Cleia frowned. “That’s good of you, but you’ve expended so much energy trying to break the wards. Are you sure this wasn’t too much for you?”
The other woman raised a fine sable eyebrow. “I know my limits.”
Which didn’t really answer the question.
Dion eyed the fae lady. Her narrow, pointed face looked gaunt. Magic at the level she’d been wielding it sucked life-energy right out of you.
Cleia sighed and pursed her lips. She might be queen, but Olivia was her top adviser, their relationship one of near-equals. “Just remember we’ll need you when we do break through.”
Olivia inclined her head.
“What if he’s convinced Rosana to accept his geas?” Cleia voiced Dion’s deepest fear.
A chill prickled his skin. He was fairly certain his sister wouldn’t accept Langdon’s geas for herself, no matter what the prince offered her. But she might accept it to save Adric.
“Then we’ll have to encourage him to break it,” Olivia replied.
“How?” Dion demanded. “A geas is almost impossible to break.”
“By the person who accepted it, yes,” Olivia said. “But not by the fae who set the terms.”
Dion’s mouth twisted. “Why would he break it? He’d love to have a Seer in his power for the next ten turns of the sun.”
Olivia moved a slim shoulder. “Then we’ll offer him something he wants more.” She pulled a gleaming iron dagger from a hidden pocket in her dress. “Meanwhile, I had one of our smiths make you this. It’s bespelled.”
Dion set down the coffee cup and took it by the ebony handle. Energy shivered up his hand. “A powerful spell.”
Olivia inclined her head. “It will slice through any spell the prince casts at you.”
He slipped it into his back pocket. “Thank you, my lady.”
Dion pulled Cleia closer, and the three of them gazed at the fog-covered court.
His fingers tightened on Cleia’s waist. A sun fae’s metabolism burned hot, and Deus knew, he needed heat right now. He was chilled to the bone.
“Tell me she’s getting enough to eat,” he rasped. “Tell me he’s allowing her to shift to her dolphin.” According to Rui and Fane, New Moon was crisscrossed by creeks and streams. There was even a pond big enough for Rosana to swim.
“Of course, he is,” Cleia said. “He knows a water fada will die if she’s kept from the water.”
Olivia made a small sound of dissent.
“What?” asked Dion.
“He may not consider that to a fada, time in a fae court can pass differently.”
Cleia’s gold-touched skin paled. “It depends on the fada.”
Olivia inclined her pointed chin in that cool manner she had, but Dion had seen her with his sister. In her own way, the fae lady loved Rosana. “Some adjust to our time, but others find it difficult.”
“She’s fine,” Cleia stated firmly. “He wouldn’t dare harm her.”
Dion’s growl came from the darkest, primal heart of him. “I hope you’re right,” he said in a carrying voice. “Because if Langdon hurts her, he’s dead.”
38
In the never-ending twilight of the cell, day and night blended together. Adric had no idea how much time had passed—one day? three days?—before the night fae finally ’ported them some food.
He fell on it, his starving body needing calories, and watched, worried, as Rosana just picked at hers. But after that, meals came on a regular basis: fish chowder for her, steak for him, fresh fruit and vegetables, crusty homemade bread.
They slept, woke, plotted. He paced the cell, nerves stretched taut at their continuing confinement in the small, dark space.
His quartz had completely recharged—another clue that in the outside world, more time had passed than they knew. He gave Rosana what healing energy he could, but it was her life-energy that was fading, and he wasn’t healer enough to fix that.
She grew weaker, edgier. She took to pacing the cell along with him, and when they curled up to rest, she felt warm, which was all wrong for a river fada.
And when was the last time she’d eaten?
Then the day came when she didn’t get up at all, just lay curled up next to the water trough, fingers playing in the meager trickle, her breath so light, it was almost inaudible.
He bent to stroke her cheek. It was dry, feverish. Even though he’d blocked the bond, he felt her receding from him.
