Ace, Cruz, Lyoh, and Gregor were all there, waiting. All in black except for Gregor, who wore white.
Dusky shadows billowed in the space between their bodies. Not shadows. Unseelies. Many more wafted around the clear dais, limbs disconnecting and reconnecting as they craned their skulls to watch me walk past them and climb up the crystal steps.
There were so many of them that I wondered if any had left Neverra.
Cruz had said I wouldn’t be alone, but I’d thought he’d meant he and Ace would be there. Had he meant the Unseelies would add their numbers to our modest ranks?
Had they stayed to help us, or had the pages of Ley’s book not let them pass through the portals?
Once I reached Cruz’s side, Linus released my hand and went to stand next to his grim-faced wariff. As though sensing my arrival, the Cauldron appeared.
Cruz dipped his face toward mine. Slowly, he kissed my cheek. As he kissed the other, his breath carried quiet words into my ears. “Our allies wear white.”
I blinked at him as he pulled away and faced the Cauldron. The aria that had accompanied my walk came to an end, and in the silence that settled over the land, my deep heartbeats rivaled the sound of the bubbling Cauldron.
“Neverrians!” Linus’s voice boomed through the still air like a canon.
I jumped, and my pulse scattered. Ace’s palm glowed. Through my red glove, the top of my hand lit up too. A low hiss rose from the Unseelies closest to us.
The king lifted a gold goblet from a white marble platter. In time with him, the crowd below lifted gleaming goblets that twinkled in the obscurity like lighter flames during concerts. Soon Lyoh, Gregor, and Ace also clutched goblets, but didn’t raise theirs.
Cruz and I weren’t offered drinks. The Unseelies held no drinks, either. The strange fabric of their bodies probably didn’t allow them to hold on to anything, much less ingest anything.
“Tonight, a period of great peace is upon us!” Linus announced. “Tonight, our essences will join in the Cauldron of Life and forever bind us—Seelie and Unseelie—as one people.
“In the history of our world, never has there been such a momentous union, but let us hope it will be the first of countless others. Too many wars have torn us apart, and although a mist fashioned by our common enemies still separates us, tonight we set aside our differences. We push away the mist and stand united to welcome these two brave souls into our hearths and hearts.”
The Cauldron’s glow cast ripples of blue light over Linus’s satisfied face. He raised his goblet higher as he turned his attention to Cruz and me.
“Cruz, Catori, we thank you for your tremendous courage and sacrifice. May the skies bless you. May the skies bless all of our Neverrian souls.”
He drank his sweet wine in long, wet gulps.
In waves, everyone drank. Everyone but Ace and Gregor. They pretended to, but their Adam’s apples stayed still.
Over the lip of his goblet, Gregor’s eyes flashed to mine, but flashed away almost as rapidly.
Had he worn white by mistake, or was the man who’d tortured me truly an ally?
I swept my gaze over the crowd.
So many wore white.
I swallowed the emotion ratcheting up my throat and gazed back at the faeries standing beside me, found Lyoh studying me, cup clutched in front of her chin. She raised it to her mouth, but didn’t tip it back. As though she suspected the drink was laced with some drug, she brought it back down and curled her lips into a knowing smile.
Keeping my face blank, I lowered my gaze to the Cauldron. Metal clanked against stone as goblets were collected and disposed of. Another stretch of silence filled the darkness.
“May the joining ceremony begin!” Linus’s voice was fringed with delight and something else…something hot and slick that lacquered his wandering irises.
Energy crackled from the crowd below. Like smoke, it rose in wispy, pheromone-heavy puffs.
“Catori.” Cruz nodded to the Cauldron.
I concentrated on him again, on the sharp slant of his eyebrows.
I unglued my arm from my side and began reaching into the sputtering pit, when he said, “Your glove.”
I jerked my hand back, and white noise rushed between my ears. Pulling in a quivering breath, I rolled off my glove and let it drop.
“Both,” he instructed.
