A Thief of Nightshade (38 page)

The Lyr swirled around her ankles and felt like thousands of tiny feathers brushing against her skin. But she did not fall.

She breathed a short sigh of relief when her foot hit solid ground again. “You gave me back the life I took for granted.”

She stepped across the second line. “I know that now, and I also know what you’d tried so hard to tell me.” She paused again, this time before the third and largest of the divides.

Jullian’s expression remained as still and emotionless as the lake had the moment she’d stepped off the dock. The looking glass ... the only mirror that can be shattered and put back together again ...

Saralia moved to stand behind Jullian. “You think you’re winning, but you haven’t made it any farther than your pathetic predecessor did.”

“Someone once told me that a very fine line exists between my world and this one.” She stepped over the final line and lost her breath as the Lyr moved to envelop her whole body. “Emotions, if strong enough, will carry us through. I’m here because you’re my husband and my love for you pulled me over. My past has no hold on me. This darkness...” Her words faded as she watched Saralia rush Jullian. Time slowed. Saralia had the crown in her hands ... reached for him.

This is the end. You must finish this!

A surge of energy ran through Aubrey and she knew then, somehow, that she had a choice. She could try and take all of the Lyr for herself, save her own life, heal her own wounds ... or save Jullian’s.

That’s why the Madame never made it across. It wasn’t about strength, it was about choice.

She gathered that energy into the Oran with all the strength she had left and looked back at Jullian. “This darkness has no hold on you.”

Saralia lowered the crown onto Jullian’s head, the power from it so strong that it forced his eyes closed.

Aubrey’s

body

gave

and

she

crumpled into a heap. She heard Aislinn roar and a fight erupt around her. The vortex beneath her ... the light ... had not changed color.

I was wrong. This is goodbye.

She squeezed the Oran, still warm to the touch and pulsing. Though she could not sing aloud, she sung to Jullian in her mind the only song that felt fitting.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme ...

Jullian opened his eyes to a blinding blue light and the dying echo of Aubrey’s voice.

“No!” someone screamed behind him.

He turned and strained to see Saralia right behind him, clutching at something on her neck.

The Oran?

Something black seeped from it into her skin, spreading like ink in her veins.

The scream had come from her.

Where am I? Where is Aubrey?

That’s when he felt the weight on his head and reached to tear the crown away.

Once he did, the light around him shimmered from blue to white. It faded until only traces of it remained in the pattern beneath his feet.

“Jullian!”

He

recognized

his

brother’s voice as it sounded to his left.

He pivoted and saw, to his shock, a giant bear. Seconds later, the bear morphed into his brother. Aislinn’s eyes had locked onto something beyond where Jullian stood.

“Aubrey,” Jullian choked. As he rushed to her, everything that had happened since his return to Avalar came back to him–their dance at the masquerade and her tears, the desperate heart-shattering cries as he’d pushed her into the Sidhe’s steely grasp with his own hands, the grief in her eyes as she’d looked to him for help and lastly, the sound of her singing waking him the night before.

He pulled her limp body into his arms, brushed the hair from her face.

Tears came as the knowledge of what she’d done for him fell on his heart. She had come to Avalar. She’d found a way to cross over and had fought her way here, defeated the Fae Queen. Aubrey had saved him and she’d saved Avalar.

“Aislinn, what’s going on?” He still couldn’t quite believe this hadn’t all been another one of his nightmares.

“Jullian, she’s not well.” Aislinn’s face was flushed with exertion as he knelt beside him. “Saralia sent a Time Wraith...”

“Ash ... no!” Jullian raced to look her over. His memory of what Saralia had said to Aubrey at the masquerade, of her wounds, took on a new and heavy weight.

“Please, no. Tell me this isn’t real. Tell me!”

Aislinn tugged the back of Aubrey’s dress aside to reveal the wounds that marred her skin. “She used everything she had left to make it here and fight for you.

I’m so sorry. She won’t remember you when ... if she wakes up.”

Something swung toward them and Aislinn blocked it with a sword. “Hang on Jullian, just ... stay with her. We’re not done yet. Saralia isn’t a threat anymore, but everyone else on her side...” Morrigan had come at them. “Don’t move. You don’t have your bearings back enough to fight.”

Jullian started to shift to his feet, one hand outstretched for the sword. Aislinn couldn’t fight to save his own life the last time they’d seen one another.

“Don’t even think about it,” Aislinn said, “this one is mine.”

“Cedrick!” Aislinn didn’t want anyone’s help with this, but an idea had suddenly come to him. Morrigan’s sword clashed with Aislinn’s and sent him stumbling to one knee. He quickly recovered and moved just in time to avoid a blow to his head.

