by Lexi Ryan
I don’t have the energy for tears, and my rage ate up what little I did have. I’m drained from my journey, but I refuse to believe I’m stuck. I didn’t come all this way for nothing.
I rest my head on my knees and close my eyes. I imagine my sister curled in a ball in a room much like this one, crying herself to sleep. I think of the tenderness in Sebastian’s eyes as he gave me the crystal pendant of protection. When he returns to Fairscape, what will he think when I’m not there?
* * *
I’m two places at once. Two people at once. I’m the sleeping would-be rescuer curled against the wall in Mordeus’s oubliette, the girl who failed to save her sister. And I’m the eight-year-old protector, the girl who’s snuggled under the blankets with my little sister, spoon-feeding her hope so she doesn’t drown in the sadness.
Dreams can be so strange. I know I’m dreaming, but I don’t want to wake up. Because Jas is with me in this dream. And if she’s with me, she’s safe.
We’re in the upstairs bedroom that we shared before Uncle Devlin died, and I wipe away her tears as she cries. She’s missing Mother tonight. I am too, but my grief will only intensify hers, so I lock it up tight and brush her chestnut hair from her eyes.
“I miss her,” Jas says on a shaky sob.
“I bet she misses us too,” I whisper. “So much that she’s planning a way to come get us.”
Jas sniffles. “Tell me a story?”
I sweep her hair from her face and weave a story of faerie castles and elven royalty. The story comes, and I feel like it’s important, but it’s almost like I’m watching myself from a distance. I can’t make out my own words. They’re as fuzzy as a murmur from another room.
Jas grips my hand, and I know I’ve gotten to an exciting part. “Now what?” she asks.
“The cruel king waits for the day the princess of shadows will come to his castle.” I’d forgotten this tale—one our mother told us only once, the night before she left for Faerie. “The false king knew she could command the shadows, but he didn’t know that her big heart and her endless love would cost him his throne.”
Jasalyn closes her eyes, and her face softens with sleep. I don’t know if she’s dreaming or half awake when she says, “The prince will help you find me.”
I blink away from her to the darkness at the foot of the bed. The silver-eyed male I saw at the ball is there and then gone, flickering like a fading, precious memory.
“Who told you that story?” he asks. He’s more shadow than corporeal.
I sit up and smile at him, oddly comforted by his appearance and my sister’s words. I feel safe here, under the intense gaze of this faerie who is all but a stranger to me. I feel less alone. The prince will help you find me. I climb out of bed and tuck the blankets around Jas. “Our mother told us many stories.”
“Then why do you feel so powerless?”
Suddenly our bedroom becomes the cold, doorless, windowless cell in the evil king’s castle. And I remember. I’m a prisoner. This is a dream. “Because I am.”
Something like anger flashes in those silver eyes, and then I’m standing beneath a vast, starry sky, the moon a comforting beacon over my shoulder.
The silver-eyed faerie fully materializes, as if strengthened by the starlight. His dark curls are pulled back from his face and his brow is creased with worry. “You’re only powerless if you believe you are.” He sneers as he looks me over, and in his eyes I see a reflection of starlight. “We don’t have much time.”
“What?”
“He won’t let you go—he won’t release either of you—until you agree. I’ll help you get her back. Come find me.”
“You’re Unseelie. Why would I want your help? You’re probably working for him.”
His eyes flash. “Never. I swear it on my magic.” He blinks and turns his head. “They’re coming.”
He disappears, and the dark night around me is erased by too-bright light.
“Wake up, Fire Girl.” The command is followed by a dry cackle, and I open my eyes.
A goblin stands in the center of the cell. He grins down at me, his gnarled fingers extended toward my hair, his bulging eyes bright with excitement. But I’m still half in my dreamworld and can barely focus on the creature before me.
Why did I dream of that faerie? He had seemed so real. Why hadn’t I dreamed of Sebastian giving me advice—or Jasalyn? Or anyone I knew?
The goblin offers his hand, pulling me from my thoughts. “The king believes a night’s sleep may have made you change your mind. We go to him now.”
