A Thief of Nightshade (32 page)

Ian returned his hand to her shoulder, this time with certainty that defied her to remove it again.

“Just what kind of price are we talking about here?” Aislinn said it only to rile Ian, Aubrey suspected, and it did. He practically came over the table.

“Not nearly as much as the price I’ll put on your head if you ever say something like that again.” Ian snatched Given’s left hand and tore off the leather bracelet she had worn constantly since they’d met her, revealing the reason she had done so. On the underside of her wrist, a pattern of sorts had been burned into her skin. “Do you see this? Do you have any idea what it means to be marked with it? It signifies ownership, property of the Sidhe, for whatever they wish, whenever they wish.

It means that day-in and day-out for six years the princess as a child endured every manner of depraved cruelty. And you would dare utter such a thing in jest?”

Given’s face was totally devoid of emotion, eyes unfocused as she faced the floor to her side, quietly tolerating Ian’s reminder.

Aubrey thought for a second, based upon the way he was bearing his claws into the wood of the table, that Aislinn would tear Ian’s face to shreds. Instead, he grabbed the bracelet and did the best he could to fasten it back in place around Given’s wrist.

Given finished securing the bracelet around her wrist before she turned cold eyes to Ian. “We both know that wasn’t necessary. But thank you for bringing to everyone’s attention that I was once considered an item to be bought and sold.

Let me remind you that I am no longer bereft of free will.” She rose from her chair and stepped out of Ian’s reach.

Given turned to Aubrey. “When you are ready to retire, I have a place for you in my room.”

AUBREY DIDN’T SLEEP WELL THAT NIGHT .

SHE
knew she’d had nightmares, but they weren’t the kind that stayed around. Only the dreadful feeling upon waking told her that her dreamless night had not been so.

Agincourt, in the daylight, reminded Aubrey of a faerie tale forest from a book she’d read as a child. The air itself seemed ripe with tiny glittering fragments of some great and magical thing. Oberon’s Fae, unlike those Jullian had described in Nightshade, were more than achingly beautiful—they were kind and gentle. And the knowledge that she now knew something of his world that he perhaps never would saddened her; it was this thought that lingered on her mind as she sat gazing out of a picture window to the enchanted world beyond.

“You should be resting, child. It’s almost time for you to leave and you’ve much ahead of you.”

Aubrey turned to see Oberon behind her and heard the scuffle of boots as his guards shifted into place nearby. “Do faeries dream as humans do?” she asked.

He considered this before sitting down next to her. The light from the window caught his wings and revealed veins of shining silver, woven artfully together like the lead in a stained glass window. “Why do you ask?”

“When humans dream, some see places like this—like Avalar. Do you picture a world where there is no magic and wonder what it would be like? As those from my world have wondered of yours?”

Oberon’s mouth curled into a peculiar grin. “Can you imagine a world without air?”

“It couldn’t exist,” Aubrey said.

“And so our kind cannot exist without the presence of the Lyr. So, you see, it wouldn’t occur to most to ponder otherwise.” Before she could ask, Oberon added, “Humans here, while they may practice magic, are not of themselves magical creatures. You were about to inquire as to how Jullian could survive in your world, but perhaps you are asking the wrong question. How could a world that has never seen magic imagine it?”

Aubrey thought of their dinner conversation the night before. “Who is to say that it never existed in my world? Or that it doesn’t in some small way?”

“Remnants. Like footsteps in the snow, the Lyr leaves traces of itself behind. Our kind came to Avalar because the Lyr was lessening in our world, just as it has lessened in yours.”

“Is that what is happening now?

Here?” Aubrey asked.

He nodded his head. “Yes. And all those who rely on it for life so too will lessen and fade.”

“You didn’t know, did you? What you were doing?” Aubrey thought it audacious to inquire, but couldn’t help herself.

“I was too young and too arrogant to think of anything but my own immortality.

When Given was a little girl, she would often ask me why I looked so different than her mother. I suppose she was politely asking why I looked so old. I suspect the same thought has passed through your mind?”

Aubrey nodded.

“I could retain the appearance of youth, but only at the expense of another. If I took a queen, as she does a king, I would be no different than Saralia. Aubrielle, I fear that I must be painfully honest with you. I will gladly lay down my claim on immortality, but as the differences in our appearance are great, my sister and I, so is our strength over the Lyr. There is a good chance that she knows of the vial given to you by the Madame. If you are caught in her court, she will kill you. You must beyond any doubt or hesitation be prepared for this. It matters not if anyone else has faith in you, you must first have faith in yourself; and child—your heart’s fears are as clear to me as glass.”

Aubrey turned from Oberon back to the window. “I don’t have a choice.

