A haunted look touched his eyes. The one that lingered behind them every so often. The one he always tried to pretend away.
Brows gathering tight, she slapped his arm. “Spill it now.”
Clearing his throat, he glanced down at her. She was basically wearing a catsuit today. She wasn’t sure if the armoire created clothes based on the day’s events or some subconscious desire she possessed, but she was fairly certain she’d never had any latent desire to walk around like Catwoman.
Still, she did look darn good in it, if she said so herself. Like Catwoman meets Poison Ivy. Kinda hot. Cain would have approved.
“Give me a hug.”
Taken aback, she tried to ignore the voice in her head that was screaming that something was definitely very wrong here. “Idris? Why are you acting like this?”
Opening his arms, he didn’t wait for her to go to him. Instead, he pulled her in tight and squeezed. Flint, not knowing what else to do, clung tight to his broad shoulders.
It was surreal that she’d only known about having a cousin for a few days, but in that short time together, they’d bonded tighter than she ever could have believed possible.
Maybe it was the fifty years trapped in that wormhole with him that made her feel like she’d known him forever, but from the moment she’d met Idris she’d felt a connection to him.
One that’d even made her question her own bond to Cain for a while. It was nice to know there’d be no icky romantic entanglements between her and zombie boy, but still… he was worrying her.
Inhaling deeply, he stepped back but continued to hold on to her hand.
“The final test doesn’t begin for a few hours yet. I wanted to come and visit with you for a while first. You’ve been asking me for days to talk about us, and I haven’t wanted to, but I’m ready now. So ask anything you want.”
He sat her down at their table, a table now overflowing with plates full of delicious sweets and savory treats.
Smacking her lips, she reached for a strawberry tart with a generous dollop of cream on top and smiled, tipping it toward him in a silent gesture of thanks before taking a decadent bite out of it.
The thing melted like sugary butter in her mouth.
“You’re spoiling me rotten. You’re ready to talk. So either (a) this means I’m still dreaming, or (b) you expect me to die in there today. Which is it, zombie boy?”
He chuckled, his pretty amber eyes aglow with laughter. “From the moment Graham told me of you, I knew I’d like you.”
She gasped and forgot all about the dessert in her hand. “You knew about me even back then?”
Nodding, Idris stared deeply into his goblet of crimson wine. “I was the one who sent Graham to look for you in the first place.”
“Wait”—she held up a hand—“but I thought Graham was exiled?”
“Yes. He was. And once he was out there, I told him to find you and build a connection of trust.” He took a tentative sip of his wine. “The fae are not who you think we are, Flint.”
She shivered. He was calling her by her God-given name, which meant things were serious now. On the one hand, it was exciting to know she was finally going to unlock all the secrets. On the other, the fact that he was doing this before her trial and not after was still highly suspicious.
“I gathered as much.” She stared at the pastry she’d squished between her fingers, wrinkling her nose at the mess she’d made. Plopping what was left of the mangled mess back down onto the plate, she wiped her fingers with a napkin. “I’ve been studying you for a while now.”
“And what’s your conclusion?” His gaze was unwavering, as though it was of critical importance that he learn what she really thought.
“That you do care. You care a lot. The outer coldness is nothing more than a defense mechanism.”
He shrugged. “I could have told you that.”
“I’m pretty sure you were the one who did.” She laughed, then reached over and plucked a grape off its stem, popping it into her mouth.
They settled into a relaxed silence for a bit, him sitting and sipping his wine and she contemplating what their future held and if there’d even be one.
“Idris, yesterday when you told me the sacrifice wasn’t going to be mine alone, what did you mean?”
Sighing, he set his goblet down. “Doesn’t matter right now, halfling.”
“Then what does matter now?” she asked with a hint of impatience.
“Getting to know each other.” He grinned broadly, showing off his pearly, slightly sharpened teeth.
“Why?”
Leaning back in his seat, he rubbed his jaw, his brooding gaze intense and measuring. “I’d learned a few years ago,” he began slowly, “of kin I had. For years I’d thought myself The Ciardah’s lone heir. Then one day there were murmurings of a halfling, of an illicit affair that resulted in a bastard child who was trapped in the mortal realm.”
She lifted a brow. “So why seek me out? Wouldn’t you worry that I’d try to come in and steal your kingdom?”
Shrugging one shoulder, he looked around the room. “Wealth has never meant anything to me. The false obeisance of the sidhe, the political machinations, the constant grabs for power… I did not want this life.”
“Ah. I see.” The grape that’d gone down so sweetly sat like a rock in her gut. “So you were looking for me to pawn it off on me, not because you actually wanted to meet your cousin.” Flint expected him to deny it.
“Yes.”
Kudos to him that he didn’t.
“That’s exactly right. But I figured you’d want it—who doesn’t want limitless power, wealth, and a crown?”
“Me.” She shook her head. “I have a life. A home. A sort of fiancé, or maybe a mate, I can’t really decide. Point is, I have a life outside this place. I wasn’t raised for this life, Idris, I don’t—”
“I know.” He cut her off with a sad smile. “I see that now.”