My instinct is to refuse, but what will that accomplish?
Nodding, I take his bony hand. I’m still crouched on the ground when we appear in the throne room again. Unlike last night, the room is empty except for Mordeus, who stands before his throne like he’s been pacing. Despite the bright morning sun pouring in through the windows and the domed glass ceiling, the space seems bigger and colder.
“Has the mortal reconsidered my offer?” King Mordeus asks his goblin, his eyes hard. A ruler who doesn’t tolerate being refused.
My stomach hurts, but I force myself to take one deep breath after another. I don’t trust faeries, and I specifically don’t trust this one, but I do trust my dreams. I swear it on my magic. Did my mother once tell me that a faerie can’t break a promise made on their power? I have to believe that my subconscious pulled this information from my memories for a reason.
I push myself off the floor only to be bound by those invisible chains again. I have to bite my lip to keep from snarling at him. “I have reconsidered.”
Pretend I want to marry the prince so I can infiltrate the castle, steal a few magical faerie artifacts, and free my sister. I can do this.
“If I retrieve these three artifacts and return them to . . .” I hesitate. I don’t want to give anything to this male who thinks human girls are objects to be purchased, and some instinct has me subtly reworking his terms. “If I return the artifacts to the Unseelie Court, you will return my sister safely to a location of my choice in the human realm.” It’s not a question. These are my terms.
His silver eyes glow. He knows he’s won. “You have my word, Fire Girl.”
“Swear it on your power.”
He flinches, and his features harden for a beat before he replaces his friendly mask. “Who told you about that?”
I shrug. “Everyone knows,” I lie. “Unfortunately, it’s the only way I can trust you.”
“Fine. With one caveat. If you tell anyone from the Seelie Court about this arrangement, our bargain is over and I’ll give your sister to my goblins as a solstice gift. Do you understand?”
Who would I tell? The only soul I trust in this realm is Jasalyn. “I understand.”
He smiles. “We have a deal then. Once the three artifacts are returned to my court where they belong, I will send your sister safely back to a location of your choice in the human realm.”
“Alive,” I snap. It seems like safe should cover that, but I won’t allow him to work a loophole.
“Alive. I swear it on my power.” With a snap of his fingers, a silver-gilded mirror appears in his hand. “This is a replica of the Mirror of Discovery. When you find it, replace it with this so the queen won’t know it’s missing.”
“What happens when she realizes it’s a fake?”
He shakes his head. “Only one with Unseelie blood can tell the difference.”
“Where will I find this mirror?”
He shrugs. “All I know is that Arya has hidden it away in the Seelie Court. You may have to search to get your hands on it, but that shouldn’t be a problem for someone who found her portal.” He smirks and offers me the mirror. “You may stand.”
I shift experimentally and find that the invisible bonds have slipped away. Standing, I realize I’m still clutching the scrap of Jas’s smock in one hand. I take the mirror in the other, willing myself not to shake. “Will I bring it to you through the portal once I’ve found it?”
<
br /> “The portal’s been . . . disabled.” His goblin laughs, and Mordeus smirks in his direction. “My goblin will retrieve you and it when the time is right.”
I don’t enjoy feeling like the butt of a joke, but I let my pride get the best of me last night and lost hours—hours I could have been searching for the mirror. If I get to take my sister home, they can laugh at me all they want. “What are the other two artifacts?”
“Focus on one task at a time, my girl. I will tell you the second when I have the first.” He claps his hands, and a trio of elven fae females appear around me. They share the king’s pale skin but have short, light blue hair. “Dress Abriella for the Seelie Court. Make her look like his future queen, then return her to the Golden Palace.”
The three females bow their heads in acquiescence. “Yes, Your Majesty,” they say in unison. One takes my arm, and I follow them toward a door in the back of the room.
“Abriella,” the king says. I stop and turn to him, meeting his eyes. “When you meet Prince Ronan, remember that you need him. Hold his trust, or you will be unable to infiltrate his court.”
“I understand my mission.”
