by Lexi Ryan
I shake my head. “It’s just some strange reaction to being in a magical place.”
Finn tilts his head. “I don’t know what I find more interesting. The lie or that you truly want to believe it.” His lips curl, but there’s no amusement in his smile. Only disgust. “You know already, though. You know that the powers you have in my realm aren’t so new. You’ve been using them for years.”
A dry laugh bursts from my lips. “If you say so.”
“You’re a thief. A good one, too.”
How do these shadow fae know so much about me? “If I do have powers—and I’m not saying I do—why would you assume someone gave them to me?”
He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice. “Because humans don’t have magic unless it’s granted to them by a magical creature powerful enough to do so.”
“Witches have magic. And mages.”
“No. Witches and mages use magic. Symbols, spells, potions. Some humans are able to use magic, but they do not have it. Not like you do. You are a human who can wield darkness. You can become shadow and walk through walls—without spells or potions, without ritual. The magic is part of you, and the only way that’s possible is if a faerie granted it to you.”
“I don’t know where it came from,” I admit. Because he’s right. There’s part of me that knew long before coming to Faerie that my skills in night and shadow aren’t normal—that they’re something special. I open my mouth, considering telling him more, then snap it shut. His people have proved that they can’t be trusted. “Your turn.”
He studies his wine for so long I think he won’t answer. “Mordeus is my uncle.”
That’s the moment his name clicks into place for me. Bakken told me that Prince Finnian was the rightful heir to the Throne of Shadows—this is that Finn? “You’re the prince.” It’s not even a question. It explains everything. The way he moves, the way his friends defer to him, the way he feels like the most important person in the room, whether I want to believe he is or not. Yes, everything about Finn screams royalty. Power.
He lifts his eyes to meet mine. “You might have noticed the resemblance.”
The silver eyes. It’s not all shadow fae who have those silver eyes. Only the royal family.
“I don’t reside in my own court, because good old Uncle Mord wants me dead. Heartwarming, isn’t it?”
“What did you do?”
He grunts, as if my ignorance is amusing. “I was born, and that was enough to threaten his claim to the power he’s craved since his own father bestowed the crown upon my father. As for why I’m in the Seelie Court . . . I’m here temporarily, and”—he smirks—“covertly. I prefer the Wild Fae Lands to the golden queen’s territory, but there are matters here that require my attention.”
My mind reels with a hundred questions, but only one repeatedly shuffles to the top. “Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?”
“I know Mordeus has your sister, and I know what he’s demanding from you in exchange for her.” He sips his wine. “I want to teach you how to use your gifts to protect yourself in this land. I want to help you.”
That’s what he’d said in my dream. I’ll help you get her back. Come find me.
“You keep saying that, but why should I believe you?” I back toward the door. “Your people abducted me and brought me here against my will, and you want me to trust you?”
His silver eyes flash and his mouth draws into a thin, tight line. “You chose to trust Mordeus by taking his deal.”
“I don’t have a choice. At least I understand what Mordeus wants from me and why. Am I supposed to believe that you want to help a human girl out of the goodness of your heart?”
He takes a menacing step forward, anger clear in every line of that beautiful face. “I want to help you because it helps my court. Every member of my court is weaker as long as our magical artifacts are missing. As long as the golden queen . . .” His nostrils flare, and he takes several shallow breaths, as if suffering some sudden, invisible pain. “They are vulnerable as long as the power of the courts is out of balance.”
“You expect me to believe that? You stand there in fine clothes, drinking fancy wine in a tavern in the Seelie Court. Poor, exiled prince. It seems like you’re fighting really hard to get Mordeus off the throne.”
The wineglass shatters to dust in his hand, and my body locks up in fear at the evidence of how dangerous he is. Calmly, he brushes his hands together, letting the drops of wine and glass dust fall away. “Take my help, mortal.”
“I don’t need you.”
His gaze flicks over me, and I flinch when I see darkness leaking off my hands like ink into a pool of water. “Have you shared the bond with anyone?” he asks.
As if I’d submit myself to faerie bonding. As if I’d give anyone that kind of control over my free will and my life. Never.
“Maybe someone back home,” he says. “A friend or lover, anyone?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to spit that humans don’t perform such absurd rituals. I don’t even know how or if it would work between humans, but I bite back the denial. I know just enough about faerie bonds to know that there’s some level of protection involved. If Finn believes that someone might be bonded to me, maybe he won’t try to keep me here.
He stares at me for a long beat. “It’s a simple question.”
I shrug. “And I simply choose not to answer.”
He mutters something under his breath. I can see the anger in his eyes, his efforts to keep his temper under control. “You need to understand that bonds have consequences and aren’t as easily undone as you might think.”
Is this self-righteous ass seriously going to lecture me about this? I fold my arms. “If I leave, will your friends come after me?”
“Are you planning to return to the queen’s son?”
The words are a balled fist to the gut. Queen Arya’s son. Prince Ronan.
Sebastian.
I have to close my eyes against the pain of it. The betrayal. I can’t let myself think about him right now.
When I open them, I stare at the inky blackness around my hands. This reminder is just what I need. I have power. I am not trapped here.
