According to Collith, there were entries to his court all over the world. One existed in the very woods we’d married in. He informed me there weren’t any roads or sidewalks leading to it, so when I went inside to pack, I pulled on a pair of hiking boots, as well. Next, I went to my nightstand. Where most women kept lotion, vibrators, or a trashy romance novel, I had a small weapons cache. I regularly doused everything in holy water. Now I pulled out Dad’s knife, along with a sheath to hold it in. It settled around my waist more loosely than normal—I must’ve lost some weight during my time with the goblins.
In the entryway, I hesitated. Should I turn off the water? Lower the heat? Pack some food? Ideally, rescuing Damon wouldn’t take as long as that, but I had no idea what to expect from the Unseelie Court. What if some of the old wives’ tales were true, and time worked differently there? What if something went wrong?
I’d never been the optimistic sort. Two minutes later, the water was off and the thermostat had been adjusted. My backpack bulged with energy bars and stale chips. As an afterthought, I used the bathroom, too. Then, at the door, I pulled out my phone. It was still recording, since I’d never pressed the button again. I did so now, then opened a new text. I selected Bea and Cyrus from the contact list. For a brief moment, I considered adding Savannah, Damon’s girlfriend. It seemed cruel, though, to give her hope when I had no idea how this rescue attempt would go. Leaving her name untouched, I switched back to the new text screen and typed quickly.
Got another lead on Damon. Not sure how long I’ll be gone. I’m sorry.
My thumb hovered over “send.” Guilt pricked my heart as I imagined what this text would do to them. But there was no other option. If I called, Bea would try to talk me out of it. If I delayed going, Damon would endure even more torment. So I clenched my jaw and sent the text. It was too quick, too easy.
After that, I didn’t let myself look around or say a silent farewell; I just left. The key—never used, since there was no need to lock the door out here—was hidden under a miniature David statue. I took it out and put it in the lock.
“We need to hurry,” Collith called.
Pocketing the key, along with my phone, I began to rush toward him. Gravel crunched with every step. I paused beside the van and glanced at the passenger seat. After a moment of considering, I opened the door and retrieved the mirror. I didn’t know what it did, or whether Collith wanted it back, but I’d seen Damon in it. That meant it was staying with me. I ran the rest of the way to Collith. There was a sense of urgency around him now, and it only increased my agitation. Without another word, he turned and plunged back into the thicket. We’re coming, Damon, I thought as I followed.
Moonlight filtered through the canopy overhead, shining a spotlight on the spot we’d made our vows. My gaze found the tree we’d kissed against and skittered away. Oblivious, Collith shortened his strides to walk beside me. He didn’t speak. It seemed strange that he should be wary of the night; to me it felt safer. The incident with the slavers notwithstanding, the darkness had always been a refuge. A haven. A time when misunderstood creatures could creep from their hiding places and stand out in the open. Even now, I felt my powers stirring. Stretching and cracking like a joint too long unused.
“How did you know about Damon?” I asked abruptly, stepping over a fallen tree. I thought about digging a flashlight out of my bag, but that would only draw attention to us. “What he was, or that he was my brother?”
Collith scanned the shadows around us. His reply was distracted. “I’ve noticed him before. A Nightmare’s essence is unique, even one that isn’t particularly strong, like him. When I came across you at the market, I saw the physical resemblance immediately. Undoubtedly siblings. Twins, perhaps.”
“No. I’m a little older. Where did you see Damon?” I frowned. “Wait. What do I look like to you?”
At this, Collith focused on me. Despite the dimness, the force of his attention was almost tangible. “Dark hair. More red than brown, I think, in a certain light. Brown eyes and fair skin. There’s the slightest bump in your nose. Was it broken in your childhood, perhaps? I’d heard that Nightmares appear differently to every individual, but I suppose I thought it was another myth, like vampires and sunlight or werewolves and a full moon. So it’s true?”
I was too stunned to answer. Too dazed by a single, impossible realization.
Collith could see my real face.
“Now it’s my turn,” I heard him say. “What’s the story behind your name?”
Still shaken, I stared at Collith blankly. I would have to think about his ability to see my true face later. “My name? Why?”
He gave an elegant shrug, barely perceptible in the faint starlight. “We’re mated. I’d like to know more about the one I’ll be spending my life with.”