“So Graham told The Ciardah about me, and Grandpappy lured me in. Can I assume that you maybe had a hand in all of this after all?”
His lips thinned, but his silence was as good as a nod of affirmation. Feeling betrayed, but not really sure why ’cause it wasn’t like she’d known him nearly long enough for it to hurt the way it did, she turned her face to the side.
“Look at me, Flint.”
The world was a Dali miasma of colors at the moment. Huffing at the wetness gathered in her eyes, she shook her head.
Not to be deterred, Idris was up and out of his chair a moment later, kneeling before her. His handsome face was serious and full of an emotion she couldn’t quite put a finger on.
“The moment I met you, I knew what I’d done. The mistake I’d made. I risked Graham’s life, and yours, and all in a pursuit to avoid my own responsibilities. For that I am sorry, sister.”
He gently touched her knee.
Her brows screwed into a frown. “We’re not siblings, Idris. We’d be cousins—”
But he was shaking his head and interrupted her before she’d finished. “In your world, maybe. But on fae soil the blood that runs through our veins makes us more akin to brother and sister than cousins. We’ve the blood of royalty, Flint. The Ciardah’s line is ours too. In the eyes of my people, you are my sister.”
She sat still, hardly able to even blink as she absorbed the impact of those words, and then she asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “Is that why our bond is—”
“So strong?” He finished for her, and then nodded. “Yes. Because here, we share not just blood, but spirit. My Callisto. My heart.” His thumb rubbed gently across her knee.
It was the first time he’d called her such, and it was also the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. The tears she’d fought so hard to contain came rolling down.
“I should hate you forever for this. For putting not just me, but also Abel, in danger this way. No wonder you were so willing to put your neck on the line with The Ciardah for me.”
She sniffed, rubbing her nose miserably.
“The moment I saw you, I changed my mind. I knew what I’d done was wrong.”
“Why can’t you just tell The Ciardah no? Abdicate the throne or something—I think that’s what it’s called. Give him the flying bird and tell him to eff off?”
For a second his lips twitched with amusement. “Would that I could. But that is not how fae politics work.”
“I don’t much care for the fae.”
Leaning in close, he whispered, “Neither do I.”
When he pulled back, she couldn’t help but grin at him and he at her with a conspiratorial gleam, as though they both shared a secret only the other knew.
“So are you and I it? Aren’t there any more children?”
Snorting, he said, “Are you asking me to do the same to another as I did with you?”
“Well”—her shoulders slumped—“when you put it that way.”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
Flint grabbed his hand when he looked about to pull away. “Idris, I’m not asking this for me, but I need your help to free Abel. I know I’ve probably lost every challenge so far, but he can’t be a part of this. He needs to live.”
Patting her knuckles, he gave her a warm smile. “Don’t worry, Flint. One way or another, I’m making certain your friend will leave today.”
“You promise?”
“With all my heart.”
“Idris.” She stilled him with a light touch to his hand when he made to stand. “I hope you can figure out a way to not have to assume the throne.”
His face turned suddenly contemplative. “The Ciardah is not happy with me. I think we can safely assume now that I will not be so honored.”
She frowned, sensing there was some hidden meaning behind those words. But he didn’t give her a moment to contemplate.
“Now”—he stood, then helped her up as well—“I think we should start making our way down to the stadium, don’t you?”
“We’re not done with this conversation.” She held a finger under his nose. “I still have a ton of questions.”
“I didn’t figure you were.” He laughed. “You’ll know everything there is to learn about yourself and your kind, sister. Not to worry.”
Pursing her lips, she gave him a “you’d better” look before following him out the door. Nervous as she was, there was also some calm in knowing that she’d already failed the exam and now there was nothing left but to pass the extra-credit round.
Today was about nothing other than getting Abel out of the land of fae and freeing his mind. That was it.
It was definitely liberating not to have to worry about the outcome of today’s events. Of course, there was the whole stag scenario to look forward to, which was a real bummer.
But as Scarlett O’Hara would say… After all, tomorrow is another day.
69
Flint
Everything happened so quickly that she barely had a moment to take stock of her surroundings.
Idris was whisked away by Lord of the Rings-looking orc monsters in heavy chainmail. The dragons that’d been winging overhead the previous two days were all gone save for Crystal, who’d come and commanded Flint to get on her back immediately, and then the land literally slipped away to nothingness.
There was Flint, Crystal, and a navy sea of sky filled with stars for as far as the eye could see.
“Crystal?” Flint squirmed, so scared at this point that she’d gone as cold and still as a statue as she stared around at the absolute blankness of the world. “What’s happening?”
The powerful dragon’s wings beat a steady tattoo as she glided peacefully along the cloudless sky.
“This is your final test, darkling.”
“Yes, but where are the people? Idris? Abel?”
Flint could hear Crystal’s smile as she said, “They are where they should be.”
“And that is?”
“For you to find out. This is the test of intellect.”
Heaving a mighty sigh, Flint said remorsefully, “So this is one giant riddle for me to figure out?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly. Well, yay, that’s great. So where do I go from here?”
