Shimmer

by Sharon Ashwood

  And swore. Blacktongue stood in the same spot as before, theatrically brushing ash from his sleeve. “That might work on my soldiers, old friend, but I’m made of sterner stuff.”

  So Ronan struck, his huge jaws clamping on his foe. Even if Blacktongue could withstand dragon fire, he wasn’t immune to dragon teeth. He let out a wail of terror as the long fangs drove home. Alana’s involuntary cry was lost in the noise as the rest of the balcony gave way before crashing to the empty seats below. Ronan shook the sorcerer as a terrier would a rat. Then he flapped his wings, aiming for the Shimmer and his home.

  Alana hung on, leaning into the motion. She felt a little drunk, terrified and intoxicated to be in the presence of so much raw power. At Castle Highclaw, the dragons had been polite, chatty, and almost always in their two-footed form. This was her first clue about what they could really do—and how ruthlessly they could do it.

  But she shouldn’t have discounted Blacktongue so fast. Ronan’s nose was nearly at the Shimmer when light flared from the dragon’s jaws in rays of sickly green. A moment later, there was the sudden whump of an explosion. Ronan spun head over tail, wings thundering in a mighty effort to right himself. Alana gripped with her heels, desperately clinging to the bony plate with both hands. Unlike the magic carpet, Ronan had no spell to keep passengers from sliding off. Alana almost made it, but as the dragon’s head dipped toward the ground, she went upside down. She lost her grip and was suddenly falling, the air rushing in her ears.

  She curled into a ball, crashing first into one of the tables the scorekeepers used, and then to the sandy floor. Pain exploded in her head, the world spinning and going dark by turns. She forced open her eyes, desperate to know what was happening.

  Alana screamed Ronan’s name as the Shimmer closed, with Blacktongue and her dragon on the other side.

  18

  A month later, daisies were springing up in the graveyard, littering the grass with stars of white and yellow. Summer had come, and with it long, cloudless days meant for ice cream and vacations. Being unemployed again, Alana was sort of on vacation. The prize money from the fight—the cats had lost the moment they’d fled from the fighting circle—was generous.

  She touched Tina’s headstone before sitting in the grass. “I got them for you. I showed the Slash what we were really made of. Hugo Martigen is dead. Tyrell is hospitalized from a very nasty fall, and he and his crew are being held for treason.”

  Fae law enforcement was forgiving about things like parking tickets and drinking at the beach. However, if someone crossed a major line—then it was as relentless as a banshee. Tyrell was in deep trouble, and he would only be the first under the microscope. The investigation would be broad and thorough, and it was unlikely anyone would be spared from answering questions. The fae community was in for a shake-up, but in Alana’s books, that would be for the good.

  “The only downside is that the Shimmer is gone,” she said in a low voice. Tina had always been the one Alana had trusted with her secrets and heartbreaks. She still was. “I can’t get to Ronan.”

  Tears pricked behind her eyes. She’d cried her heart out for weeks—had even wondered if that was literally possible—but the well of her sadness seemed never to run dry. Alana wasn’t one to give in, but her fighting spirit had faded with Ronan’s loss. He’d taken a piece of her with him.

  She was on the brink of surrendering once more, except a shadow fell across the gravestone. Alana glanced up to see Barleycorn.

  This time, he seemed rested. “Congratulations on your victory. Spectacular interruptions aside, that was well fought.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “This is my first free moment since you set the world on fire. I’ve been meaning to speak to you privately, so here I am.” He sat on the grass, heedless of his pale gray suit, and gestured around them. “I think we’re free from eavesdroppers.”

  Alana leaned back on her hands, wishing he hadn’t come so she could grieve in peace. “Do we have unfinished business?”

  “Always.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I bet on you in the fight, and if Martigen was still in business, there’d be a handsome payout.” He gave a wry smile. “But then I’ve been betting on you for a while. I knew you could destroy that lamp, but you had to use the wish the way you did. I was counting on you living up to your reputation as the Incorruptible.”