He spreads his fingers, and a ball of darkness bleeds like an inkblot between them. “You’ll be fine if you remember what’s at stake.” The ball of darkness shifts until it’s not darkness at all, but an image of Jasalyn and me sitting on the floor at Madame V’s. She’s in her pajamas, and she looks like she just crawled out of bed. The smile on her face makes me step closer to that image, despite the man holding it.
He adds, “Or, I should say . . . who.”
Chapter Seven
“THERE HAS TO BE ANOTHER WAY,” I say, stepping away from the goblin at my door. After I was given an opportunity to bathe and the king’s servants dressed me like a doll, King Mordeus sent his goblin to escort me to the queen’s palace. I don’t care to put that much trust in a creature who has wiped drool from his mouth twice since I came into his view.
“King Mordeus long ago destroyed his brother Oberon’s portal to the Seelie lands,” one handmaiden says.
“Can I take a carriage or . . . a horse?”
The handmaidens exchange surprised glances. “It’s a week’s journey on our fastest steed, milady.”
At first I nearly snorted every time they call me lady. That’s one thing I’ve never been accused of being, but after hours of having them fuss over me, I’m more annoyed by the title than anything else.
King Mordeus’s goblin grumbles under his breath, then offers his hand again. I get it. Not only can goblins move freely between and within realms, they can do so instantaneously. They choose to go somewhere, and they simply appear there. Next to the knowledge they hoard, it’s their greatest power. My gaze lands on the bracelet at my wrist. As the faeries washed me, I confirmed Bakken’s promise that the bracelet was visible only to me. Now I’m tempted to use it. I would so much rather have Bakken transport me than this unknown goblin, but I don’t want to waste a thread—or, truthfully, unnecessarily lose any more of my hair. I’m supposed to seduce a prince, and my wild red curls are the best physical attribute I have on my side. I take a deep breath and a step forward. “Okay.”
The goblin takes my hand. His skin is leathery against mine, but before I can think on it too long, the world falls away. This isn’t like the sensation of appearing before the king from my cell. This is like moving down and up and out all at once—then I’m jerked to a halt, my head whipping back. I’m surrounded by rows of neatly tended flower beds, and the golden queen’s castle gleams in the evening light.
“I leave you here,” the goblin says, releasing my hand.
I turn to ask how I’m to summon him after I retrieve the mirror, but he’s already gone.
The castle is as bustling as it was when I first arrived in Faerie, with humans and faeries of all kinds milling about beyond and within the gates. I graze my fingers across the amulet that hangs between my breasts and start toward the footbridge. The handmaidens who dressed me had asked about the amulet and suggested that I trade it out for pearls, but I refused. I don’t know if Sebastian’s magic works in this realm, but even if it doesn’t, the feel of the cool crystal between my breasts brings me comfort.
Sebastian. My chest pinches, and I allow myself a moment of self-pity. I close my eyes and remember his kiss, his sea-green eyes. It’s hard to believe that only a few days ago my debt to Madame V and my secret crush on the mage’s apprentice were the most complicated problems in my life.
I don’t know if I’ll ever see Sebastian again, but if I do, I hope he can forgive me for whatever actions I’ll have to take to make Prince Ronan trust me.
“Brie? Is that you?”
I turn toward the familiar voice and see Sebastian striding toward me, as if my thoughts alone summoned him. I nearly fall to my knees in relief at the sight of his beautiful face. He’s dressed in dark brown leather pants and a vest, a long sword strapped to his back, as if it’s just another day in Fairscape and he’s ready to train in Mage Trifen’s courtyard. But then I take in his pointed ears, glowing skin, and the sharper angles of his features. He looks every bit like the noble fae I saw dancing inside the queen’s castle last night.
He must have gotten a potion from Mage Trifen—I considered it myself before realizing I could never afford such a thing, and I didn’t have the time to steal the funds.
“Bash,” I whisper.
He pulls me into his arms. His heat is a comfort I thought I’d never experience again. “It is you.”