“To the beginning.”
“The beginning of what?”
As they flew, the scenery never changed. Literally just remained fixed. A scrolling skyscape of stars. It was like being stuck on some bizarre acid trip where nothing really existed and yet you knew you were the only one who realized that.
She shook her head. That was way too trippy, even for her. Flint wasn’t much of a scientist, but she knew one thing, matter existed.
She existed. Crystal existed. The stars existed, ergo existence existed.
Gah, she was giving herself an existential headache.
“Where is he?” Crystal asked.
Clearing the cobwebs from her head, Flint gave herself a mental shake. “Do what? Where is who?”
“Your friend?”
“Abel?”
The great big black head nodded. “Yes. Where is he? It all starts at the beginning. He is where you saw him last. So where is he, darkling?”
Okay, that question was hella confusing, but… “The mirror?”
She hadn’t meant for that to come out as a question, but she was gonna roll with it.
This intellect crap was hard, man. Why couldn’t it have asked for the value of pi? At least she’d stand a sliver of a chance of passing that question so long as they only asked for the first three numbers.
“No. The mirror is merely a construct. A gateway for you to see to where he is. But you already know. You put him there.”
Shocked, she blurted the first thing that popped into her head. “Um, no. You guys snatched him away from me. You put him somewhere, not me.”
The sky reverberated with the massive dragon’s laughter. The rolling of scales beneath her bottom was a surreal experience that Flint was sure she’d never forget in a thousand lifetimes. Yelping, she flung herself forward and gripped the saddle’s pommel with the strength of Hercules.
“You almost knocked me off,” she grumbled at the beast, no longer as scared of the dragon as she probably should have been.
Crystal turned her sinuous neck until she was nose to nose with Flint and said in a heated shiver, “If I’d wanted to unseat you, darkling, believe me I would have.” Lavender sparks of fire danced through her eyes.
Transfixed by the sight of that dark and dangerous beauty, Flint could only pray the dragon had decided against eating her for her impertinence.
She swallowed hard, then breathed a ragged sigh when Crystal returned her focus to flying.
After several minutes of tense silence, Flint dared to ask, “Where is the beginning, Crystal?”
“Only you can know it,” she said without preamble.
“Genesis?”
“What?” the dragon asked, now sounding confused.
“Never mind,” she muttered. Clearly they weren’t talking about something biblical here. “Ugh. The big bang?”
Crystal’s silence led Flint to believe science wasn’t involved in this either.
Was there a time limit on intellect? Because if so, she was in major trouble here.
What was Abel doing now? Was he awake? Or still in his comatose state? Cain had said Janet woke up. Which meant something was clearly happening with Abel, something hopefully good.
Flint needed good.
From the moment they’d landed in this damned—
She gasped. “I woke up in Malise’s forest.”
With a mighty roar, Crystal breathed a jet of flame, curled her wings tightly around her considerable girth, and proceeded to roll into a death spiral.
Flint screamed, flinging her arms across her face as she braced for the bone-jarring impact of landing.
“Why do you scream?” The chilling voice she’d never forget was what finally made Flint stop.
Heart thundering like gallo
ping hooves in her chest, she looked up with a mouth that tasted of grit and grass and stared in confusion at Malise.
“What… what… Where am I? How did—”
The red leaves of Malise’s hair twitched, the marching ants on the sides of her face moving faster and faster as though energized or infuriated by something.
Black eyes blinked twice before the grotesquely pretty face said, “You’ve been here the whole time.”
“No. No, I haven’t. I was up there, now I’m down here.”
“Are you sure?”
Flint paused, startled into self-reflection. Was she sure? No. She wasn’t sure about anything at this point. Had everything she’d already experienced only been a dream? A mad hallucination? Had she ever even left this place? Or was she still stuck in limbo somewhere in the dirt?
Frowning, she made her way onto shaky legs and then looked down at herself.
She wasn’t in the catsuit. She was wearing the robes she’d worn when she first arrived.
“Wait. This doesn’t make sense, I wasn’t—”
“Ye hear that? It’s a devil, I tells ya,” a scratchy voice that almost made her want to sing with joy at hearing it echoed through the dark of the woods.
“Wormwood!” she cried, racing toward the voice.
“Wha’ the bloody hell!” the voice squeaked. “How do it know me name, Phenome?”
Flint practically tripped over her own feet to get to them. “Stop! Wait!” she cried out, reaching out a hand and hoping against hope that they’d hear and wait.
This was real. She was real. And it had all happened.
A groan sounded behind her. Deep and monstrous, it made her skin crawl.
The unexpected sound was aberrant enough that it forced her to stop midflight and turn to look. Why had that sounded so familiar?
Straining to hear it again, she listened. She hadn’t been alone in these woods the last time either.
There’d been eyes.
Go back to the beginning…
“She ain’t comin’ no more. We gots to get her, we do.” One of the rat-faced brownies said it, and she frowned harder, yanked unceremoniously from her epiphany.
Why were they coming for her when before they’d acted like they didn’t know her?
The Complete Tempted Series Page 78