  Alana’s head quietly exploded. “Dude, why didn’t you just tell me what to do when you came to my cell?”

  “Practical reasons.” He shrugged, the gesture showing off the broad shoulders beneath the exquisitely tailored jacket. “Spells like that have rules. You had to sacrifice your own interests. You can’t do that if you know everything’s going to turn out okay.”

  “That sucks!”

  “Try knowing the answer that could save the day, but having to keep your mouth shut. That sucks, too.”

  Annoyed, Alana sat up, dusting the grass from her hands. “I’m just glad it’s over. It is over, right?”

  “Corruption is defeated. The arena will be repaired. There will, however, be a strict no-pets policy at the fights.” He rested an arm across one knee, studying her with his blue-gold eyes. “What will you do now that the dust has settled?”

  Alana sighed, and it came from the bottom of her soul. “I don’t know. I’m done fighting for entertainment. When I was in the faery realm, I wanted to be part of Bright Wing’s battle. It was real, and being a warrior there mattered.”

  “The dragons need all the help they can get.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. When I first visited your office, you said I’d never meet a dragon—that they were too proud to adapt and survive. But they fought back. Against the odds, they’re still there.”

  “You respect that.” Barleycorn made it a statement, not a question.

  “Of course I do. I understand it through and through.”

  Barleycorn fell silent for a moment, as if turning that over in his mind. “Do you wish you could have stayed with Ronan?”

  “Yes.” She said it without hesitation. “I’d go there now, but I can’t. The mirrors don’t work. I tried Corby’s and Tyrell’s.”

  “The Shimmer is Shade magic,” Barleycorn said. “There are very few fae who can use it, even if they have strong magical abilities.”

  “Which I don’t.”

  He sighed. “No, you don’t. But I suppose we need to get you settled.”

  Alana wondered where he was going with this. “Are you offering me another job?”

  “Absolutely not. You didn’t stick with the last one I gave you. Instead, I’m going to tell you about mine.”

  “Now I’m really confused.”

  “Do you recall Morwenna?”

  “My faery godmother?” Alana said without enthusiasm. “I was such a disappointment that she quit.”

  Barleycorn pulled a face. “Yes, she was more the bunny and bluebird sort. You were a foundling, but the elders were sure your mother was a forest fae. They thought Morwenna would be a good match.”

  “They were wrong.”

  “True. But Morwenna was correct about one thing—you were destined for something besides waiting in a tower for a princely rescue.”

  “No kidding.”

  “After that announcement, she moved on to easier clients. So, long ago, I stepped in as a substitute for Morwenna.”

  Alana’s breath caught as shock zinged through her. “You’re my faery godfather? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “And be victimized by a teenaged girl wanting prom dresses and pumpkin coaches?”

  Alana was scandalized. “I would never!”

  “Oh yes, you would have. Everyone wants to fit in at that age.”

  “But I…” She trailed off, sorting through a jumble of memories. “I was a disaster. And then the fights… I wasn’t like I was supposed to be. It was hard. Why did you let me flounder like that?”

  “I didn’t
let you flounder more than was healthy for any young person finding their way in life. I’m just too skilled to be obvious. Give me that much credit, at least.” He grew serious. “Mostly, I wanted you to grow up to be your own person without magical interference.”

  Alana’s chest was tight with a confusion of emotions—resentment, surprise, and an unexpected sense of rightness. He hadn’t tried to make her something she wasn’t.

  “I’m glad I held back,” Barleycorn said. “You became who you are now. You don’t quit. You value justice and respect. Your chief strength outside the fighting circle is compassion.”

  “So I grew up in the school of hard knocks.”

  “And freed the dragon and rescued the prince, not to mention saving the world as we know it. Overall, I think I did okay as a faery godfather.”

  She smacked his arm. “Stop taking the credit.”

  “Ouch.” He rubbed the spot where she’d hit. “Anyhow, I think I owe you some sparkle dust now.”