When I pull back to study him, a combination of awe and frustration taint his perfectly handsome face. “I would never have believed you could pass for a faerie,” I say, skimming my fingertips across his beautiful cheekbones. “Your glamour is flawless. If I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t doubt that you belong here.”
He flinches at this, and his throat bobs as he swallows. “When I heard Gorst’s men were looking for you, I went to Nik. She told me you were gone. She wouldn’t tell me where you went, but she didn’t have to. I knew you’d come for Jas.” He pulls me into his chest again and exhales heavily. “I’ve been searching the Seelie Court all day, and I couldn’t find you. Damnit, Brie, where have you been?”
I fish the amulet out of my dress and show it to him. “I’m safe. See?”
He runs his big hands up and down my arms and looks over every inch of me. After pulling my hair back in a series of braids gathered into a bun atop my head, the Unseelie handmaidens had dressed me in a sleeveless gown of layer after layer of yellow satin. The fabric hugs my figure from the sweetheart neckline down through my hips and flares out to where it sweeps the ground around my yellow-slippered feet. When they showed me my reflection, I thought I looked like a giant tulip. The maids insisted that the prince would find me irresistible like this, and I had no reason not to trust them.
But maybe Prince Ronan isn’t the only one with a weakness for tulips. Sebastian is speechless as he takes me in. His eyes return to my face again and again, as if he’s trying to convince himself that I’m okay. “You look . . .” He squeezes the back of his neck and flashes me a boyish grin. “Let’s just say I can’t imagine that you’ve been able to get around unnoticed.”
I swallow but can’t help my blush at the compliment. “I managed.”
“I’ve been so worried.”
“I’m fine.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him the truth, but what did the king say about talking about our deal? Was it only the Seelie I can’t tell or did he forbid me to tell anyone? I think it’s just the Seelie, but what happens if one of them overhears me telling Sebastian? “You shouldn’t have come looking for me. What about your apprenticeship?”
He studies my face, tracing the edge of my jaw with his thumb. “Nothing matters as much as you.”
I rest my cheek against his chest, curl into him, and hold tight. Maybe it makes me weak, but I’m desperately grateful that he’s here. Because I’m tired. Because I’m scared.
; Because I’m ashamed.
I’m ashamed that part of me wants to go home—that I wish I could leave this place and these awful creatures. Ashamed that I wish I didn’t have to be the one to rescue my sister.
The king was right about one thing. I am a great thief. I can steal just about anything. But a faerie prince’s heart? I wouldn’t know where to start.
I should feel lucky that the king isn’t asking anything worse from me, but instead I feel primed for failure. I would rather have ventured into the depths of the Unseelie wilds—fought and evaded terrible monsters to steal magical treasures. I would’ve had more confidence in my ability to do that, but this? Pretending I want to be a faerie’s bride and beating out other women for the honor? Even in the prettiest dress, I wouldn’t know how to do that.
Sebastian steps back and cups my face in one big hand. “Tell me where you’ve been.”
I shake my head. I can’t tell him about the king. I can’t risk it. “I’ve been looking for Jas. My search led me . . . away from the queen’s lands.”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “My amulet can’t protect you from the worst of the shadow court. You have no idea how dangerous they are. If an Unseelie fae had seen you, they would have taken you. They could have bound you as a slave. Worse.”
I hate that my choice hurts him. How can I explain? If anyone understands what Jas means to me, it’s Sebastian. “I won’t go home until I find her. But you should. This isn’t your fight, Bash.”
He scans the lush gardens around us and curses under his breath. “I need more time,” he says, more to himself than to me.
I put my hand on his arm, all too aware of the strength and warmth beneath my fingers. “For what?”
“To do what I should have done months ago.” He swallows. “Walk with me?”
I cast a long look at the castle. I need to go in and present myself as a potential bride for the prince before he’s chosen his twelve.
“Just for a few minutes,” Sebastian says. He tucks a loose curl behind my ear. “Can you give me that?” His smile is like sunlight on my icy heart. I can’t deny him this—not when it’s so simple.