by Chloe Hart
Maybe it was both. Jessica had seen enough psychopaths in action to know that for a few, there was a sexual component to killing.
Navril spoke again. “It is the accuser’s right to choose the weapons you will fight with.”
Edrik took a step back and looked her over again, as though he were assessing her.
“Knives,” he said after a moment, which surprised her. Duels were rare among Earth Fae but they were always fought with swords.
The knife was her least favorite weapon. Her greatest skill in combat lay with the bow and the sword. Had Edrik known that, somehow? But that didn’t seem possible.
Not that it mattered. If she needed to defeat this bastard with a knife, she would.
“So be it,” Navril said. “The duel will be fought tomorrow morning, three hours after dawn. You will be presented with a selection of knives at the field of combat to ensure that neither weapon has been ensorcelled or poisoned. Until then…”
She studied Jessica for a moment. “Until then, we will install you in a guestroom fit for visiting royalty—and my son’s future bride. But because I’m anxious to ensure that you encounter no further unpleasantness while you’re under my roof, you will be locked in—for your own protection, of course.”
Jessica understood very well. Navril didn’t trust her yet.
She should have expected something like this, but her heart still sank. There went any opportunity she might have had to come up with an alternative plan with Kel, or to try to rescue Mary before tomorrow. Jessica was confident in her abilities as a fighter but the thought that the other woman would live or die by her right arm made her stomach tense. But it seemed there was no other way.
“Mother,” Kel said coldly. “Is that really necessary?”
“For her protection, Kel. As I said.”
“Then at least allow me to go with her and bear her company until the duel.”
“I’m sure the princess would prefer to be alone, to rest and meditate.”
Kel looked like he might protest again, but Jessica stopped him with a look. “Your mother is right,” she said smoothly. “But we will have time to talk again, after I’ve killed your brother.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shudder pass over Edrik, and knew that his eagerness was sweeping through him. She felt a little nauseous at the thought.
“I will not make your dying easy,” he whispered now, just loud enough for her to hear him.
“I’m ready for rest and meditation now, Your Highness,” Jessica said to the queen. “And for food and drink.”
“Of course,” Navril said, signaling to her guards. “Anything you require. You will find clothing in your room, as well, should you wish to change.”
“Jessica.”
It was Kel. She turned to face him, and there was almost as much emotion on his face as there had been when he’d been kneeling in hopeless despair at Mary’s feet.
She watched him search for something to say. After a long moment, he shifted so he had his back to his mother and to Edrik. When he did finally speak, he mouthed the words so only she could see.
Thank you.
She nodded, keeping her expression cool. Then she dropped a low curtsey to Navril—an archaic tradition among her people, but one Fae children still learned—and accepted the arm one of the queen’s guards extended to her, in keeping with the illusion that her incarceration was actually hospitality.
* * *
The room that would be her prison for the next sixteen hours was one of the most beautiful Jessica had ever seen. The furniture was similar to what she’d seen in Kel’s room, and now that she had time to look at it she could appreciate the intricate carving and beautiful design. There were wonderful craftsmen in the Dark Fae realm.
The walls were carved, too, as Kel’s had been—and there were jeweled mosaics, as there had been in the queen’s council chamber.
After studying those for several minutes she went back to the windows. Of course the first thing she’d done after being locked in here was check the windows, but there was no possible means of exit that way—none that didn’t involve a plunge of a thousand feet, anyway. The outer walls of the fortress were free of carving or anything that might provide a hand or foothold.
Now she was looking out only to look out. The sun was setting over the forest, turning the lake far below into molten gold and touching the snow-capped mountains with fire. The mountain peaks above and around the fortress looked wild and fierce and lonely.
It was truly a beautiful world. One that deserved a better ruler.
A knock on the door heralded a servant bearing an enormous tray of food. He set it down on a table by the window, bowed, and left, all without saying a word, even though Jessica had greeted him politely.
She remembered Navril’s declaration that Edrik’s men could keep their tongues. Maybe this man had none. Navril might prefer to use mute servants to wait on prisoners.
There was too much food on the tray for one person, so she could pick and choose. She ate a little roast fowl, a little baked fish, and some light, fresh-baked bread with a soft cheese. She had apples for dessert. There was wine and green absinthe on the tray, but she chose to drink only water.
She wondered about the absinthe. Was it simply an ordinary spirit here, as opposed to the sacred ritual drink it was on Earth?
There were no books in the room. After she finished her light meal, there was nothing to do.
She remembered one of her early training sessions, when she and a group of young, eager warriors had gone into the Vermont mountains for survival and battle training. Around the campfire at night, their older mentors had regaled them with stories of battles and skirmishes and missions—stories that were exciting in themselves but were also filled with practical advice.
One of their teachers had told a story about his first mission, down in South America. He and his team had been concealed in the jungle, waiting for dawn to descend on a group of nocturnal demons who’d nested there. They had to maintain absolute silence while they waited.