  Barleycorn reached into his jacket pocket, then withdrew a blue velvet jewelry box. “This is for you. It was meant as a graduation gift, but you never went to college. This seems like an even better occasion for it.”

  Alana opened the box. A heart-shaped pendant set with sapphires rested on a white silk pillow. “It’s lovely,” she said, although she couldn’t think of a single place to wear something so fancy.

  “It will give you command of one spell for the rest of your life, whether or not you have magical powers.” He tilted his head. “No strings attached or fine print to read, but choose carefully because once your decision is made, you can’t change your mind.”

  Alana was instantly on her feet, mind racing forward. “Can you teach me how to use mirror magic? Can I visit the dragons?”

  Barleycorn’s smile said he’d expected her request. “You certainly can. Your prince awaits.”

  “Just do it,” Barleycorn told her several days later, once Alana had practiced summoning the Shimmer.

  She jogged from foot to foot, breathing hard from nerves. Before her stood a full-length looking glass in a stand. She could see her image, cheeks pink with excitement, the pendant flashing at her throat. She’d even dressed up for the occasion in slim black pants and a silky red blouse. “This will take me to wherever Ronan is, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What if he’s flying?”

  “For the last time,” Barleycorn said in quelling tones, “the spell isn’t stupid. Just go.”

  Before she could stall a moment longer, she pressed her palm to the mirror and exhaled. Ice seemed to shoot from the pendant to her belly, radiating down her limbs. She never saw the Shimmer form when she cast the spell, but she could feel it—the sudden presence of the other side and the vast, empty gulf between.

  It wasn’t easy to take that first step across. Not when she had to rely on her newfound powers. Fear crawled up her chest, leaving a copper taste in her mouth. Then Alana stepped across the void.

  Blackness. Cold. Solitude.

  And then she was on a mountaintop, the fae realm spreading like a quilt beneath her. She raised a hand to shield her eyes. Despite the brightness of the sun, the air was cool this high up.

  The mountaintop was actually a flat plateau large enough for several stone buildings. They ringed an open expanse of bare rock. She took a few steps, noticing the intricate carvings below her feet. They had a ceremonial feel, although she had no idea what the pictographs meant. Whatever this place was, it seemed very old.

  A dragon roared above her. She craned her neck to see a beast with spotted wings somersaulting in the air, clearly playing in the updrafts over the valley. The beast seemed smaller than Ronan, but it was hard to tell from the ground.

  “That’s Fliss,” said a voice. His voice.

  Ronan stood in the arched doorway of one of the buildings, his arms spreading wide in invitation. “Hello, Alana.”

  “Hi!” Alana ran toward him a few steps, then hesitated. All her fears tangled inside her—she wasn’t a princess, a dragon, or anybody special. Ronan wasn’t her slave anymore. He didn’t owe her a thing. Why does he want me?

  She couldn’t think. She could only feel, and even that was a jumble of excitement and dread and wonder and—and, oh, how she wanted Ronan so very much.

  As she stopped, his arms fell and he stood with his back to the doorway. His brows drew together in a frown, as if he wasn’t sure what was happening.

  “Barleycorn helped me get here,” she blurted. “It was about time he did something besides lurk around and play head games.”

  She’d planned to say something more sophisticated, though she still wasn’t sure what that might have been. And then she took in Ronan’s expression. It was guarded, almost devoid of emotion. How should she interpret that? Had his feelings for her changed? Or were they ever real? Now that he was free, and heir to a kingdom…

  On the surface, he was the same, his sculpted features kissed by the high mountain sun. And yet, he looked weary, as if he’d kept watch too many nights in a row. Right now, he regarded her carefully, as if not certain what to do.

  She wanted to tell him so much, to touch him, to hold him, but nerves pinned her where she stood. “What happened to Blacktongue?” she asked instead.

  “He fought hard, but he did not survive,” Ronan said, anger thick in his voice, but also a hint of satisfaction. “His forces and strongholds were demolished shortly afterward.”