His words created a flutter of panic in my chest—I tried not to consider the length of a life or the magnitude of what we’d just done. Even if I were to leave him, he’d always be there. A presence in the back of my head and in my veins. No, don’t think about it. “Well, Mom was a professor of ancient religions. In Rome, Fortuna was the goddess of chance, luck, and fate. My parents figured our lives would be difficult enough, being what we are, and I could use all the help I could get. Also, they just thought the name was beautiful.”
“It is.”
Thinking Collith was making fun of me, I turned to glare at him. There was nothing but sincerity in those eyes, though. I looked away and cleared my throat. The ground was beginning to slope upward; I chose where to step more carefully. One slip and I’d be tumbling. “She named Damon after a story,” I added. I had never been prone to revealing details of the past, or even talking, but right now it was better than silence. It felt like Collith was using the stillness to pry through my thoughts. Could faeries read minds? “He was a character known for friendship and loyalty. They taught us to look out for each other. Always. The name suits him, too. He’s one of the best people I know.”
Collith was silent, but I was thinking of Damon again, remembering that terrible image in the mirror. Guilt gripped my stomach like food poisoning. All this time, I’d been living up here, while he was being tormented down there.
“It’s your turn,” Collith said abruptly.
“What?”
“To ask a question,” he clarified.
“Oh.” The ground had leveled out now. The trees around us were more bare, like starved soldiers lined up in tidy rows. Collith stepped in front of me to lead the way. I studied the back of his silky head, my thoughts turning to our destination and how little I’d learned about the fae. The ones I’d met hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, and Mom admitted during our lessons that most of what she knew came from folklore. According to the stories, they had an aversion to iron, couldn’t tell a lie, and were immortal. While many castes of Fallen had lives much longer than the average human’s, we still died eventually.
There was a tinge of desperation in my voice as I blurted, “I need to know more about the Unseelie Court. Is there a … hierarchy? Is the faerie imprisoning Damon powerful? Who are you to them? How will they react to me? How—”
“Breathe, Fortuna. I know you’re eager to save your brother, and I’ll tell you what I can.” Collith was about to continue when a sound reached both our ears. It was faint, barely louder than the rustling leaves, but something about it made my heart quicken. We stopped at the same time, straining to peer into the darkness.
“There,” I whispered.
Through the trees, something moved. A tall, reedy shape, rapidly coming toward us. In that moment, I realized what I was hearing.
Panting.
The sound was excited, ragged, and hungry. I knew my eyes were huge as I turned to Collith. He was already looking back at me, his expression grim.
“Run,” he said.
We burst into motion. Suddenly the moonlight and shadows seemed sinister, and I kept my eyes trained on Collith to block out the fear. Every breath felt too loud. The backpack thumped against me, a steady rhythm in contrast to my wild pulse. Whatever the creature was, it was faster, and I could sense it getting closer. The sounds it made echoed all around us. “I’ve seen you vanish into thin air,” I managed to say, my lungs burning. “Just go. I’ll be fine.”
“’Til death do us part, remember?” Collith gasped back.
“Looks like that’s going to be a lot sooner than either of us expected.” But his words reminded me of the vows we’d just made. Reminded me of the ones I had chosen with the intention to keep. I promise to keep you from harm to the best of my ability. I had only myself to blame, really.
I steeled myself for what was about to come next. “Fine. Let’s kill this thing together, then.”
Without waiting for Collith to respond, I spun to face the creature. My fingers reached for the knife at my hip, grasped the hilt, and pulled it out of the sheath. Within seconds Collith was to my left—I didn’t turn to look, but I felt him there, a spot of cold. No, it was more than that. Like we were connected by a string, and it tugged within me each time he moved or inhaled.
The creature attacked in a burst of clacking teeth and swiping claws. My father had taught me self-defense as a child, and since then I’d practiced the movements so often they were embedded in my bones. I reacted on instinct, throwing out the heel of my hand. The execution was perfect, and the creature’s momentum was so forceful that my strike sent it reeling. It shrieked—more in surprise than pain, I thought—and recovered quickly.
When it came at me again, I retreated hastily, waiting for a good opening to bring the knife up and into its gut. At this proximity, I could make out the details of what I was fighting. This thing had been human once; I could see every rib, every ridge along its spine. A white film covered its pupils. Tattered clothing clung to those emaciated limbs and strands of long, dark hair tickled my cheek.