I cocked my head to the side and searched his face, wondering why he wanted me to reveal my tattered arm. Slowly, I removed the second glove, exposing my pockmarked skin. Lyoh’s eyes traced each one of my cuts as though trying to make sense of them, as though combing for a pattern. When her lids lifted a fraction of an inch higher, my nerves rattled as brashly as maladjusted piano keys.
I swung my gaze back to Cruz, searched his face again. Again I found nothing.
He wasn’t paying attention to his mother. His sole focus was Ace, who stood across the Cauldron from us.
Was it my imagination, or had Ace moved closer to it?
“Are you ready?” Cruz’s quiet voice lashed my eardrums.
No.
I was not ready.
62
Becoming One
As I plunged my hand into the Cauldron, the world turned hazy, faces blurred, flowers dissolved, lights grayed, sounds faded. It was as though the mist had risen and cloaked every living thing.
The gluey tangle of essences wrapped around my fingers like wet hair. It slithered and slinked and snarled, irrevocably anchoring my fingers inside.
Another hand sank into the hissing pit, its fingers twining around mine. The contact was so intimate I jerked my head up, and my gaze collided with Ace’s.
Had he—
Was it—
I swung my gaze toward Cruz, whose eyesight had sharpened to a point, a spikey point directed at the hand ensconcing mine. Unsure if this was planned, I tried to yank my fingers out, but the Cauldron didn’t let go. Fear that it would kill us sliced through me like a warm knife.
Something brushed the top of my knuckles. It took me a second to realize it was Ace’s thumb. How could he move if I couldn’t? Was it because it wasn’t supposed to be his hand inside the Cauldron?
What would it do to him?
To Cruz?
To Angelina?
Would the Cauldron reject our hands or would it plait our essences together?
My blood sloshed through my veins like an engorged stream. And my heart…my poor, poor heart clattered like the hooves of a thousand wild horses.
“What have you done, my boy?” Linus roared.
He walked tipsily, tripping over Gregor’s foot. The wariff caught the king’s arm and steadied him. Linus tugged on Ace’s black tunic sleeve, grabbed his arm and pulled hard. Either my ground scales had syphoned off his strength, or the Cauldron had moored his son’s hand, but Linus was incapable of tearing it out.
A powerful murmur rumbled around us. Lyoh barked at her son in Faeli, then turned to Gregor and screeched at him. He tipped his head toward the sky and let out a strange whistling sound that summoned a cloud of glowing lucionaga.
The vaporous bodies of the Unseelies levitated and eddied like a swarm of angered wasps around Gregor’s sentries. The momentum of the churning bodies kicked up my long hair and sent it flying around my face, strafing my eyesight.
The Cauldron flashed, and its green magic coiled around my wrists and forearms, slid beneath the fur cape, spread into my shoulder blades, and dripped down my spine. My muscles thrummed as they contracted, absorbing the magic they were being fed, and my bones hardened, as though they were being cast from steel instead of collagen.
When the magic reached my heart, even though chaos reigned around me, I stared deep into Ace’s eyes, and it felt like I was wading on the calmest of oceans, the gentlest of seas. His lips tipped into a quiet, conspiratorial smile, a smile that told me he wasn’t in pain, that he knew what he was doing.
As swiftly as the magic infused my body, it receded. Its glittery threads peeled off my skin, flo
wed back through the grid of my veins, and plunged into the faerie vessel. Unlike the last time, my skin didn’t prickle. It thrummed, sang, quivered with residual magic.
The Cauldron puffed a contented sigh, then vanished into oblivion.
For several seconds, I watched the empty space, not daring to breathe, not daring to move.
It hadn’t killed us.
I lowered my gaze to my hand, still linked with Ace’s.
Instinct, or perhaps desire, made me move toward him. Arms banded around both his shoulders, dragged him back, ripped his fingers from mine.
Fear snapped around my belly like a snare. “NO!” Cruz would know what to do. Cruz had a plan.
I sought him out, but he was neither beside me, nor in the dense mesh of bodies below the dais. “Cruz!”
I spun, squinted, yelled. Ace was still struggling against the lucionaga, growling as they tightened their hold on his writhing form.