Whether I’ll succeed or not isn’t a consideration anymore. I am already dying, your Majesty—but even if I wasn’t, I would still fight for Jullian.” Aubrey then added in a whisper, “Even with all the fear in existence.”

Oberon paused for a long moment before speaking again. “Do your very best not to attract attention at the masquerade.

This won’t be an easy task, I know, but it is your best chance at remaining in the Winter Court long enough to defeat Saralia.” Oberon rose. “I think you’ve got enough to think about, so I will leave you with your thoughts. I merely came to give you this.” He took the Oran from his pocket and fastened it around her neck.

“She once belonged to Eila, Tabor’s beloved queen. Now, she is the only one left of her kind. Tabor must have had tremendous faith in your prince to place her in his possession.” He turned away, but paused before leaving. “Which means that your prince must have had equal faith in you.”

Aislinn didn’t trust Ian far enough to throw him and he certainly didn’t want the Griffin to be the one escorting Aubrey into the Winter Court. He knew that Given had saved some of the potion and he had spent much of the night debating whether to mention it to her or not. She obviously hadn’t wanted Ian to know that she had it.

And further, Aislinn wanted to know just how it was Ian had come about getting the potion in the first place. Aislinn believed Oberon when he’d told him there was nothing he could do to undo the curse, which led Aislinn to believe that Ian hadn’t gotten it from the King. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

“His Majesty wishes a word with you.” One of Oberon’s guards, a young male Fae, nodded his head politely as he entered the room where Aislinn had slept the night before.

“Come in, then.” He motioned for the Fae to let Oberon in.

“I

will

not

bore

you

with

pleasantries, young Prince. We’ve more important matters to discuss.” Oberon slowly walked in and took a seat in one of the wingback chairs at the center of the room. He then turned to the guards at the door. “I want you both to stand watch outside of that door and make sure my friend and I are not disturbed.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Both Fae bowed before leaving the room.

“Come, let us talk openly,” Oberon

said.

Given didn’t seem the least bit pleased about staying behind, but one way or another Ian had convinced her to relent and remain in Agincourt. She stood with her arms crossed and didn’t so much as blink when Ian walked up to kiss her cheek and bid her goodbye.

Beside Aubrey stood Aislinn, who was equally interested in what took place in front of them.

“Someone has a crush,” Aubrey whispered.

“Shut up.”

She hadn’t had cause for mirth in days, but her laughter came unforced. The tension between Aislinn and Given had been palpable for days. The previous evening, before Aubrey and Given had fallen asleep, Given had told her about how she’d kissed Aislinn. Aubrey normally hated soap operas and drama in general, but she loved this.

“Are you ready to go?” Ian asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Are we really walking?” Aubrey’s heels already hurt from all the walking she’d done.

“We aren’t far at all,” Ian said. “But we can take a coach if your furry friend here would like to travel separately. If we walk through the woods, we won’t be noticed. If we take the main road, we will be. The choice is—”

“The choice has already been made.

I’m not staying behind. Now, let’s get moving. Aubrey, your wounds will wear you out. Get on my back and I’ll carry you.”

“ARE YOU GOING TO THE WINTER

COURT?”

Given turned around, stunned to have heard Lipsey. “Sssh, not so loud. What are you doing here?” She was fairly certain the passage she was taking wasn’t well known, so how the little squirrel could have found it was beyond her.

“Aislinn told me to find you and go with you if you were going to the Winter Court. I followed your smell. So, I suppose if you’re going somewhere else, well, then I guess I won’t be going with you. Though, I could if you really wanted me to...”

“I should have known. Come on then,” she whispered. “We’ve got to hurry if we’re going to make it in time.”

“You sure are dressed up!” Lipsey said loudly.

“Sssh!” Given clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, pulling him up to see her eye to eye. “You’re going to get us caught of you don’t keep it down.”

He squeaked out a muffled apology.

She placed him on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “And yes, I am dressed up. I have to appear as a masquerade guest. My mask is in here.”

She patted her shoulder bag.

“I suppose I don’t really need a disguise.”

“No, you can hide in my cape just fine.”

The tunnel they were in was ancient, covered in cobwebs and all sorts of very unpleasant things. It was all she could do to keep from getting dirt and muck on her gown. After several more minutes of silence, they came through into the forest on the other side.

“Isn’t

Aubrey

going

to

the

masquerade?” Lipsey whispered.

“Of course and you don’t have to whisper now.”

“Why didn’t she wear a dress?

Maybe she doesn’t like dresses? I wouldn’t if I were a girl.”

Given couldn’t remember the last time she’d giggled, but she did then. “I