by AE McKenna
I stored the djinni glue in my bottle, wondering how we’d get a clean break from Sythradiafol’s plans. Penny wanted something from the fae, and whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. But if we thwarted those plans altogether, then what would happen to Magdalena? If we played our cards right, we could walk away—all of us. And I believed Lucy was onto something when she suggested we give Ray his wife back. But how did we do that without breaking our favor to Sythradiafol? So I stood, pulled Luce to her feet, and returned to the adventure she represented.
If I’d known what was in store for us, I would’ve tossed the key into the river and whisked her away, leaving behind all things fae and magic.
Chapter 17
After Mal stored all his rock-climbing gear, he regarded me with a pensive expression.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I agree with you about Ray and his wife, but there are things we haven’t thought of.”
“Like what?”
“He might owe Sythradiafol a favor, or she won’t want to give up the djinni bottle.”
I frowned, irritated. “No one should have that kind of power over people. Sure, fae are more powerful with magic and all, and they have a magical realm all to their selves, but they’re not gods.”
Mal sighed, staring at the cake knife in my hand. “Luce, the fae are our betters, and they firmly believe it. They lead us, govern us… rule over us. If she doesn’t want to give up the bottle, she’s not obligated to. Even if she agrees to hand it over, she’s probably already made a wish. And you need all three to grant freewill to a djinni.”
“Yeah, but she needs something more powerful than making wishes on a bottle. That’s why she sent us after the piece of the Blarney.” I grumbled. “We give Ray the piece of the Blarney. He can demand she gives up mastery over the bottle for the relic.”
Mal pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, then cupped my shoulder. “What do you think he’ll do if that works?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “My parents are the reason his wife is trapped in a bottle. I should get her out.”
His lips lifted at the corners enough that both his dimples winked at me, and he nodded. “I can stand behind that with you.”
I smiled. It was nice to explain myself and have my reason accepted for exactly what I said. I jabbed the cake knife in the air, and magic buzzed through my fingers. A portal snapped next to us. We waited to see if it’d get slammed shut again before we stepped through and into a vivid fall.
It was the same outside sitting area with the carpet of multi-colored leaves as before. Except this time there wasn’t cake. I sighed. I would do things for cake right now. Ray and Mom sat at the table. Mom had her leg propped on a chair across from her, and her serene expression remained at odds with her wan complexion. She wasn’t acting like she was in pain as she was before we’d left for Ireland. In fact, this was the most at ease I’d seen her since Dad died. Her expensive-looking wine bottle sat on the table, a gold wrapper encasing the bottle opening and neck.
I rubbed my shoulder, then followed my necklace until I clutched the four-leaf clover pendant. I nodded at the bottle. “That can’t be good.”
Ray waved a corkscrew like it was no big deal. “Did you bring the Blarney Stone—the real one this time?”
I glanced around the patio area—it probably had an elaborate name, but I wasn’t some stuck-up fancy noble. “Where’s the fae? I thought she’d be here waiting for us.”
“My liege has more important things to attend to than waiting around for the likes of you,” Ray snapped.
I narrowed my eyes; I didn’t like his tone.
“Cut the crap, Ray,” Mal muttered.
Both Mom and Ray jumped.
“Smoke and mirrors, Tanaka.” Mom waved in his direction, her words slurring. “Can’t you do something about all that?”
I tilted my head. “Are you high?”
“A little. He gave me something for the break.” She pushed out a breath and smiled at me. “Did you find the Blarney Stone, honeybee?”
I bit my lip, wanting to answer her, but if I did, she’d speed things along so fast that I’d screw this up. And where would that leave us? Unable to walk away until the fae was done with whatever she wanted, whereas I could give Ray the piece here, make Mom heal, get Mags, and go home.
I tucked my hands in my pockets and jerked my chin at Ray. “Did you agree to a favor with Sythradiafol?”
He glared. “No. I became her dapifer so I could follow Hunter’s bottle. Maybe… if I pleased her, she’d give it to me once she used all her wishes.”
