by Alex Rivers
“Home,” I repeated, staring out the window at the park rushing past us.
“My manor, I mean.”
“Right. The Taranis Manor.” If Roan and I were supposed to be together forever, it would be my home, too. Mistress of Taranis Manor. Like Roan, the whole manor was still a bit of a mystery to me. Could I live so removed from the human realm, in a world of ancient blood feuds and soulmates, where love and vengeance bound people for centuries? And more than that—could I really live in a situation where I had to guard my thoughts or risk unleashing the Wrath of Taranis on the human realm? I couldn’t even imagine the guilt I’d have to live with if one of my unguarded thoughts led to a pre-emptive human slaughter. It would kill me.
The skies had clouded over, and rain pattered against the window. I traced a drop down the glass. “How long do pixies live for?”
Roan’s eyebrows raised. “The king banished pixies from our realms centuries ago. Before that, I believe pixies lived as long as the fae. But when they live among humans, their lives are shortened. No longer than human lives.” His tone sounded as if he were delivering news of a terminal illness and not a normal eighty-year lifespan.
I bit my lip. “So, if I stayed with you, I could live for thousands of years.” Thousands of years for me to betray human secrets to Roan.
“That’s right.” For just a moment, he reached out and touched my knee. “You did an amazing job back there.”
“Thanks.”
“So why do I sense sadness from you?”
My fingers tightened into fists. “Please stop telling me how you’re sensing my emotions. It hardly seems fair. My innermost feelings are an open book to you, and I get nothing from you. Absolutely nothing!”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious. Did you sense my pixie anger to come to that conclusion?” My nerves were still frayed from the rage-fest inside. “Ever since I came here, everyone can tell what I’m feeling. You most of all.”
“I can’t help that, Cassandra.”
“No, you can’t.” A tense second stretched between us. “But you also saw all my memories when we bonded, while you keep things from me. You can’t control what you sense, but you can control what you tell me. You can start filling me in about your own feelings so it’s not entirely one-sided. Right now, I have to guess. Does he feel guilty about something? Does he wish Elrine was his soulmate and not me? I have no idea.”
“I don’t wish Elrine was my soulmate,” he shot back, and then took a deep breath. “Right. I was supposed to tell you about her.”
I crossed my arms. Okay, maybe we were getting to the real source of my irritation. “That would be a good start. You tell me that we’re bound to each other for eternity, then you keep hiding yourself away in her room. You act like lovers, whispering and conspiring, making plans you don’t trust me with.”
“I trust you with my life.”
I swallowed hard. “Then why are you leaving me in the dark?”
“Look, Elrine and I are not lovers. We never have been.”
“Have you not noticed the clothing she wears around you? Some are so transparent, they’re probably made of glass.”
He shook his head. “The Court of Lust has been destroyed, but can you imagine how people dressed at our woodland parties? There is only one circumstance in which I would notice transparent clothing, and that is if you were the one wearing it.” He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “I’m now distracted by that image, but I know we have something important to talk about.”
“Elrine. And how she quite obviously has the hots for you. And whatever else you want to divulge of your history.”
He took a deep breath, fingers tight on the steering wheel as he navigated through London’s streets. “You’re not wrong. She asked me to form a bond three months ago. I said no.”
“What?”
“It was just before you joined us in the rebellion. She approached me and asked me to bind our lives together. I refused, and told her it would never happen.”
I tried to figure out when that was. Soon after we saved Elrine from Siofra’s clutches.
“Why did you refuse?”
“Because I’ve never loved her in that way. And I was in love with you even then, before I knew we were soulmates. I love her, but only as a sister. We have been friends since childhood. When I was imprisoned, she kept me alive and sane, smuggled me things I needed, risking her life. She’s been my only family for the past four centuries. When she asked me to form a bond, it was… difficult. I’d thought she viewed me like a brother, too.”
In love with you. He’d never used those words before, and my cheeks warmed. “Elrine is in love with you.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he finally said.