A murky skull hit my face, breathing words that smelled like cold smoke into my ear. “They’ve arrived.”
I jerked backward and would’ve fallen into the chaos below, were it not for Gregor’s hand. He heaved me back up and steadied me.
“Wh-Who arrived?” I stuttered.
The skull turned toward Gregor before realigning with its ethereal body and soaring away.
The king’s elbow knocked into me as he stumbled off the dais. Two lucionaga dove for him, but white-robed men caught him, tossed ropes around his neck.
Unseelies and lucionaga flew overhead, spinning like a children’s top, like an iridescent tornado.
“Cruz!” I yelled.
Pushing hair off my face, I scanned the crowd for the red-robed boy I’d been supposed to marry, but found only the one I had married. Ace’s eyes were turned upward, toward the enormous black creature soaring toward us, a golden cage rocking in its elongated fangs.
Terror gripped my spine and twisted it…twisted it.
Why was the draca bringing a cupola?
For whom was she bringing it?
Her large leathery wings beat the panic-filled air, displacing Unseelie bodies. The mass of spectators began scattering, legs pumping. Some took flight but face-planted before they could get enough air between their feet and the marsh.
Had my scales done that?
I bit the inside of my mouth and tasted blood. Gregor was still holding me. I ripped my arm from his clutches and ran at Ace and the guards.
“Stay back, Cat,” Ace hissed.
“No.” My voice cracked. What the hell was happening? Where was Cruz?
Still clutching Ace, Silas and the other guard soared up toward the cage. “Cruz!” I yelled again, and suddenly he was there. In front of me. I waited for his orders.
His lips parted, but his command wasn’t for me. “Lock Ace in the cupola. Teach the prince he cannot take what is mine.”
63
Arrows And Dust
A scream reverberated inside my ears.
My scream.
I spun toward Cruz. “You…you…I trusted you!” There was a throbbing at the base of my skull that made the world narrow to a single point.
Cruz was that single point.
I threw myself on him, but he whooshed off the dais. My slippered feet slid and my body went airborne. I squeezed my eyes shut as I went down.
Arms caught me. A bearded man I didn’t know. He wore white.
I was supposed to trust people in white, but that advice had come from a man who’d deceived me.
“I got you, princess,” the man said.
I clawed his hands off of me, crawled away from him as best I could in my impractical gown, my nails clawing at the soggy earth.
A tortured howl pierced the night, echoing over the screams and grunts of the belligerent crowd. I flung my head up and found Ace kneeling in the cage, gripping his head. The cage hovered on its own now. The draca was gone.
The white-robed man crouched next to me and tried to help me up, or maybe he was trying to keep me down. I jerked up to my feet and cowered away, holding my hands out in front of me. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” Blue sparks flickered underneath my skin. I ripped my hands down and a scrap of mist broke from the dense quilt.
The man eyed the missing section, then his lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the dizzying pounding at my temples.
“Ace! Help Ace!” I shouted at the man.
Ace screamed again.
The man’s mouth opened and moved. I shook my head. “I can’t hear you!” I couldn’t hear anything over Ace’s keening pain. “Help him.” My voice broke. “Help him.”
The man tried to approach me, but I stepped back, bumping into a hard form. I spun, and my eyes went wide as they climbed the length of the body, taking in the hard angles of the man’s face, the silky black hair, the whorls of ink on the bare, muscled forearms, the deep-set dark eyes.
I knew this man.
His picture was in Ley’s book.
It was Gwenelda’s mate.
Kajika’s brother.
Menawa.
He ducked and spun as a lucionaga dove for him, and then a rope of iron chain curled out of his hands like a lasso and wrapped around the faerie guard. The sentinel screeched as he thudded against the earth.
Menawa dug an arrow out of his pack, nicked his skin, then held it over the screaming sentry’s chest. “Where is the draca?” His voice…his voice sent shivers skating over my skin. It was so much like Kajika’s, as rumbling and rough as the deepest of grottos.