Phantom burns scorched my wrists, and I clenched my fingers. Being a slave to gold wasn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy. “What if we give you the piece of the Blarney, and you give Mom her bottle back and tell us where Mags is? What do you think?”
Mom groaned and facepalmed. “No, no, no.”
Ray’s expression shuttered. “Why?”
“Then you can barter with Sythradiafol to give up mastery over your wife’s bottle in exchange for the piece of the Blarney,” Mal answered.
I smiled and nodded.
“No, no, no.” Mom lifted her head and stared blearily at Ray. “We have an arrangement.”
Ray spared her a glance. “This way I’m guaranteed to get Hunter back, though.” He licked his lips, taking a step toward me. “And you’re positive you have the actual stone? I won’t barter for my wife with a fake.”
Mom slapped the table. “We had a deal. What about me, huh? We agreed that we’d use that damn fae to bring my hu—him back. That he was the better alternative.” Her lips thinned and red dusted her cheeks. “You promised me.”
I tensed. She couldn’t have meant Dad. She wouldn’t do that.
“Then you shouldn’t have lied, Penny. You shouldn’t have made me come find you in Nebraska. You shouldn’t have forced my liege’s hand to take your family to earn your cooperation. You shouldn’t have gambled with Hunter’s future!” He stood, holding the corkscrew out to me. “I’ll take the piece of the Blarney.”
Mal summoned the fingernail clipping. It sat in a capped petri dish, but magic pulsed off it like dandelion seeds on a breezy day. It smelled like summer: grassy fields, sweet flowers, and fresh vegetables. And I wanted it. I needed to touch it, to hold it, to soak in its power. My fingers twitched as Ray took the relic and gave me the corkscrew. The weighty obligation of a favor dissipated from my stomach.
“How could you? How could you?” Tears slipped down Mom’s cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. “How could you do that?”
Ray gaped at the relic. “Is this a… fingernail?”
“Yeah,” I chirped. “Turns out Cliodhna is the Blarney. There’s your piece.” I peeked at Mom, squirming. Her reaction was more over the top than I expected. I should’ve mentioned the murder race, but it wouldn’t have changed how I felt. I’d made my mom cry. Rather than finding out why the relic was so important to her and why she was doing this, I’d traded it away to a perfect stranger. I was an awful daughter.
I grabbed Mom’s bottle and dragged the corkscrew around the gold foil, pulling it back in tiny pinches at a time—it was hot!—until I uncovered the opening. Mom didn’t say a word, wouldn’t look at me, just turned into a twist of money-green smoke and disappeared inside her bottle. I bit my lip, then picked it up. She’d need me to hang onto it for her when we left.
“Magdalena?” Mal asked.
“Ah.” Ray started toward a mansion, motioning for us to follow. “Come with me. I’ll relay the terms were met to my liege.”
On the outside, the mansion resembled something from a BBC period piece. Inside, the walls were stone with tapestries of fields after a harvest, paired with large square stone flooring. The high vaulted ceilings had banners hanging from rafters, and we turned into a large, echoey throne room. It wasn’t as large as the ballroom in Cliodhna’s mansion, but Sythradiafol also wasn’t hosting a murder race.
Sythradiaf
ol stood in front of an ornate chair on a dais. The dog stood slightly behind her, his leg up, in the middle of pissing on the chair. I understood the fae’s frustration with a naughty dog, but abusing it wouldn’t solve the problem. The dog dropped its foot and ran to us, piddling the entire way. He was cute, I have to say, and I crouched, holding my palm out. He attacked me with kisses. While I could see his tongue pass through my hands, I couldn’t really feel how wet it was. He also peed a little, too.
“You dare greet that mutt before your liege?” Sythradiafol’s voice was as cold as the first frost of the year.
I straightened, a chill burning beneath my breastbone. I needed to speak the truth, otherwise my magic would make things worse. “You’re not my liege.”
Her campfire eyes flared. Mal and Ray froze, and for a moment, I thought she’d done something to them, but then I realized they were only holding themselves still. The dog sat on my foot.
The fae sniffed. “Truer words could not be spoken, but remember I am your better, girl.”
