end.
I reached under the blanket and pulled Blossom out of her hiding spot. After stroking her soft fur, I put her back in her cage and turned toward the door. The air in the room felt thick, and I had to get out of there before I suffocated. I needed Easton.
I’d barely taken a step when a knock sounded on the wood. I strode forward and pulled open the door, meeting the ice-blue gaze of my boyfriend. He held up a paper bag and jiggled it.
“I was just coming to find you,” I said, moving aside to let him in the room.
“I was leaving the dining hall when I saw Shaela storm through. She had a bag and a pissed off expression, so I assumed things didn’t go very well between the two of you.” He held up the bag again. “I figured you could tell me what happened over a plate of fried chicken.”
Despite my anger and feeling of hopelessness, a smile tugged at my lips at his thoughtfulness. Easton knew I needed to talk and came, bringing along a bag of my favorite food to cheer me up. He really was the best.
After spreading a blanket on the floor and divvying up the chicken, I told him what happened with Shaela. He was empathetic and sweet, assuring me that she’d come around. That we’d find a way to bring her back to us.
“He was proving a point,” I said, my eyes glossing over as I stared at my hands. “He wanted me to see what kind of control he has. That just by uttering my name, he could devastate my relationship with her. What can we possibly do, Easton? We can’t touch him.”
“Maybe if we get her away from his influence—”
“He’ll never let that happen,” I said interrupting him. “Until he’s done with…whatever his long term goal is, he’ll keep her under his thumb. He knows she’s the key to keeping me in line.”
“And my weakness is my grandfather.”
“Yes,” I said, my shoulders drooping. “For now, we have no other choice but to keep our heads down and our mouths shut.”
“That really sucks.”
“I agree. But it doesn’t mean that we have to give up. We just have to make him think we’re going along with him. We could still find a way to outsmart him. I know we can.”
Easton smiled and nodded in agreement, but I wasn’t sure he really believed it. Hell, I wasn’t sure I really believed it. Maybe they were just words meant make him, and myself, feel better. I knew I had to try, regardless. We might not best Robin Goodman, but if we didn’t at least attempt to thwart him, we’d already failed.
“What should we do now?” he asked once we finished eating. “We could go practice sparring in the gym.”
“I don’t really feel like it,” I said, unable to keep the melancholy from my voice.
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Do you think we should tell Finn what’s going on? He’d know what to do.”
Easton shook his head, his eyes wide with panic.
“We can’t, D. I have no doubt that he’d confront Puck and tell the council, regardless of the consequences to himself. If that happens, Puck will tell them everything. They’ll banish Finn and your father. And most likely you, as well. That’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”
“Even if it saves the school?”
“That’s just the thing. It won’t. Nearly everyone that opposes Robin Goodman will be gone, and he’ll have free reign to do whatever he wants. He could destroy this place and ensure the war to the Zephyrs.”
“I know you’re right,” I said. “I just wish there were something we could do.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he replied, pushing himself up and holding out a hand to help me to my feet.
He led me to the bed and pulled me down onto it with him, snuggling me against his chest. We lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, with no words and no space between us, until we fell asleep. It was exactly what I needed. Easton, too.
It felt like us against the world. And the odds were stacked against us.
Chapter Eighty-Eight
19
The next morning, I skipped history and went straight to my dad’s room. I’d talked to Easton over breakfast, and he’d agreed that it would be okay to talk to Cris about Puck. I just had to make him promise not to do or say anything that might force Robin’s hand.
After I explained everything, curses spewed from Cris’s mouth as he paced the floor of his room. His face was red and his blue eyes swirled with darkness, soon turning to their natural, black color. He ran a hand through his hair, which was morphing from reddish-blonde to black, and pierced me with a harsh stare.
“He’s working with her. That’s how he knew who I was to her, and to you. She sent him here to wreak havoc and further her own cause. He’s nothing more than a lackey.”
Sebille. That’s who he meant, and as mind-blowing as it was, he was right. That Stark guy had mentioned Sebille by name.
“Stark said she’s tired of waiting.”
“Did you stay Stark?” he asked, his face paling.
“Yeah, that’s what Puck called him,” I replied. “Why? Do you know him?”
“I do,” he said, nodding. “He was second-in-command to Elias, and twice as vicious. Since you killed Elias, he’s probably taken over the army.”
“Do you think he’s here for vengeance?”
Cris laughed, but it came out humorless and full of bitterness. “For Elias? No. There
was no love lost between them and Stark would probably thank you for handing him control. But he will do anything for Sebille. He would never admit it out loud, but he’s in love with her. You need to be careful.”
“I will,” I promised, his comment about love reminding me of something. “Hey, Easton told me the Fae marry for life, and that if they separate for too long, they will grow weak and eventually die.”
“You’re not thinking of getting married, are you?” he asked, his face turning a little green as his hair and eyes shifted back to their Glamoured colors.
“Ha, ha,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “No, I was thinking of Puck, actually. Shaela said after he was ousted from the school, he moved to a small village and married her grandmother. They had a child, Shaela’s father, but then he disappeared from their lives. How is he still alive, and so strong, if he left his wife?”
“There are any number of ways to work around that particular law of nature,” he said, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Puck could have Glamoured her to believe they were bound by marriage, when they really weren’t. Or if the ceremony was true, he could visit her regularly and Glamour her to forget. He could even sneak in at night and just sleep next to her, with no one the wiser. And that’s just off the top of my head. I’m sure there are many other ways straying Fae have managed to stay alive and gain their freedom at the same time.”
I thought for a moment, then asked, “But what about Shaela’s grandmother? How would she rationalize her continued health if she didn’t know Puck was visiting her?”
“That, I don’t know. Is she still alive?”
I hadn’t even considered that Shaela’s grandmother might be dead.
“Is the marriage bond broken with the death of one of the partners?”
“Yes,” Cris replied. “With the Fae, the term ‘til death, do us part is quite literal.”
“If she is dead, I bet Puck killed her to escape the bond,” I muttered.