  “Are you all right?” She came forward as well, stopping just out of reach. “That was a fierce explosion.”

  He shrugged, finally strolling forward. “I chipped a tooth.”

  “Should you see a dentist?”

  He gave her a suspicious look.

  “It’s okay,” she said, wanting nothing more than to reach out and take his handsome face between her hands. “They give you a free toothbrush. If you’re good, you get a prize from their treasure chest.”

  Good grief, she was babbling! Still, interest kindled in his eyes. Dragons liked treasure.

  But then he folded his arms, and the gesture was oddly self-protective. “There is something I need to ask. You know me as I stand here now, but in the arena, you encountered my other form for the first time.”

  “And what’s your question?”

  “After what you saw, are you afraid of dragons?” he asked. “You seem cautious now, even wary.”

  She laughed, and it felt like the first time she’d breathed in weeks. “You are magnificent.”

  His eyebrows went up. “But?”

  “I’m not. I’m just me.”

  He closed the distance between them in a single step. “Once I was free, the first thing I did was come for you. I had to. Nothing matters without you.”

  “So you’re okay that I’m here?”

  Smiling softly, he reached out, cupping her cheek. “Of course, Alana. You set me free in more ways than I can name.”

  She opened her mouth to say more, but nothing came. The softly possessive heat in his eyes stole her words, and all her fears melted like frost in the sunshine. With a sigh, she leaned into his chest, feeling the hard strength of his body. Even in his human form, he seemed more solid now that the lamp was shattered. Finally, they were together and free.

  “How is Bright Wing taking your second return?” she asked a long moment later.

  “My dragon settled all doubts,” he said with a smile.

  She looked up into his face. “I want to hear that story.”

  “Let’s just say matters can proceed on a solid footing. There are no secrets now, no compromises.”

  “They know who’s boss?”

  He chuckled. “Always respect the dragon.”

  “Perhaps you should put that on your business cards.”

  “Perhaps I should.”

  “How is your father?”

  “Back on his throne and roaring orders as if he never left it. We pushed the Shades back beyond our northern borders. Once he got a taste of vi
ctory, he remembered his crown. The air fae across the land are ecstatic.”

  Pride and love shone in Ronan’s face as he spoke, making Alana fall for him just a little more. “And you are his general again?”

  “I am, though Fliss is organizing patrols over the farmlands to keep our people safe. There is no shortage of hard work to be done.” Ronan swept a hand, indicating the scenery around them. “Do you know where we are?”

  Alana shook her head.

  “This is the Wheel.”

  Then she saw it—the carvings in the rock formed a circle in four quadrants that corresponded to the four fae elemental tribes: air, water, fire, and earth. “It’s deserted.”

  “But not dead.” He guided her to the center of the carvings, where a bowl was dug into the stone. “This is where the Council of the Wheel lit their beacon fire in times of trouble. It summoned the high king to bring his armies in defense of the land.”

  He knelt and spoke a word of power. A pale flame of magic sprang into the air. Alana blinked, mesmerized by the magical fire. This was a declaration, a bugle call that could be seen far and wide. Her warrior instincts, formerly flattened by loss, stirred back to life.

  “What happens next?” she asked.

  “We have a window of opportunity. Blacktongue has fallen, and the Shades must find a lackey to serve as their vizier. That was why he groomed Corby and Martigen—one of them would have eventually become the Blacktongue of your world.”

  “But isn’t my world safe?” Alana asked. “At least for now?”

  “For now. The Shades’ grip is weakened, and now is the moment to strike. Rumors claim High King Jorwarth went into hiding after his defeat. It’s time he returned. The air fae—Bright Wing—are ready to fight. Laren is working hard to bring the water fae to our aid. If enough faithful hearts answer, the fae will rule our realm once more.”

  Alana took a step back so she could meet his eyes. “I want in on that fight, if you’ll have me.”