“So you couldn’t talk to each other,” one of the young Fae had said.
“No.”
“So what did you do? Just sit there getting more and more nervous?”
The teacher shrugged. “There wasn’t anything I could do, so I went to sleep.”
That little lesson had stuck in Jessica’s head, as their mentor had no doubt intended. Warriors have a bias towards action, but sometimes the ability to act is circumscribed by factors beyond your control. When that happens, don’t waste energy worrying. And if the only thing you can do is sleep, do it. Sleep, after all, is a good way to prepare for action.
Navril had said there would be clothes, so she looked in the enormous chest at the foot of the bed. Tunics and skirts and shifts and trousers in various sizes, some simple and some elaborate. She selected a simple cotton shift to sleep in and folded her own clothes, laying them on top of the chest.
Lying in bed as the last of the sunset faded from the sky, Jessica went through the relaxation exercises that same warrior had taught them so long ago. When she was finished, she felt as close to peace as she could under the circumstances. Her body felt light and relaxed; her mind was clear and ready for sleep.
It was only then that she allowed herself to think of Hawk.
It was an incredible relief to let images of him come, as though she’d been holding back floodwaters by the force of her will alone. She’d been trying not to think about him from the moment she’d traveled to this world. But now that she’d done everything she could for Mary, everything she could to prepare for tomorrow, she felt like she’d earned the right to let her thoughts go where they wanted to go.
And they wanted to go to Hawk.
She was in love with him. And if she died tomorrow, she’d never have a chance to tell him. Because she’d run away from him before she’d realized how she felt.
She never used to be the kind of person who ran from her proble
ms, but there was no denying that she’d been doing a lot of that in the past few days.
Maybe it was because her problems lately had been with people: her mother and Hawk.
Jessica twisted restlessly on the bed. This wasn’t helping. Thoughts of her mother were too terrible, and thoughts of Hawk were too wonderful. And none of it was helping her right now.
She forced herself to go through the relaxation exercises again, and this time, she let the calm flowing through her lead her gently into sleep.
Chapter Twelve
She slept deeply and soundly, from just after sunset until well past midnight.
“Jessica.”
She came instantly awake, and found herself staring up at Hawk. He was sitting on the side of her bed. Moonlight poured in through the windows, shedding silver light on his pale skin and dark hair.
Electricity sparked through her. She knew immediately that she wasn’t dreaming, that Hawk was really here. Somehow, some way, he’d found her. The fact that she was in another dimension hadn’t stopped him.
In the rush of feeling that overwhelmed her, she sat straight up and threw her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she said into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry I disappeared like that. I should have told you what I was going to do, but I—”
His arms tightened around her as he buried his face in her hair.
“It’s all right, cariad.” he murmured, his voice muffled. “Everything’s all right now.”
Long before she was ready to let go of him, he detached himself from her very gently.
“Are we safe here?” he asked, glancing around the room.
“Yes. For now. But how did you get here?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off his face.
He gave her a rueful grin that made something tingle just behind her breastbone.
“I went a little crazy after you left. Evan found me in the park howling like a lunatic, and dragged me back to Blood and Whiskey. I told them all what had happened, and they agreed to help me find a way into this dimension.”
He looked out the window. “It’s daytime on Earth. Does time flow differently here?”
“No, it’s more like a different time zone. It’s about twelve hours difference, I think.”
Hawk nodded. “I hooked Celia up with my black market contact. He’s a warlock, and he had access to some texts and scrolls that Celia was able to translate. Between the two of them, they found a spell to create a portal stone. The stones don’t retain their power for long—we’re not sure how many trips it will take to drain them. And to perform the spell, you need to be near a rift between the dimensions. A true portal. We figured our best bet for finding one of those was in your mother’s mansion.”
Jessica gasped. “My God. Did you see her?”
“No. We used charms, and slipped in when she was away. And she does have a portal in her room. It’s in the shape of a mirror. Celia cast the spell, and created two stones—one for me and one for Liz.”
He patted his front pocket, indicating where his stone was. “To travel away from your home portal, you visualize a person or place in the world you’re traveling to and touch the stone. To get back, you touch the stone and it returns you to your home portal. Liz is here somewhere, doing recon—learning everything she can about the Dark Fae and this fortress. And I…” his voice trailed off, and he took one of her hands in his.
“I tried to visualize Mary first. All I could think about was finding you, but I’ve been Mary’s big brother for a century and a half, and I told myself my first duty was to her. But the portal wouldn’t work. Then I visualized you instead, and here I am.”
A shadow crossed his face. “I assume that means Mary’s not here…if she ever was. Or that she’s dead.”
Jessica squeezed his hand. “She’s not dead. She’s here, and she’s okay. But she’s in a prison cell, and that part of the fortress is warded against portal travel. That’s why the stone wouldn’t work.”
Hawk closed his eyes in relief. “She’s here. She’s alive.”
