A Thief of Nightshade (30 page)

She remembered how Grant had researched Jullian when they’d first started seeing each other. “Where is he from?”

“Do you remember when I used to take you horseback riding, Aubrey, when you

were

little?”

Grant

smiled

reminiscently, his dark eyes shining from the light of the moon. He laughed. “You were so afraid at first.”

“I remember. You had to promise me new ballet slippers to even get me to consider it. Where is he from?”

“You wore them to your first recital.

You are far braver than you realize.”

“Why aren’t you answering me?”

He stopped walking and took her hands in his. There was something peaceful about the night and the quietude that seemed to cover them like a blanket.

Only the moon with its soft blue radiance and the dull amber glow of the street lights invaded what would have been perfect darkness. She thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye and turned to see nothing but the shadow of the road sign.

“I’ve let you down,” Grant said.

“You’ve imagined that I was the one who walked you through everything when you were a child, but it was you all along. You could have turned your hurt into hatred for others, but you didn’t. You are strong, Aubrey. Without my help or even my blessing, you forged your own way and decided to go after what your heart wanted and because of that choice, you met Jullian. He saw in you what you’ve never seen in yourself.”

Aubrey drew a shaky breath. “Where is he from, Grant?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“You know I trust you,” she whispered.

He held her hands to his chest. “We just walked away from Samantha’s house.

I want you to think about who was there.

You felt something unusual. What was it?”

She’d sensed something in the woods, but surely he wasn’t referring to that. She thought about it. Then goose bumps swept over her as she recalled what Sam had said to her earlier in the day.

You need to get out of this house, get away from everything that reminds you of him.

“None of them knew Jullian,” she said solemnly.

Grant lowered his head. “We don’t have much time and I need you to fully have faith in me regardless of what happens.”

“What are you talking about?” She couldn’t hide the fear in her voice.

Grant pulled her closer to him.

“Listen, what do you hear?”

She did and was met with only the sound of leaves rustling. “I don’t hear anything.”

“No dogs barking, no children laughing. You’ve seen houses as we’ve walked, but have you seen a single light on? Have you seen anyone else besides your friends and family? Have you seen one single stranger? Anyone at all since you left the lake?”

Aubrey’s heart raced in her chest.

The movement she’d caught earlier had returned but tenfold, every alcove and recess around them undulating with shadows like living things possessed in agony.

“You crossed over when no one from this world has in over two hundred years.

Even then, she did not come of her own volition. Aubrey, your strength alone is what brought you to Avalar. Your love for Jullian is what woke the Dragonfly Oran from its slumber. That’s what you saw as you leaned over the water. And just like then, I need you to have hope now in what feels impossible.”

She shook her head. “Mother told me she slipped something into my drink to calm my nerves.”

Grant rubbed the chill from her arms.

“No. You spoke from your heart to Jullian in faith that he would hear you and he did.”

Aubrey heard something then, just as the air was whipping around them, she caught the faint sound of laughter, dark and wicked.

Grant pulled the Oran from beneath his shirt and pressed it into her hands, yelling over the now howling wind, “You

must fight the pain, Aubrey, it will not be easy. Close your eyes and hold on to me.

Whatever you do, don’t let go!”

She grimaced as the first stabbing pain ripped through her, threatening to pry her from his arms. Grant held her tighter, using his body as leverage against the whispery threads that lashed at them both, and spoke with authority in a language she didn’t recognize. The Oran burned white hot in her hands, worsening with his every word, but she clenched it firmly.

Suddenly, the ground fell away.

Ian hadn’t always been grateful for his wings, but now he was pleased with how fast they took him where he needed to go.

He landed just beyond the gates to the Winter Court, shifting as he approached the guards.

The Sidhe were a different breed of Fae than his kind. The appearance of the Fae–pale skin, shimmering eyes and wings of golden gossamer–gave the impression that they were harmless, pleasant even.

They were considered the blessed ones and as such had been sworn as keepers of the Winter Court and her Majesty’s army, but what it amounted to was an ideal that all Fae aspired to attain. Those who looked the most like the Sidhe were granted favor and standing in both courts, despite Oberon’s efforts at thwarting prejudice. Ian, dark-haired and with lesser wings, which were feathered and actually functioned in flight, had been forced to work thrice as hard in order to make it as far as he had. His only consolation had been that Oberon required those who swore the Griffin oath to not only be shape-shifters, but those with “lesser”

wings. Though the term “lesser” had been forbidden for centuries in Oberon’s court, it still slipped easily off the tongues of those who were out of the King’s earshot.

In all truth, he thought the requirement a brilliant move considering that no other Fae could fly and what better army than one with an advantage?

And it was that very oath—to protect Oberon at all costs—and the intensity of his feelings for Given that brought him now to Saralia’s doorstep. He was risking his life, but he knew it would pay off in the end.