“And she’s still around, living in your house. She’s your best friend. It will always be a problem for us, with her resenting me, trying to win you over. Lurking around corners with her nipples out.”
“No. It won’t be a problem.”
I snorted. “What makes you say that?”
“This is what I was discussing with her in her room and in the Court of Mirth. I told her she and I would never be together in that way. And I encouraged her to form a bond with another. Someone in particular, in fact.”
“What? Who?”
He loosed a long sigh, and I could almost feel the guilt emanating from him. “It’s for the sake of the alliance. A way to bring both the house of Ernmas and the house of Arawn together for once. Judoc Arawn has been courting her for more than a year. Nyfain has been pushing for it as well, of course. She desires the power this bond will bring to their court. A political bond between two heirs will make the house of Ernmas more powerful than ever before. She’s also mortified that her six-hundred-year-old daughter remains unmarried. Once I made it clear to Elrine that she and I would never be together, she chose to form a bond with Judoc.”
“Judoc? The son of the interrogator we met in the Arawn palace? The one Coel wants to murder?”
“That’s the one. His father is the lord of Arawn. They have agreed to join the alliance once the idea of this bonding has taken root.”
Well, I really hadn’t expected this.
“When will they… do it?” I asked.
“She’s there right now.” He took a deep breath. “I would never have suggested it if I didn’t know Judoc as an honorable man who will respect her. When some of the Unseelie nobility preyed on female gutter fae, Judoc put the males in line, swiftly and violently. Our houses have been at odds, but I respect him.”
I felt dizzy, and thought about Elrine that morning. That look in her eyes—the bitterness, the hurt. Roan had broken her heart.
As if hearing my thoughts—which he practically could—Roan said, “It’s a custom in the Unseelie realm to make such alliances.” His tone sounded defensive. “I know humans no longer view marriages this way. But without a soulmate, this is how the Unseelie bond. Our nobility’s bonds are designed to forge alliances.”
“You never bonded.”
“No. I think I always knew I had a mate somewhere. Not all fae do, but I felt something.” He pulled into the covered alley by his home—the glamoured walls of French Ordinary Court—and turned off the engine. “Look, I will always sense what you feel. There nothing I can do about sensing your feelings. But it can go both ways. We are soulmates, bound together. Give me your hand.”
I offered my hand and he took it, his grip unusually soft. He looked at me, gold flickering in his eyes.
As I held his hand, a sudden torrent of emotions hit me. Roan’s frustration and guilt over Elrine’s heartbreak and her sacrificial marriage. His fears for the war with the Seelie. His grim satisfaction in knowing that the king who had destroyed his family lay dead. Centuries of loneliness and isolation, of guilt for surviving…
But over all that darkness, I sensed his feelings for me. His pride in being my mate, his barely-restrained desire for me.
&nb
sp; And mostly, an endless wave of pure, unbridled love.
Chapter 8
When we’d returned to Roan’s mansion, I headed straight to my room. I scattered some birdfeed for Odin on the windowsill, then went to the bath. After the meeting with the Lord of Balor, I wanted a long soak in hot water before I even thought about dinner. I’d wanted to luxuriate not only in the bath, but in that lingering feeling of love Roan had instilled in me.
As I leaned back in the claw-footed copper tub, clouds of steam rose around me. The hot water left my skin flushed. Lantern light wavered over the dark stone walls, and steam covered the mirror.
Across the room, a fire roared in the marble fireplace. I dipped my head under the surface, rinsing the lather of lilac shampoo from my hair. When I closed my eyes, my mind greeted me with an image of Elrine, in the Court of Sorrow, negotiating her terms for her own wedding, securing an alliance of love and power with a man she didn’t know. Her words earlier today, I can set aside our differences for the greater good, were suddenly imbued with new meaning. She would sacrifice herself for the greater good by binding herself to a man she didn’t love. A grudging admiration suddenly bloomed in me.