Finn steps close, studying me as if I’m a rather interesting insect, his lips curved in a smirk.
I step toward the shadows between the wall sconces, desperate to disappear into them as the office door opens.
“Word came from the castle,” Pretha says, letting the door swing shut behind her. “Prince Ronan has delayed his selection until tomorrow. We need to put a plan in place quickly and get her back there.”
Finn folds his arms. “I’m not sure the girl wants to work with us.” There’s a challenge in his voice. As if I’m a child and he’s working me through reverse psychology.
I press my back against the wall and will myself to push through it, to escape. Nothing happens. How did I use my power before?
Pretha crosses the room, heading toward me. “You can’t do this alone,” she tells me.
I shake my head. “You’re wrong.” I’ve been working alone my whole life. Nothing needs to change now. Like the inverse of a flickering lamp, I fade to shadow and back to my corporeal self.
Panicked, Pretha spins on Finn. “What’s she doing?”
Shadow. Turn to shadow. My hand disappears and appears, but the wall behind me holds firm.
“Finn!” Pretha’s eyes are wide. “She’s going to escape.”
Shadow. This time when my hand disappears, the rest of my arm goes too. I melt into the wall and stumble through it. My dress tangles in a rosebush on the outside of the tavern, proving once again that pants are the wiser clothing choice. I scramble upright, and the thorns rip my skirt and tear at my legs.
I can hear Finn and Pretha argue through the cracked window, but their angry words are muffled until Finn barks a final, clear command. “Let her go.”
I hoist my dress up and run, but I don’t know where I am and the fog is too t
hick to see the castle in the distance.
I know the forest was ahead of me when I fled Sebastian, but now it’s to my left. I turn, putting my back to the woods, but nothing in that direction looks familiar.
The forest. I can hide there—I can turn myself to shadow and nothingness and hide until I can find my way back to the castle. Because I have to go back to the castle.
If Sebastian’s delayed his selection, perhaps I can still make this work. There’s still a chance to save Jas.
The forest is darker than any in Fairscape—the canopy of leaves dense and the lights of the homes beyond dimmer than those from my overpopulated part of the world. A horrible cry tears through the night, followed by a triumphant howl. I’ve never been scared of the dark, but I know enough to be scared of this dark. I don’t know half of what lives in these trees. Maybe my shadows can hide me, but can they protect me?
The summer heat has gone with the sun, and I wrap my arms around myself as I scan the forest, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.
Another howl, this one closer, and terror trembles through my muscles. You know that the powers you have in my realm aren’t so new. You’ve been using them for years.
Normal humans can’t see in the dark like this. I knew that, didn’t I? I just didn’t want to admit it to myself, didn’t want to admit that there was some piece of faerie inside me.
But knowing you have a tool is a far cry from knowing how to use it. I have no idea where I am. No idea which way to the castle. And no idea how to use my power to protect myself from whatever lives in these woods.
A low growl sounds from twenty yards away. I spin and freeze in terror. Gold-flecked, glowing blue eyes flash in the dark, and a black wolf with bared teeth slinks toward me.
Chapter Nine
NOT A WOLF. EVEN IN A CROUCH, this animal’s head is nearly as high as I am tall. A tongue darts out between long, fanged teeth, and it prowls toward me one slow step at a time.
I have no weapons but my fickle magic and nowhere to hide but in a forest this creature undoubtedly knows better than I do.
The branches of an oak tree flare out above me, but the ones within my reach are spindly and look too weak to hold my weight. Several feet away is maple tree with sturdy lower branches. If I sprint and jump, I might be able to climb high enough before the wolf-thing can reach me.
A low snarl, and it creeps closer, as black as night, the promise of death in its eyes.
Take a deep breath and run, Brie.
Turning, I sprint forward, then cut to my left as fast as my dress will allow. The creature lunges toward me, moving too fast for something so massive. I jump, reaching as high as I can even as the feel of the beast’s breath warms the skin on the back of my neck. My fingertips brush the branch, and the bark bites into my skin as I grapple for a better grip.
I curl my fingers to claws, trying to hold on, but I slip. Time moves in slow motion as I fall toward to the forest floor and the beast’s snapping maw.
I kick hard, aiming to dislocate the creature’s jaw and barely moving it.
Pain sears through me as those teeth sink into my calf, and I scream as the muscle is torn away. I’m in over my head. I’m nothing against this place.
Low growls sound behind the creature, and two wolves pounce on it. For one pain-blurred moment I think they might be trying to protect me, but I’m delirious, and the rational part of my mind knows they’re probably fighting for territory.
Or fresh meat.
I try to stand as the smaller wolves work together to attack the beast, but the moment I put weight on my injured leg, I collapse to the forest floor.
I use the tree to pull myself back up, and a horrific roar rips through the forest. The wolves’ attention snaps away from the beast for one long beat before they turn and run . . . leaving me alone with the black, snarling creature.
It moves slower now—blood oozing from bites on its back—but not slow enough to make up for my maimed leg. I scramble backwards, trying to put all my weight on my good side and crying out when I collapse again.