Just as I was about to make my move, Collith was there. He had no weapons, but he fought like he’d been born doing it. I watched with raised brows as he dodged the creature’s swipe and gracefully swung his leg up. His foot connected with its chest, and once again, it went flying. I didn’t give the creature a chance to stand; I darted forward and shoved my knee against its narrow chest.
It screamed with rage and tried to sit upright. Gritting my teeth, I slammed the knife through its eye socket. But … nothing happened. Just a slight waft of steam from contact with the holy water. The thing was stronger than I anticipated, and when it shot up again, I fell backward. Something in the backpack shattered. Suddenly I was the one trapped against the ground. The creature’s weight made my arms tremble as it lunged again and again, trying to bite and rip. It moved so quickly I had trouble tracking it. “Intervene at any time!” I shouted to Collith. A glob of drool landed on my forehead.
Then the weight on top of me was gone, landing hard a few feet away. This time it had no opportunity to stand. With an expression of intense concentration, Collith held up his hands. Light and heat burst forth, burning the creature and everything else around it.
“Heavenly fire,” I breathed. My mother used to tell me stories about Prometheus giving humankind the gift of fire, or God crafting his angels a weapon of flames, but I’d never seen it with my own eyes. Not even pictures. It was nothing like I imagined; not a blaze of orange and red, but an explosion of blue, green, and white. Lightning.
The creature released one more scream, but the sound quickly subsided. It slumped, reduced to a black skeleton. Once it was completely still, Collith lowered his hands. The fire died, but moonlight shone through the treetops, allowing me to examine my mate. He was pale and trembling. “I’m no dragon,” Collith murmured, referring to a species talked about even more than Nightmares, “but I’ll be damned again if I let my mate get killed so soon after finding her.”
“There’s no such thing as dragons,” I said automatically, moving to support his weight. He looked ready to collapse.
Collith apparently didn’t have the strength to argue. He leaned on me, breathing hard. No wonder he’d taken so long to get that thing off me—apparently he’d been summoning every drop of strength and power he had. “The door isn’t far. Half a mile,” he said.
“Well, if we meet another one of those things, we probably won’t survive another yard, much less half a mile.”
With visible effort, he shook his head. “It takes an extraordinary amount of energy and personal sacrifice to harness that kind of power. Whoever was responsible won’t be able to repeat the spell. Do you have enemies, Fortuna? A witch, maybe?”
“I only know one witch, and she wouldn’t do this.” The knife was still in my other hand, but I didn’t put it away. Every sound and shadow felt threatening now.
The rest of the journey to the door was slow going. We shuffled along, the bats above us the only sign of life. Now and then Collith muttered guidance, but beyond that, we didn’t speak. At last he lifted his head and said, “There.”
I followed his gaze. I didn’t know what I’d been imagining, but it looked like nothing to me. Just a cave—a word that would be generous, in my opinion, as it was more an opening in the rocks—without any sense of power emanating from it. “The trick is to expect more,” Collith whispered. His lips brushed the tender skin below my ear, and I couldn’t suppress a shiver. Though I didn’t look at him, I felt Collith smile.
Together, we moved toward the entrance. It was too small for both of us, so once we reached the outer edges, I finally released him. The sense of anxiety surrounding Collith had vanished, replaced by a seemingly impenetrable calm. Without any parting comments or words of wisdom, he put his hand against the rock and stepped into the yawning darkness.
But I lingered in the open air. All my instincts writhed and roiled, insistent that I belonged up here. Beneath those voices of reason, like an ancient beast at the bottom of the sea, was a feeling that if I followed Collith into the Unseelie Court, I would never walk out again.
Picturing my brother’s face for the thousandth time, I forced myself to go in.
My outstretched hand collided with Collith’s chest; he’d waited for me. He captured it against him and pressed a fleeting kiss to my fingers before letting go again. I was so startled that I froze for an instant. Collith was already moving again, making his way through the cave. The sound of his footsteps grew fainter, and after a moment, I hurried to follow. The dark had never unnerved me before, but now every line of my body was tense. I blinked rapidly, straining to see something. Anything. I kept expecting to hit a wall or to reach the end. Instead, it kept going, and going, and going.
Eventually the path slanted downwards. The air cooled with every step, but thankfully, low temperatures didn’t really bother my kind. Several times I started to ask Collith how much farther, or what awaited us below, but the words stuck in my throat. Though there still wasn’t any detectable power in the air, it felt like we were being watched. I held the knife tighter.