As the suds ran down my bare shoulders, my thoughts turned to Roan. For the first time, I felt like I was starting to understand the soul behind the beautiful, unreadable face, the heart beneath the chiseled muscles and tattoos. My heart began to beat harder as I thought of his words tonight, of the flood of emotion I had felt from him.
I rose from the bathtub, the hot water snaking down my pinkened skin.
I stepped out, reaching for the towel on the ground, then dried myself off. Wrapped in the towel, I pulled the plug on the drain. In the steamy room, I crossed to a large mirror above a marble sink with a spigot shaped like a lion’s head. Fog clouded the glass entirely, and I leaned forward, wiping the steam away.
I remembered that wild love I’d felt emanating from Roan, and I felt an overwhelming desire to see him. Perhaps, if he was alone in the library, I would slide through the mirror and join him. I didn’t have the transparent nightgown, but surely a freshly bathed body in a towel was nearly as good? My face flushed as I thought about his powerful body. My own reflection looked back at me from the mirror—pink-faced, a stray drop from my hair running down my shoulder. I bit my lip, warmth pooling in my belly as I thought of him sliding his hands up the towel, stroking my thighs, his warm mouth on my neck.
The mirror was fogging again, and I leaned forward, wiping the fog, letting my senses feel for the reflection.
But as I did, my heart skipped a beat. An iron grip snatched my palm on the mirror’s surface, crushing my fingers, twisting them. My eyes went wide as fear and pain shot through my hand, a small cry leaving my lips.
As my towel fell from me, an arm thrust out of the mirror, grabbing my throat, the sudden impact severing the supply of air to my lungs. Air. A face emerged from the glass following the arm, a dead, emotionless face—one with blue eyes and pink hair.
My own face.
Air. I need air. My reflection lunged from the mirror, crashing into my body. In a tangle of limbs and towels, we toppled to the floor. Her fingers tightened around my neck.
Frantically, I clawed at the fingers at my throat, tiny, desperate rasping noises escaping my throat. Please. Air. She straddled me, her body damp, hair wet and uncombed like mine. So much like me, but her eyes were empty. A soulless reflection of myself. Air.
My vision began to sink into darkness as my mind scrambled for options. Roan! He would feel my sudden fear and would race to the bathroom; I just had to hang on for a few more seconds…
But I’d told him not to barge in when he felt my fear, that it was just exposure therapy. How would he know that my fear for my life was genuine this time?
I had to save myself.
I twisted beneath her, my body still wet from the bath. My reflection’s hands slipped, just a bit, and I managed to suck in a ragged breath, the world swimming back into focus.
Claws sprouted from my fingertips, and my teeth lengthened. The temperature in the room dropped, goosebumps materializing on my bare, wet skin. I slashed at my reflection’s face, tearing at her skin, and her grip loosened. I twisted my entire body and she fell off me, her head thumping on the floor.
Desperately, I scrambled away from her, breath wheezing, trying to scream for help, but the bitch had apparently crushed my vocal cords or something. The flames from the fireplace warmed my back. Stark naked as I was, she rose from the floor, glaring at me, hatred shining in her blue eyes. Blood trickled down where my claws had torn her face, the reflection imitating life almost completely. My heart hammered against my ribs. How can anyone kill a reflection?
The mirror.
My hand shot out, and I snatched a fire poker from beside the fireplace. Gripping it hard, I sprinted for the mirror and swung. The fire poker’s tip smashed the mirror’s surface, and shattering glass echoed off the walls, shards spraying everywhere. Fragments of glass scratched my skin, drawing blood.
My reflection gaped at me, dead-eyed, then lunged. Her fist sank into my stomach, and I doubled over. With her other hand she grabbed the fire poker, twisting it in my grip to wrench my arm behind my back. My fingers were slippery, and the poker slid from my clenched fist.
Evil-me pointed the poker at my face, then swung. I jumped backward, my back ramming against the wall, and the tip of the fire poker slashed just below my throat.
There was a bitter taste in my mouth. I glanced at the mirror. It was mostly gone, and yet my reflection was still standing.