The frost burn in my chest amplified. I thought of my shoe collection. I had sky blue Converse shoes, I had lucky limeade green. I had eggplant, but I didn’t have lavender. I wasn’t sure I wanted lavender. It wouldn’t match much of what I owned, but really, neither did limeade green.
“Do you have the piece of the Blarney?” Sythradiafol asked after what felt like an age had passed.
Ray stepped forward. “They returned with the Blarney, completing the favor Penny Avalon struck with you.”
“Very well. The horticulturist djinni is free to leave.”
I assumed that meant Mags. I scanned the enormous room, but didn’t see her anywhere. I wasn’t about to interrupt this tense moment, though.
Sythradiafol extended her hand. “The Blarney. Now.”
Ray lifted the clear case. “I have it.”
My eyes latched on to it. Every time I saw it, I wanted to take it, to consume it.
She wiggled her fingers. “Give. It. To. Me.”
“Your deal with Penny Avalon was to bring the piece of the Blarney here to your estates, which she has done by proxy of her daughter.”
“Yes, I am aware. I made the terms.”
“So now I have it, and I’m making new terms.”
“You dare negotiate with me.” Sythradiafol took a menacing step forward as her lips pulled back to bare her teeth. “You are my dapifer. You do as I say.”
“No.” Ray’s expression switched to outrage. “You give me Hunter’s bottle, and I’ll hand over the piece of the Blarney.”
“Don’t forget who my nephew is, djinni,” she hissed. “One word from me, and he’ll have your lightlighter credentials revoked. He’ll bottle you.”
“I’m no longer an FBI agent, and he can’t bottle me, for there’s been no crime committed worthy of that. I’m offering you a trade: You give up mastery over Hunter’s bottle, and I’ll give you this fingernail.”
The dog’s wagging tail smacking my leg filled the silence in the room.
Anger tightened Sythradiafol’s expression before she stalked to a shelf of knick-knacks and snatched up a waterskin. As she wandered back toward us, green-black smoke billowed from it. A short woman with tanned skin, a riot of curls, and large eyes that took up most of her face materialized.
“Wow,” I breathed.
How could I not? She was gorgeous and sexy in a black, skin-tight leather bodysuit that accentuated her curves. I’d consider trading some of my chucks for her boots. The gold cuffs on her wrists overpowered my awe. Ray swayed on his feet, as if he were physically restraining himself from rushing to her. Now that I saw the two of them together, I wondered what it was about Ray that had made Hunter choose him. He wasn’t as hot as Mal, so he must have a winning personality when his wife wasn’t an enslaved djinni.
Ignoring us, Hunter faced the fae. “How may I serve you, Mistress?”
“Djinni, I wish for the ability to create doors to any bailiwick I desire.”
Hunter’s expression remained impassive, however magic scented like hidden shadows and faint copper wafted from her. “Your wish is granted. You have one wish remaining in your contract with this bottle.”
“What’s a bailiwick?” I whispered to Mal.
“A pocket realm for fae, similar to our bottles, just on a much larger scale,” he murmured.
My blood turned cold. If Sythradiafol could open a door to any bailiwick she wanted, did that mean she could also enter djinni bottles and enslave those while they were resting where they felt safe? My brain screamed for Hunter to add on a clause about bottles, but all she did was dissolve into her dark green smoke and disappear inside her bottle.
“Why did you have to make a wish?” My brows lowered over my eyes. “You said you’d give up your mastery of the bottle.”
The fae rolled her eyes. “I never said I wouldn’t use some of my three wishes.”
I was so angry, the room spun. “Why did you even need to make a wish if you have a piece of the Blarney?” A vise gripped my brain so hard that blood trickled from my nose. “What the hell is so important?”
I swiped at my nose, catching a soft current of wildflowers that lingered in the air before a wave of dizziness blew it away. The pressure eased from my brain. Mal gaped at me and Ray froze. The guards raised their spears but stayed by the door.
Sythradiafol’s orange eyes widened. “An iron bridge has been placed on my territory, and I need my ancestor’s assistance to have this attack rectified,” her voice monotone. “It took years to locate Hun-Hunahpu’s bailiwick, but I cannot access it without stepping into the Iron Realm.”