“Angel,” he said brokenly.
“Amo-te,” she whispered. Love you.
He briefly closed his eyes—and then rose to his feet.
“Prince Langdon!” He stood in the center of the cell, spine erect, hands clenched at his sides. Prepared to do anything, even accept the bastard’s geas, in exchange for Rosana’s life. “Come to me—please. I’m begging you.”
Rosana lifted her head to hiss, “No, Rick!”
He ignored her to loudly repeat the prince’s name. “Langdon! Are you there?”
A whiff of metal and decay.
Adric scanned the cell.
There. In the corner to his left, a shadow coalesced into a man-shape.
He whipped around. Hot, angry words crowded his throat, but he forced himself to speak calmly. “Prince Langdon?”
A whisper from the shadows. “You called me.”
“Yes. Rosana”—his voice broke—“she’s sick. She needs her river. You have to release her.”
“So you’re ready to negotiate?”
A muscle in Adric’s cheek worked. Inside, his cat crouched, ears back, tail swishing angrily.
“As long as you let her out of here. She has to get in the water. Even that pond outside would work.”
A dark chuckle. “Soon.” The shadows settled again.
“No! Wait, you thrice-damned bastard!” He pounded his fists against the stones. “She needs out, now.” But Langdon was gone.
Adric flung himself at the door. “Somebody, please!” He hammered on the wood between the iron straps. “Let Rosana out. She’s going to die in here.”
When no one came, he threw his whole body against the door, slamming into it again and again, uncaring of the iron straps. But the heavy wood withstood his battering, and when it was over, all he had to show for it were several burns on his arms and hands.
And he was still alone in the cell with Rosana.
He bit out a vicious curse and stood there, hands fisted on his hips, head hanging.
Rosana moved restlessly. “I’m so thirsty…”
“I’m here, baby.” He rinsed the burns in the cold water and then sat down, easing her head onto his lap. “It’s going to be all right, you’ll see. Just hold on a little longer. Here, drink.”
Dipping the cup in the trough, he brought it to her dry, cracked lips. She murmured something unintelligible and sucked at the cup’s lip like a baby, tiny sips that had half the water trickling down her jaw.
But he heard her swallow.
“That’s it. Drink some more.” He urged water on her until she shut her mouth and turned her head.
Rosana dreamed she was a small girl again, floating in Rock Run Creek. Water flowed around her, cool and silky. She sensed her mama and papai on either side of her, but her eyes were glued shut.
And she was so dry, like she’d swallowed a desert.
“Shift,” her papai said in Portuguese. “You can do it, minha pequena.”
My little one.
Nostalgia cramped her stomach. How long had it been since anyone called her that?
And then something twisted and she was an adult again, watching her younger self play with her parents in the creek. Her father, big and black-haired like her brothers, his strong, proud face marked by the jagged white scar he’d received from a fae. Her mother, fine-boned and creamy skinned, with a heart-shaped face and blue eyes that always seemed to be smiling.
Rosana’s throat burned. “I miss you, Mama,” she whispered—and just like that, she was back in her little girl’s body again.
“You can do it,” Ula encouraged in her lilting Irish accent. “Shift, Rosie darling.”
She whimpered. “I’m thirsty.”
“I know. But I can help,” her mama replied. “Just open your eyes.”
But instead, Rosana opened her mouth to gulp down the river’s fresh, clear water. It didn’t help—she was drier than ever.
Her heart sank. “This is just a dream,” she said sadly. “Because I need to shift and I can’t.”
Her dad faded away and now she only sensed Ula.
“It is a dream,” she agreed. “But I’m really here. Now open your eyes, alanna.”
“Mama?” In the dream-river, Rosana’s eyes popped open. To her surprise, it was nighttime. The water flowed silver around her. On the nearby bank, bare trees scratched at the rising moon.
But her parents were nowhere to be seen.
Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.
Hot tears clogged her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing them not to spill out.