She took another swing with the poker, and I ducked, grabbing for her hand.
She pushed herself forward, trying to shove the sharp metal spike through my eyeball. I clenched my teeth as I stared at her.
As I did, a strange feeling overcame me—a sense of kinship. This thing was part of me.
A reflection.
I should have known breaking the mirror wouldn’t help. Reflection magic was never about the surface—it was about the bond inside the reflection.
Clutching the fire poker, I let myself open up to her, bonding with her. I felt the reflection merging with my body, clicking in the depths of my mind.
As if connected by an invisible thread, I felt someone else at the other end of the bond. For a moment, our minds touched, and hatred burned through our shared connection. As our minds linked, I felt another emotion pouring through the bond.
Fear.
The other mind dropped its hold on the reflection, disappearing from my senses. The hand holding the fire poker grew weaker. I kicked her in the stomach, and she fell back, slamming against the hardwood floor.
When I dropped my connection to it, the reflection shimmered away. The fire poker slammed against the floor, clanging loudly.
“I felt her. It was Siofra.” I gripped the mug in my hand tightly, forcing my trembling fingers to be still. I sat on a soft leather chair in the library, moonlight streaming through a stained-glass window.
Roan had made me a mug of warm cider, brewed with scotch and a touch of butter. And yet the only thing I could think of was the way its surface reflected the colored lights from the window. If Siofra wanted to strike again, she could. If she wanted to watch me, she could. I knew the power of reflections better than anyone, that you couldn’t hide from them. In this room alone, I could feel seventeen of them, ready to bond with me—or Siofra. I sipped from the mug, letting the richness of the cider linger over my tongue.
What had I felt when our minds had touched? Fear. Siofra was afraid of me. I focused on that notion, letting it reassure me, the idea more delicious than the cider. Slowly, my fingers began to relax on the warm mug.
“I thought she was trapped. Can she use her reflection magic from where she is?” Gently, Roan traced his fingers just below the cut on my neck. It wasn’t deep, but its position was unnerving. If it had struck just an inch or two higher…
“No. I left her between mirrors, completely dr
ained of her powers.” I took another sip of my cider. “Somehow, she got her powers back.”
Roan pulled his fingers away, but continued to study me. He was sitting close, as if he were afraid Siofra could burst into the room at any minute. “Do you think she could find a way out?”
My grip tightened again on the mug. “I don’t know. I know some things about reflection magic, but I don’t understand the world between reflections.” I closed my eyes, trying to remember what it had felt like when I’d been there. I cleared my throat, trying to summon a clear picture. “The world is, um… I remember it felt really bad. Like, empty. Like a void. It was like a void of… it might have been black, or white?”
“Go on.” Roan arched an eyebrow. “That’s a very vivid and precise description.”
I rolled my eyes. “Look, most of the time, I just go through it. I don’t have time to take notes and study the surroundings. When I don’t have a lot of magic, I travel much slower, and it feels like… moving through a soupy void. Like molasses.”
“Molasses?”
It was like describing colors to the blind. “Did you ever go down the stairs at night, and think you reached the end of the stairway, but then it turned out that there was one more step?”
“No.”
Of course not. “Well, that’s what it feels like. It’s a space that shouldn’t be noticed. When you’re taking each stair at a time, you never pay attention to it. You don’t think about the space between stairs, right? But when you forget about a step, you suddenly notice it. A space in between.”
Roan stared at me thoughtfully, then rose. He crossed to one of the bookcases beneath the stained-glass window, and ran his fingers along the spines. I sucked down the last of my cider, a comfortable whiskey-buzz settling in my mind, as I began to suspect there may have been more scotch than cider in the brew. I stared down at the cinnamon stick and dried apple ring, soaked through with cider. I scooped it out and bit into it, enjoying its sweetness, the sharp bite of scotch. When I thought of Roan making the cider for me, thoughtfully adding the dried apple slice, a smile curled my lips.