Flickers of light appeared ahead. My heartbeat was a drum, echoing all around. I strained to hear voices or footsteps. Were they waiting for us? Was there a guard? We drew closer, though, and I saw they were just torches. In her lessons, Mom told me faeries avoided technology, but I was still surprised at the sight of them. The flames were small enough that they left no smoke in the air. Faint shadows quivered on the walls. We kept going.
Now the cave widened, and Collith dropped back to walk beside me. His arm brushed against mine, a shock of arctic skin. Suddenly he straightened. His stride became swift and confident. All traces of exhaustion vanished from his face. He was the faerie I’d met at the slave market, collected and formidable. That familiar half-smile curved his lips. “Were you faking the whole time?” I hissed.
Collith glanced at me sidelong. “I suppose you’ll never know. But please, try not to speak. I’d like to avoid drawing attention to us.”
I fumed silently. Then doors began to appear on either side, unevenly spaced apart. Slowly, my rage was overpowered by curiosity. I took the opportunity to study this place, the center of countless fairy tales and horror stories. Within those pages, the Unseelie Court had been entirely glass chandeliers and grandeur. Reality was slightly disappointing. The walls and ground were rough, made of earth and roots. The ornate doors were an oddity. Someone had taken the time to carve intricate designs into the wood. No two were the same. I saw vines, faces, mountains, rivers, figures. I resisted the urge to ask Collith about them.
Gradually, the dirt around us became rock. Again, it seemed that someone had taken the time to lay down individual stones and give this place a semblance of elegance. The tunnels broke apart, becoming a maze of choices and turns. I’d never been good at puzzles, but I did my best to memorize our route.
Despite Collith’s words, we saw nothing and no one. When he finally halted in front of a door—this one covered in carved flowers—I was beginning to suspect his warning was just an attempt to avoid my questions.
“For however long you’re at Court, these will be your rooms,” he said, pushing the door open. It had no knob. “Should you need anything, there’s a rope here. It’s attached to a bell. Someone will hear it ring and come.”
“Wait, so you live here?” I blurted. “In the same place Damon has been held prisoner? Why haven’t you—”
The sight of another faerie inside the room made me forget the rest. Collith didn’t acknowledge him, but the stranger cowered as we drew near. He was fine-boned and shorter than my mate. Still taller than me, though. His hair was silky and light. Not red, exactly, but like the color of the sun’s outer edges, when you look toward it a moment too long. Almost silver. Despite the appearance of fragility, he had a strong face, made of decisive features. Full lips, square jaw, thick brows. Similar to his hair, his eyes were silvery. Sharp and detailed, like the cut of a diamond. He wore tired-looking jeans and a white t-shirt with a stain on the collar.
I waited for Collith make an introduction to the bright-haired faerie, but he just stared back at me, a slight furrow between his brows. “Are you going somewhere?” I asked finally.
He hesitated. The torchlight made his scar an ominous slash. “I have obligations that are unavoidable. I’ll be back by this evening. I won’t bother telling you to stay put, but I would strongly advise it. Faeries are ruled by their baser instincts. Should you encounter one in the passageways, I can’t promise—”
“I came here for Damon,” I cut in, feeling the stranger’s eyes on me. “Hiding would accomplish nothing. And don’t forget, we had a deal.”
Frustration flitted across Collith’s lovely face. “I haven’t forgotten anything. There’s a gathering tomorrow; doubtless your brother will attend.”
“If I wait until then, that forces Damon to spend another night here. I don’t know what’s being done to him or what kind of condition he’s in. Why did you bring me here today if you didn’t intend to reunite us right away? And do you even have a plan?”
In the stillness, my voice felt harsh and biting. Collith faltered again, and this was unlike the faerie I’d known so far. It was more than the fact we currently had an audience; he was different here. There was something I didn’t know, something I was missing.
Yet again, it was as though Collith could hear my thoughts. “There’s still much you don’t know, Fortuna,” he said.
“And whose fault is that?”
But it seemed he was finished. Collith simply promised to return soon, bowed, and left. I clenched my fists, feeling furious and helpless. Once again, he’d managed to avoid most of my questions. It hadn’t escaped me that Collith apparently lived in the same place my brother had been held for two years. Anyone capable of standing by while that was happening wasn’t worth my trust. I was done listening to him.