Gentle fingers brushed her face. “Not those eyes, alanna. The eyes you use to See.”
“Go away.” Rosana shook off her mother’s hand. “You’re not really here. This is just some night-fae trick.”
“Oh, Rosie. You still haven’t learned the most necessary lesson.”
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
“Trust,” Ula whispered.
“I do trust him. He loves me.” Her mouth curved. “He told me.”
“Ah, sweetheart. That’s wonderful. Trust between mates is a beautiful, necessary thing. But you also must trust yourself, trust your Gift.”
Rosana’s brows snapped together. “You sound like Colm. ‘Believe in yourself. If you don’t believe you can do it, then you can’t.’ But what good can my Gift do? It isn’t a weapon.”
“Oh, but it is. Touch him.”
She turned her head away. “Touch him? But I can’t See anything when I touch him. And how would it help anyway when we’re locked in this freaking cell?”
Hopelessness settled over her like a dark veil.
Ula moved uneasily. “I have to go now—I shouldn’t even be talking to you. But remember, Rosie. When you wake up, remember these words: Touch him.”
Then she was gone, and when Rosana forced her eyes open, she was in the cell with Adric pleading for her to drink.
To please him, she took a couple of sips. But she was so tired.
She closed her eyes, telling herself she’d only rest a minute…and slipped back into the dream-river.
39
Dion spent another almost sleepless night. Tossing and turning. Staring at the ceiling. Listening to his brother do the same.
By morning, he’d decided to trade himself for Rosana, to hell with the consequences.
The instant the sun peeped above the horizon, he was out of bed. He pulled on his clothes, sliding Olivia’s bespelled dagger into his pocket.
Tiago raised his head to peer dully at him.
“Go back to sleep,” he said and his brother dropped his head back on the pillow.
Overnight, the wind had dropped and heavy clouds had moved in. A storm was coming, rain this time. A daylong downpour from the air’s scent and feel.
His mouth curved dangerously. Water was his element, the more the better.
This time, he didn’t hide in the forest. Instead, he stalked back and forth on the grass in full view of the fog-covered court.
Daring Prince Langdon to make a move.
A movement behind him made him spin on his heel.
Rui strode out of the forest, scowling. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded in Portuguese.
“Go away,” Dion snarled in the same language. “That’s an order from your alpha.”
“Not when he’s acting like a crazy man.” Rui folded his arms over his chest, a rock-faced, stubborn-as-hell statue.
Dion ground his teeth. He knew Rui. If the shark fada had decided Dion needed him, an army wouldn’t move him.
“Then don’t interfere,” he bit out.
Rui shook his head. “This all started when I brought Merry back to Rock Run.”
Dion growled. “When are you going to stop beating yourself up about Merry’s father? You took that job with my blessing. The clan needed Lord Tyrus’s diamonds. You think I don’t ask myself why I didn’t dig a little deeper before letting him hire you? But unless you can turn back time, we both have to live with it. Merry is clan now. The night fae go after her, they go after all of us.”
Rui drew a breath. “With all respect, I’d take Merry, Valeria and the girls and run before I’d let her anywhere near those dark bastards. That doesn’t change the fact that this all comes back to me. I’ll go to the prince. Offer myself for Rosana.”
“No.” Dion clamped a hand on his shoulder. “You, Tiago, Jaxon, Ed—I know every single one of you would trade yourself for Rosana. But that’s not the way.”
Rui regarded him through hooded green eyes. “Then why are you out here all alone?”
Dion simply looked back at him. But Rui knew him too well.
“Exactly. If you go to the prince, I go at your side. I demand this not only as your second, but as your friend.”
Dion exhaled.
“I’ll go.” Tiago stepped out of the trees, jaw set, hands balled at his side. “As alpha, you’re not expendable, and neither are you, Rui. I am.”