She really was pissed about Devil’s Bridge gaining a third iron bridge. I guess I’d be upset too if someone came along and left gold everywhere in my house, but I wasn’t about to empathize with her. I had to compete in a murder race and nearly died to get the piece of the Blarney for her.
Sythradiafol hefted the bottle in her hands, then glared at Ray. “I give up my mastery over this bottle. Now hand over the Blarney.”
They passed the items between each other. Glee replaced burning outrage as Sythradiafol cupped the relic in her palms.
I hungrily followed the movements, slightly alarmed by my reaction to the relic, and swallowed. “Where’s Mags?”
“Who?” she asked distractedly.
“The green-thumb djinni,” Mal said.
Everyone in the room startled at him. Even the dog on my boot yipped in surprise.
“She’s in the djinni room. I’m sure Ray here can find it in his icy heart to take you there.” She withdrew a glimmering tablet from a hidden pocket in her dress and placed it on the table with a click, smirking coldly. “You’ll need that to unlock her accommodations.” Then she left.
Ray stared at the waterskin in his hands, his breathing shallow. We crowded around him. The soft-looking leather had strands of gold-embossed chain-links along the neck. Some of the chain-links were single, like the one on Diane. My ex’s one wish. Some were two links fused together—as if it denoted how many wishes it’d taken to fulfill one request. The last link was just like that. There were at least a dozen or more wishes granted. How many masters had Hunter served?
“What are you waiting for?” I asked.
Ray’s head jerked up and he looked between Mal and me before clutching the bottle to his chest. “I know I’m not a lightlighter any longer, but the vow is still something I believe in.”
“What do you mean?” I crossed my arms, flicking a glance at the tablet on the table.
“‘Master of none. Servant to all’ is the vow all lightlighters take,” Mal replied softly. “It means we’ll never be a master to another djinni.”
“But she’s your wife. Trapped in there.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “A slave.”
“Just one second of being a master would taint me forever,” Ray said. “At least having her bottle, I can protect her.”
I sputtered. I was so angry I couldn’t form words. The dog
growled at my feet.
“You’d let her stay in there?” Mal asked, his voice dangerously quiet. “You went MIA to track her down, risked pissing off a fae, and now you won’t free her?”
Ray recoiled, his eyes zigzagging between us once more, before landing on Mal. “Is it true you were a master earlier this year? How could they let you keep your commission as a knight? How can you live with yourself?”
Mal’s brows rose as quickly as my heart sank into my stomach. I’d forced him to be a master, no matter how short-lived it was. I hadn’t known what I was doing, and hadn’t understood the consequences, but it didn’t lessen the renewed feeling of guilt. He tugged his shirt off.
I waggled my brows as I memorized the hard planes and angles of his body, noting his chest was hairless—which was a great indication his back was, too. His arms were well defined, and I itched for a hands-on exploration of his six-pack. I knew he was ripped. He’d been shirtless a couple times on our vid calls, but seeing him bare-chested in the flesh was a whole different ball game. Then I noticed the burn on his sternum. It was a perfect, two-inch square, right where the chain of ownership had connected to him when I claimed him as my master. I frowned. Sythradiafol hadn’t had a chain of ownership, and neither had Reese. It must be a djinni thing.
Mal squared his shoulders. “I wished for the djinni to have freewill. That one and only wish is why I can live with myself.”
Ray gaped at him.
If that was all he was worried about, then it was ridiculous. His wife, the woman he loved, was a slave to gold right now, and he was worried about a little mark? Screw that.
I held my hand out. “Give me the bottle. I’ll rub it.”
“Excuse me?”
“What’s a little burn when she could have her life back?” I sneered, pushing my sleeves back to reveal the burns on my wrists. My ears caught up with my words and I winced. “Not that I’m minimizing your burn, Mal, but the overall picture—”
“Lucy’s the djinni I wished to have freewill.” Mal pulled his shirt back on, more’s the pity, and raked his hair off his forehead.