All at once, I remembered that I wasn’t alone. I turned toward the faerie still in the room. Now that Collith was gone, he had straightened. He spoke before I could. “Welcome to the Court of Shadows, my lady,” he said, eyes twinkling. His countenance was utterly changed, as though his terror earlier was a cloak and now it had fallen away. “I would advise you sleep with one eye open.”
It seemed a strange thing to say upon first meeting someone. “Why did Collith act like you don’t exist?” I asked, swinging my backpack to the ground. I’d been so distracted by the faerie and my conversation with Collith that I hadn’t examined the room. I did so now.
“To them, we don’t,” I heard the faerie say. Like the rest of what I’d seen, everything was simple. A bed frame had been put together out of tree branches. In one corner, there was a bucket, which made me glad I’d used the bathroom at home and dread when I’d need to go next. More torches lit the space, along with a fireplace dug into the far wall. There were no rugs or paintings, no dressers or closets.
“Them?” I asked absently, testing the mattress. Hard and lumpy—they’d probably filled it with grass or straw. Just another reason to get the hell out of here tonight.
“The blue bloods.”
“Didn’t expect the fae to use such human phrases,” I muttered. It was so cold down here, I could see my breath with every exhale. I focused on the faerie again. It crossed my mind that he was here to watch me, and I wanted to be alone to check the mirror. Maybe this time, there’d be something in the background to reveal where Damon was. How to get rid of him, though?
“Where do you think the humans got them? Or most of their cultural influences?” the faerie asked with a grin, referring to my offhand comment. “You might be interested to know that we use the phrase very literally. Should you ever see Collith’s blood, it spills blue as a berry.”
That actually was interesting. I’d learned more about faeries in one day than I had in one lifetime. “Well, I don’t need anything right now,” I chirped. The smile I gave him felt tight and unnatural. “Thanks anyway. Enjoy an afternoon off or something.”
The faerie didn’t move. Something in his demeanor shifted. “You should know, my lady, that I am loyal to Collith.”
At this, I studied him. His expression was open and sincere. Was he trying to tell me that I could trust him because of his devotion to my mate? Or was it a warning? My instincts shrieked at me to shut down, distrust, deceive. I’d never really been proven wrong about a person, simply because I didn’t bother trusting anyone in the first place. Much less a faerie. But there was something about this one I was drawn to. The usual revulsion I felt around his kind was … absent. “What’s your name?” I asked. Faeries can’t lie, I reminded myself.
“I am Laurie,” he replied without an instant of hesitation. He swept into a bow far more dramatic than Collith’s had been. “And I can take you to your brother.”
Never had eight words made my heart pound so hard … but it seemed too easy. This faerie had literally just told me he was loyal to Collith, who had advised I stay in this room. Was it a test of some kind? A trap? More importantly, was I going to let fear of that turn down an offer to see the brother who had vanished two years ago? “Then let’s go. Now,” I added. A challenge.
Laurie’s smile returned. I almost smiled, too, and caught myself just in time. The faerie didn’t seem bothered by this; he took a step back and surveyed me from head to toe. “First, we should change your appearance. Word of your presence has already spread—however resistant we are to technology, one of the old kings had cameras installed in dozens of the passages— but it will increase your chances of survival as we’re roaming the passages.”
I had so many questions about this, but getting to Damon was more important. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just hurry, please.”
He nodded briskly. With graceful movements, Laurie grasped my shoulders and guided me to the bed. Then he went to a rope in the corner. Not even a second after he pulled it, there was a knock at the door. Since there was no latch, it opened slightly at the contact. Laurie poked his head out and murmured in the language Collith had spoken his vows in. Another second, and he was pulling back again. There were several wooden bowls clustered in his palm. In his other hand were brushes.
Laurie perched on the edge of the bed. “Close your eyes,” he instructed.
It was a kneejerk reaction to do the exact opposite. I caught myself, though, and forced them shut. I felt Laurie lean closer and his breath touched my cheek. It had a pleasant smell, one I couldn’t put a name to. Sunlight? Spring? There was a tickling sensation on my eyelids—the tip of the brush. As Laurie worked, he didn’t speak. Though a thousand questions were buzzing around inside me, it seemed like I shouldn’t move or say anything, either.