The beast lunges, jaws wide, and I know it’s coming for my neck. Before it can reach me, an invisible wind lifts it from the ground and throws it into a tree across the clearing.
The creature screeches and collapses on the forest floor with one final cry.
“Abriella.” Sebastian is here, breathless. He scoops me up like I’m weightless and cradles me in his arms. “Brie? Are you okay?”
I nod against his chest, but I’m not okay. The pain in my leg is so blinding, nausea rolls through me, but it’s nothing compared with the defeated ache in my chest. I am so unequipped to take on this vicious world.
“Brie, your leg.” He shifts me in his arms, and I jerk away as he reaches for the wound. “Shh. Be still.” With a touch of his hand, the pain disappears.
I’m shaking so hard, and I take deep breath after deep breath to calm myself.
Sebastian smooths my hair off my face, tucking the loose strands behind my ears, and I realize that he’s the one who’s shaking. “I wanted to give you space, but I should have come after you. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
I swallow. He looks . . . devastated. No matter how much his deception hurts, this is still Sebastian. He’s broken my trust, but my feelings for him haven’t disappeared because of who his mother is. They haven’t vanished because he can wield magic from within himself more effectively than anything he learned from Mage Trifen. “I’m okay.”
He runs a finger across my cheek, and when he pulls it away, I see blood. “I’m taking you back to the palace to see my healers.”
The pain is gone, but I feel off, as if I am losing my balance and slipping from existence, whether from Sebastian’s magic or a reaction to the creature’s bite. I need help. I need healers. I nod and cast one last look toward the body of the beast.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Sebastian says again. “I’m so sorry.”
He carries me out of the forest to a clearing where a white stallion waits in the moonlight. Sebastian’s big hands are gentle—reverent—as he lifts me onto the horse. When he climbs on behind me, I relish the solid strength of him and the reassuring heat of his skin through his tunic. If I close my eyes, I can pretend we’re back in Fairscape and nothing has changed.
He wraps one arm around me, and taking the reins with his other hand, he urges the horse into a gallop.
With his breath in my ear, the steady beat of his heart against my back, the rhythm of the horse beneath me, my eyes grow heavier with every step. I’d slide off this horse if he weren’t holding me. My muscles refuse to work. I melt into his heat, his protective embrace, and I resent myself for the weakness.
By the time we arrive at the castle, keeping my eyes open is a losing battle.
He positions my hands on the stallion’s neck. “Hang on right there for a minute,” he instructs. He swings off the horse and hops to the ground, immediately reaching for me. Even half conscious, with a numb leg, I’m aware of every point of contact as he pulls me into his arms. He smells like the salt of the sea and the leather of his vest and pants. I jostle against his chest as he runs through the castle doors with me in his arms.
“Am I dying?” I ask against his chest, but I’m so tired there’s no urgency behind my words.
“The Barghest’s saliva is slowing your heart rate. If we don’t get you the antitoxin quickly . . .” He runs faster, and I close my eyes, unable to muster the energy to worry. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of people around us, quick steps on stone and doors opening and closing.
“A Barghest got her in the forest—” he says. “Call the healer.”
I open my eyes as a set of double doors opens before us and Sebastian carries me to a large four-poster bed. The layers of soft white bedding look like something from a dream. I curl onto my side. I don’t care about anything but sleep right now.
When I close my eyes, I see Jasalyn’s smiling face, and grief rips through me.
“Tell Jas I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t—” He grips my shoulder in his warm, callused hand. “Don’t talk like that.”
But doesn’t he know it’s true? I can feel death in the poison snaking its way through my veins. I open my mouth. I need to speak but can’t find the energy.
Promise me you’ll find her.
My mouth won’t form the words.
Sebastian grips my shoulder harder. “Hold on, Brie.”
I don’t know how long I lie there, fading in and out of consciousness. I hear Sebastian talking to someone. Maybe many someones. Commanding them to action, shouting when they move too slowly.
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” an unfamiliar voice says. “And the toxin is spreading. She might not be able to drink.”
“Abriella . . .” Sebastian says. That hand on my shoulder again. So warm. So strong. My one safe place to land. Even now.
“Abriella, I need you to drink this.”
Glass against my lips. Warm liquid spills onto my tongue, down my chin.
“Swallow, dammit! You have to swallow.”
I choke, gag, and finally manage to swallow before my energy flags again and I go limp in his arms.
“Good,” Sebastian murmurs. “Good girl.”
“I need to heal this leg before she loses any more blood,” the unfamiliar voice says.
“Do it,” Sebastian snaps.
The scorching heat of healing hands pulls me back in time. Then and now blur together. Mom’s voice. Sebastian’s. Wind chimes at midnight. A stranger’s promises.
My bedroom is ensconced in fire—my body wrapped around Jasalyn, protecting her from flames that feel like they are eating me alive.
I’m barely aware of Mother’s voice. Please save her.
There’s a cost.
I’ll pay it. I want to open my eyes and tell her it will be okay, but I can’t. Her desperate silence is broken by a gasp that makes my heart ache. There has to be another way.
I do this for you.
My mother’s sobs fill my ears, and then the numbness fades away with the heat of healing hands on my burns.