“Yes.” Jessica hesitated. “She’s alive, but…”
Hawk’s eyes opened again. “But what?”
And so Jessica told him everything that had happened from the time she’d left him, omitting only the fact that she’d told his sister, her fiancé, and the Dark Fae queen that she was in love with him. Just a few hours before she’d wished for a chance to tell Hawk how she felt, but now that she actually had that chance, she found herself unable to say the words.
But that, she told herself, was because the two of them had more important things to worry about right now.
“Jesus,” Hawk said when she finished. “Your fiancé is in love with my sister?”
“And she’s in love with him. It’s all very Romeo and Juliet.”
“A tragedy waiting to happen? That’s encouraging.”
“You should see them together. They’re so…dramatic. Intense. All doomed love and forbidden passion.”
He studied her for a minute, and the moonlight seemed to strike sparks in his black eyes, like stars in the nighttime sky.
He’s going to say it again, she thought, a sudden shiver running up her spine. He’s going to tell me he loves me.
And when he did, she could say it back to him.
But he didn’t. He dragged a hand through his dark hair, and shook his head slowly. “So now we only have a few hours to figure out our strategy.”
“Strategy?”
“How we’re going to get Mary out of here. I’ll take you home now, and then—”
“Hawk.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “Then I’ll teleport back to wherever Liz is. We’ll figure out a way to get down to the dungeon and—”
“Hawk!”
He heard her that time and stopped, cocking his head to the side as he waited for her to speak.
“I’m not going home. I’m fighting Edrik three hours after dawn.”
His jaw tightened. “No, you’re not. We’ll find another way to get Mary out of here before—”
“Hawk, you’re not listening to me. I’m going to fight Edrik. If I beat him, I’ll stay in this realm until Navril has honored her promise to send Mary back home—and you and Liz can get me out of here the second after that happens. If I don’t beat him…”
She paused. “I will beat him. But if I don’t, it would probably be a good thing for you and Liz to be somewhere nearby. You’ll have to try to sneak into the arena. Mary will be there, where the duel is happening, which means you’ll be able to use a portal stone—if you can get to her. But it would be you and Liz against dozens or even hundreds of Fae, so let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
He started to say something, and she held up her hand. “Please don’t waste time arguing with me. That’s the last thing I need right now. If you take a minute to think about it, you’ll know I’m right. Fighting this duel is the best chance we have of getting Mary out of here.”
For a few seconds he just stared at her, his jaw tight and his body tense. Then he stood up abruptly and began to pace back and forth across the floor.
Jessica didn’t say anything. She could sense the struggle going on inside him and there was nothing she could do but wait.
Finally he stopped pacing. He had his back to her, and for a moment he stood still, his shoulders hunched. Then he turned to face her again.
“Okay.”
Relief swept through her. “Really?”
“No,” he said, coming closer and looking down at her. “But I can fake it. Evan said something yesterday…”
“What?” Jessica asked after a pause.
Hawk shook his head. “Nothing.” He reached out a hand and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “You truly are a warrior,” he said softly. “And you’re risking your life for my sister. I…”
“What?” she asked again.
Now his fingers were threaded in her hair, making her scalp tingle. “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. And I
can’t force you to be less than what you are, just because I…”
He stopped. His thumb brushed her cheek, and pleasure coiled in her stomach.
Just because he what? Loved her?
This was when he would say it. And then she could say it back.
But he didn’t. He pulled his hand away and sat down on the bed again, but this time there was a foot of space between them.
“You don’t need to hear all that now,” he said. “Tell me about this duel. Will you fight with swords?”
Trying to bite back her disappointment, Jessica shook her head. “No. Knives.”
He frowned. “His choice?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Because I would have made the same choice, if it were up to me—and if I were fighting you. Even if I didn’t know you, I’d assume that the bow and the sword are your preferred weapons.”
“But why?”
He hesitated. “The sword and the bow impose a certain distance in battle. A knife fight is much more intimate.”
Jessica felt herself flushing. “You’re saying I don’t do well in intimate situations?”
“No,” Hawk said. “I think you do incredibly well in intimate situations.” There was a flash of heat in his eyes, and her stomach muscles tightened. “But I think that intimacy is new to you. I think you’re still more comfortable with distance.”
She crossed her arms across her chest. “I’ve trained in hand-to-hand combat since I was twelve years old. My teachers always spoke well of my abilities. Isn’t that the most intimate kind of fighting?”
“I’ve been on the receiving end of those abilities,” he reminded her with a smile. “I can attest to the fact that there’s nothing wrong with your technique. But knife fights aren’t won by technique. The edge in a knife fight goes to the one who’s willing to get close, the one who can be reckless and controlled at the same time. The one who trusts their instincts and isn’t afraid to look their enemy—or death—straight in the eye.”
The last time she’d looked death in the eye was the night she’d met Hawk. “I never used to be afraid of death.”
He frowned. “But now you are?”