Cedrick, who could take care of most of his enemies with the use of magic, dropped two Sidhe with a bit of dust from a pouch on his bag, and sauntered closer.

“Saralia’s right-hand man?”

Aislinn gained enough of a foothold to slice Morrigan’s forearm, but the upper hand didn’t last and soon their swords crossed and held. Aislinn grunted, “Yes it is. Could you do something for me?”

“Why should I do anything for you?”

“You turned my arm into a tin can!”

Cedrick grimaced. “Perhaps. Tell you what, I’ll do whatever you want if you promise I can have Saralia once we’re all through here.”

Aislinn daringly took his eyes off Morrigan long enough to glance at the Queen, who still writhed on the floor in pain caused by the spell Oberon had cast on the false Oran. “Without the Lyr, she’ll die soon anyway. She’s all yours.”

Morrigan snarled, “I should have killed you when I had the chance, Ellohim.”

He hooked one of his feet around Aislinn’s ankle, which brought them both to the ground.

“What do you want me to do?”

Cedrick asked, casually peering down at them.

Aislinn took both his feet and planted them against Morrigan’s chest, then pushed with everything he had. “Turn him into an ass.”

Morrigan hit the wall with a loud crack and slumped to the floor.

“Seems like he’s already got that under control. You don’t want me to just kill him for you?”

“A donkey! And no, I want you to take him wherever you’re planning on taking Saralia and make him work like the animal that he is. Or you’re more than welcome to eat him.”

“Isn’t this final showdown supposed to be drawn out ... you’re supposed to get injured

somehow,

make

the

final

vengeance sweeter, or something like that.”

“Oh no ... believe me, nothing will be sweeter revenge than knowing he’ll spend the rest of his life without opposable thumbs or toilet paper.”

Cedrick shrugged, reached into his pouch and waltzed to where Morrigan lay.

With the smallest bit of powder, Aislinn’s archenemy was turned into a baying donkey. The sight of it made his eyes water and that tickled him. He laughed under his breath.

He heard more scuffling nearby, but needed to catch his breath. That’s when he heard Given’s sobs.

She hunched over Oberon’s body, her head lowered to his lifeless chest.

Blood covered her right shoulder from what appeared to be a knife wound.

Lipsey quietly sat next to her, big tears rolling down his chubby cheeks.

Jullian approached Aislinn with Aubrey in his arms, as all movement in the throne room stilled. “Who is that?”

Aislinn cleared his throat as grief for Oberon, the King he’d never wanted to admit to even liking, reached his heart.

“That’s Saralia’s brother, Oberon.”

Tabor came around the corner, his huge frame swerving through the columns.

“He helped us win this battle, dear Prince.”

“Tabor,” Jullian sobbed. “What’s going on out there? Has the fighting ended?”

“No, but it will soon. Word of victory will reach everyone soon enough.

There has been much blood shed today.

All our kingdoms have suffered great losses. But, freedom always has a steep price.”

Cedrick, in quest of something to amuse and completely ignoring Tabor’s arrival, sprinkled a pinch of powder on Saralia. Once the magic had calmed her down, he hoisted her over his shoulders and announced, “I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain here. I assure you she’ll make a nice addition to my privy, where these graceful arms of hers will be holding my towels for the rest of her eternity.”

Aislinn weakly smiled. “Does this mean we’re at peace, Cedrick?”

“For now.” He noticed Oberon then and the playfulness in his expression faded. “My condolences, Princess.”

HARD
that her fingers felt numb, but she couldn’t stop crying. She wiped her face and glanced over when the Goblin King spoke, but barely mustered a nod in his direction.

“Come here,” Aislinn pulled her into his arms and hugged her.

“It’s not fair,” she sobbed. “Why is Saralia still alive when he’s dead? When Aubrey is still dying?”

Aislinn stroked her hair. “Saralia is dying, too, and would if Cedrick weren’t about to turn her into a statue.”

“I see before me,” Tabor said, “a room full of promise and life ... not death.

Aubrey will not perish from her wounds.”

“But, h—” Given was soon cut off.

“She will not perish because once we have returned to Agincourt, I will release the gift that I have already given her.” He motioned toward the Oran. “In this majestic creature is my life ... my connection to the Lyr. She’s had it all along. When the time arrived, she needed only to make the choice to place value on her own life.”

“You’re dying for her?” Lipsey asked.

“Yes, little one. It is a great honor, and the least that I can do to thank her for saving this world. My time has come.

Now it is time for a new generation to rule Avalar. But we must not do this here, in