If the guard gave him an answer, I didn’t hear it, because a shrill cry struck my eardrums. And then a body slammed into mine. Angelina’s. Her face was pale, her eyes wild and slick, her hair a tangle of vines and bruised petals, her rounded belly smeared with ochre mud. She screamed, and it raised the small hairs on the nape of my neck.
Shadows moved around us. Unseelies. “Give her to us, Catori,” they whispered.
“No,” Angelina cried, clinging to my battered arm so hard that blood trickled out of my cuts and stained her fingers like cherry juice.
“Let us take her,” the Unseelie breathed into my ear.
Angelina was my enemy.
I should give her to them.
But…but I couldn’t.
“She’s harmless,” I rasped. “Break the cupola. Free Ace!”
The vaporous bodies swirled once around us before sliding upward toward the cage. What could they do without solid fingers though?
The bearded man was before me again. “Princess…”
“Take her to safety.”
The man’s eyes slid to Angelina, and his forehead creased.
“Please,” I begged.
Angelina was squeezing my arm so hard. “No. Don’t let him take me. He’ll kill me. Catiri, please. Don’t leave me.”
Her pupils ate up her irises.
“He won’t hurt you.”
She shook with terror.
“He won’t,” I promised, even though it was an empty promise. I could only hope he didn’t harm her.
I pared her clinging fingers off my arm. Her fingers were wet with my blood. I almost told her she held the greatest weapon, but I didn’t. I may have been gracious, but I would most definitely not offer her a weapon with which to hurt people.
With which to kill them.
I pushed her into the man’s arms, and although she screeched, he picked her up and ran through the thrashing crowd.
Ace. I needed to get to Ace.
I looked for the cupola.
It had drifted toward the palace, a great distance from where I stood. I started running, but my speed was hampered by my mud-soaked fur cape. Without stopping, I scrabbled to unhook it, tugging on the diamond brooch.
Stuck.
Gritting my teeth, I yanked, and this time, the metal pin sprang open, and the burdensome fur tumbled off my shoulders.
To my left, Dawson was herding bloodied, muddied, white-robed calidum into his runa. One was cradling her forearm. Whe
re her hand should’ve been was only torn flesh and dripping blood. Bile rose in my throat at the sight of her missing hand. A growl ripped through the darkness, and then a courtier in a navy tunic was upon them, a golden orb clutched between his palms, lighting up his wild expression.
A chill seeped down my spine. When the man dragged his arm back, I screeched Dawson’s name. He swiveled his head toward me just as an arrow slid into the courtier’s chest.
The man gasped, and his ball of dust disintegrated. He tried to grab the arrow, but his hands paled and grayed, burst into a thousand flecks like the rest of him. Only his tunic remained. It drooped emptily onto the carpet of mist.
Across the murky field stood a young girl with a bow. Her dark eyes flashed to mine, and then, in one swift motion, she grabbed another arrow from her quiver, twirled, nocked it, and let it fly. A lucionaga plummeted from the sky.
The sky.
Ace…
My pulse ratcheted as I searched the darkness for the cage.
Please, let him be alive.
I located the gilt monstrosity over the floating palace garden.
Ace was kneeling inside, face pressed against the bars, looking straight at me. Could he see me or was his mind showing him something else…something terrifying?
I pumped my legs. The ground suctioned off my shoes, then sucked at my feet, but adrenaline and months of training compensated for the pull. I blurred past scuffling faeries, past crouched forms, jumped over fallen bodies.
I lunged through the pink arch, then latched onto the roots of a mallow tree, and biting back the pain radiating in the bone of my bleeding arm, I swung from a root to a vine to a root again until I managed to reach the spongy edge of the garden.
Digging my fingers into the earth, abdominals on fire, molars jammed tight, I clawed my way up, then threw my leg over and rolled. My maimed arm screamed in pain and my raging lungs burned, but I scrambled to my feet and sprinted over rock and moss and vapor, nicking the soles of my feet.
“Ace!”
He looked down. And then his bone-white face turned a shade paler. “Cat!”
He was conscious.
Rising Silver Mist Page 34