Before Dion could draw a breath to argue with him, Marjani, Fane and Jace were there as well. They took up a stance next to Tiago. Jace was in his black panther form. He fixed emerald eyes on Dion, while Marjani folded her arms over her chest, a shorter, wiry imitation of Rui.
“This concerns us too,” Fane said.
Dion shook his head. “It appears we have a mutiny,” he muttered.
“I’m going with you,” Marjani said in a tone that brooked no argument. “The new moon is two nights away. If Adric is executed, the clan goes down, too. He’s the only one who can hold us together. And we won’t survive another Darktime. You don’t have the right to ask that, even to save your sister.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” His heart clenched for Rosana, but he made himself continue. “I apologize, I should’ve come to you first. I’m not…thinking too clearly these days. What do you want to do?”
She blinked, taken aback, but quickly recovered. “Not here,” she said with a glance around. “Back at the motel.”
As Dion nodded, the air shimmered and Cleia ’ported in. “By the Sun Goddess.” Her amber gaze raked over the six of them. “I hope you’re not planning what I think you are. Because the prince would like nothing better for you all to go charging in there. If he captures even a few of you, he wins. He won’t even have to negotiate with us.”
Marjani growled lowly.
Cleia took her hands. “I know, my dear. It’s your brother’s life on the line. But don’t forget, he has Dion and Tiago’s sister—this is personal for everyone here.” She released Marjani to speak to all of them. “I’ve talked things over with Olivia and a couple of my top warriors. They agree with me that the prince is playing a deep game, manipulating us so he gets what he wants. And we all know what he really wants.”
“Merry Jones,” whispered Marjani.
Jace’s tail whipped back and forth.
“Yes. And I agree, it’s an impossible choice. But I promise you”—Cleia’s beautiful face was fierce—“I won’t let him execute Adric. Now, let’s all go back to the motel. I have news for you. Good news. We’ve got some planning to do.”
Marjani, Jace and Fane exchanged looks, and then the cougar fada lowered her chin in assent. “We’ll listen. But I’m not making any promises.”
40
A key scraped in the lock. Adric lurched into action, snatching up Rosana and scrambling to his feet.
He waited with bated breath as the door swung open to reveal a tall silhouette with a pair of gleaming eyes. The shadows arranged themselves into a night
fae female in a warrior’s trim black uniform, her jet hair slicked back in a perfect ponytail.
He shoved past her, Rosana cradled to his chest. “She needs to get in the water. Now.”
Two more warriors, both males, waited in the hall.
“The prince has granted your request,” the female said. “If you’ll follow me…”
“I know the fucking way.” His inner GPS would get him to the surface.
“As you wish.” The men flanked him, and she followed behind.
A few twists and turns, and he was at the stairs leading up to the black marble foyer. He took them at a run. In the foyer, the tall door once again opened as he approached. He jogged up the steps leading to the outside and sprinted the fifty yards to the pond, the long-legged warriors loping alongside him.
Dusk had spread its gloomy fingers over the compound. A few night fae had already emerged from their lairs, but although he caught them eyeing him and Rosana with interest, they stayed out of his way.
He lowered Rosana to the grass beside the pond and stripped off her clothes. The three warriors hovered over him until he snarled at them to back off. “She’s not going anywhere.” Shifters were used to being naked in front of one another, but he was damned if he’d let these cold-eyed fae ogle his mate’s naked body.
The female inclined her head, and they all moved a few steps back.
Dragging off his own clothes, he picked up Rosana again and strode into the icy pond. When it reached his waist, he lowered her into the water.
She shrieked and flung out her arms like a startled infant. One hand latched onto his shoulder in a death grip.
He frowned. “Easy now. It’s okay. You’re in the water now. You can shift.” He bent his knees, submerging her to the chest.
“No!” She shook her head wildly. Both hands clamped around his neck.
“Shift, angel.” He lowered her a little deeper, but she clawed at him, climbing his body like he was trying to drown her.
What the fuck—?
“Rosana.” He gave her a shake. “Shift. Change to your dolphin.”
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