The two Sidhe at the gate ushered him in without question and it wasn’t long before he’d passed through the center courts and stood before the Queen’s icy keep.

“You must be Ian. Come, she is expecting your arrival.” The Fae to the right of the door held out her hand as was custom for a female Sidhe. And as all “lessers” were expected to do, Ian bent his head reverently to kiss it.

She walked through the grand entryway and stopped outside of her Majesty’s library. The doors were open, revealing a small study lined with books of all shapes and sizes.

“Don’t stand there gawking in my doorway.” Saralia’s chastisement brought a grin to the Sidhe’s face, who winked at Ian before leaving him alone with the queen.

“Are you wondering why I don’t have personal guards, Griffin?” Saralia was looking down at a fragile book in her hands; the plain cover was frayed and the spine chipped.

Ian was somewhat afraid to answer her, but upon the turn of her head at his hesitation, he figured ignoring her would be a far worse mistake. “I suppose so, your Majesty, but only because his Majesty Oberon has...”

She snapped the book shut and tossed it carelessly onto the chaise lounge behind her. “Yes, I know which ‘his’ Majesty you are referring to. You needn’t say his name.” Her expression and voice softened then. “I don’t have guards, Ian, because I haven’t any need for them. We are immortal, after all, my brother and I. He just likes bossing people around. It isn’t like that here. Those loyal to this court are catered to with all the pleasures and rights that being a Fae affords them. Now,” she sauntered closer, holding her hand out to him, but instead of merely bowing his head, he kneeled on one knee and kissed the top of her hand with all the concentration of a last breath, “Tell me why you have come to my court. Morrigan tells me that you have quite urgent things to discuss with me concerning this human girl.”

Ian rose to his feet. “Cedrick has her trapped in a soul portal—”

Again, before he could finish, Saralia interrupted. “Who do you think put her there? You aren’t telling me anything new.

Besides, no one has ever come out of one on their own.”

He took a deep breath, the weight of what he was about to risk nearly too much to bear. If Ian failed to gain her Majesty’s favor now, his next sentence would be considered treason. “Cedrick released her and while she is still in a portal at this moment ... his Majesty will go in after her, if he hasn’t already.”

If there had been any color to drain from Saralia’s face, it would have. “My brother knows how much patience I have already exercised with him, considering who he shelters in his house.”

“I came to you because I can help,”

Ian blurted out. When Saralia didn’t respond, he carefully continued. “I have faith that his Majesty won’t fail in his efforts—he has an Oran. I can deliver both the girl and the Oran to you personally.”

Saralia smoothed the hem of her sleeve, which looked mildly worn from perhaps

that

action

performed

consistently. “I am well aware that she has an Oran. And if she still has the glamour potion and manages to get pulled from the soul portal, then she’ll walk right into my court on her own. What do I need you for?”

“It isn’t just any Oran, it’s the Dragonfly Oran. And I can’t say that Oberon isn’t willing to wage war if that’s what it takes to protect this girl. But, if I agree to go with her for her protection, he may hold back. He trusts me. I can get the girl to give the Oran to me for safekeeping, in case she gets caught. She could think to destroy it before you could get it from her if I don’t.”

“What’s in it for you?” Saralia asked icily.

“I want nothing more than your word on Given’s safety and peace maintained between the courts.”

Saralia laughed, “Is that all? Perhaps I should just give you my throne while I’m at it?”

Ian stood firm, the gravity in his countenance unwavering.

Saralia feigned reluctance. “Very well, then. Our agreement will be forfeit if my brother sends one single Fae along with you.”

Ian bowed his head. “Understood,

your Majesty. I will not fail you.” He bowed again and turned to leave. He was almost to the threshold when she spoke again.

“Why do you care what happens to Given?” Saralia asked.

Ian looked back to see vulnerability in the queen’s eyes. “Because I love her.”

The world had completely folded in on itself. Aubrey labored to open her eyes.

When she did, she saw utter darkness.

Distantly, she heard a voice calling her name, someone telling her to follow the sound, but all she wanted to do was close her eyes again and sleep, forget everything—forget the pain. She could no longer remember the cause of the excruciating loss, for nothing remained of it but emptiness and sorrow.

Don’t give in to the darkness, Aubrey. You don’t need light to see the path, just listen to my voice. Follow me.

The draw to go back, to shrink away from the voice was tremendous.

I’ve failed. What good would it do now? she asked the voice.

You’ll only fail if you give up now.

And it is not your time, Aubrielle. Your prince needs you.

My prince is dead.

No, follow my voice and I swear that you will see your prince again.

Jullian.

Yes! That’s it, fight it. Push your way through, focus on my words. Imagine yourself shedding the darkness that threatens to pull you down. Break through the surface, Aubrielle, you can do this!