Then his warmth and slight weight on the bed were gone. I opened my eyes. Once again, Laurie went to the rope. Once again, someone tapped at the door. But when he reemerged this time, he held a gown. It was a bizarre and rough material. Curious, I peered closer. There were spiderwebs and sticks tangled within it, along with what appeared to be tiny bones. An incredulous laugh escaped me. “Uh, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not wearing that.”
Laurie raised his pale eyebrows. “Do you want to find your brother or not?”
The reckless part of me—the part that felt like a wild animal, cornered and surrounded by enemies—wanted to defy him. Leap up and battle my way through the passages. Find Damon with nothing but my own power and determination. I pictured every moment, knowing even as I did so that it was a childish fantasy.
The faerie still waited for my response. I studied his patient expression and the angelic way firelight quivered over his skin. Was he toying with me? Was this a game to him? If that was the case, I was losing. Laurie knew what I wanted, while all I knew about him was a name. But without this faerie’s help, finding Damon would be far more complicated. The thought made me scowl. “Turn around,” I said, snatching the dress. Laurie spun in a fluid motion.
Knowing he could hear every sound in the too-quiet room, I yanked off my coat, t-shirt, and jeans. Cold air rushed over me. I hurried to pull the cumbersome dress over my head. It settled into place with a few wriggles and tugs. The waist was tight, almost like a corset, and the skirt was fuller than I expected. The sleeves were like a second skin and ended at my wrists, while the front exposed so much that no one would need to use their imagination. “Okay, done,” I said, pretending that my cheeks weren’t on fire. “But if you’re lying to me about Damon, I’ll make you wish you were never born. Or however faeries come into the world.”
Laurie turned again, and his silver eyes took me in. I forced myself not to fidget or look away; it was one of Mom’s fiercest beliefs that women should never allow themselves to experience shame or self-deprecation. “You are a queen, Fortuna Sworn,” Laurie murmured. He held out a pair of slippers.
My stomach fluttered. “Thank you,” I managed, taking them. I wanted to see what he’d done with the makeup, but there was no glass or reflective surfaces. My thoughts returned to the mirror in my bag. All at once, I remembered the confrontation in the forest, the sound of something breaking. Suddenly it didn’t matter that Laurie was watching—I rushed to the backpack and fumbled with the zipper. “No, no, no.”
It was the mirror I’d heard. A crack traveled down the middle of it, and there was no sign of Damon. Whatever power or spell it had possessed was gone. I sank onto the bed, willing an image to appear, but the glass remained still. What if these faeries were lying to me? How would I find Damon without the mirror?
Laurie’s voice drifted through the fog around me. “You don’t need it anymore. I’ll take you to him.”
I lifted my head, seized by an abrupt and overwhelming desperation. “Let’s go, then. Please.”
“Don’t you want to see my handiwork first?” Before I could form a response, Laurie held up the broken mirror. Just as snakes are immune to their own venom, so are Nightmares to their own abilities. When I looked at the face in the glass, she was not overwhelmingly beautiful or a combination of what I considered to be ideal features. She had my mother’s chestnut hair and brown eyes. There was even the same beauty mark below her right eye. The dramatic eyebrows, however, were all my father’s. The girl’s skin was pale, like someone who was still recovering from an illness. Somehow, though, she still looked strong. Laurie’s makeup was strange and jarring—glittering swoops of orange, red, and black—and highlighted my cheekbones and dark eyes.
I didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Laurie’s attention wandered upward. “We should do something about your hair,” he said. He handed the mirror back to me, and with those deft fingers, he began plucking and arranging. I sat down again to give him better access. I remembered the slippers as I did so. Laurie continued his task while I kicked off my boots and tucked my feet into the delicate fae-made shoes. Perfect fit.
“Do you know anything about Collith’s ‘obligations’?” I asked without preamble. “Does he have an overbearing mother?”
Laurie’s reply was distracted. I could feel him braiding. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take some pins from his pocket. “Collith doesn’t have any family at Court; he wasn’t raised among us. Normally, he would be considered a lesser faerie. Somewhere on the level of a guard or just another member of court.”
“But he’s not?”
At this, his eyes met mine. They were so bright, it seemed impossible that he wasn’t wearing colored contacts. “No. Because no other faerie matches his power,” he answered.
There was a warning in his voice. In my mind’s eye, I saw that blast of heavenly fire pouring from Collith’s hands. “Because he has more of it, or because it’s different?” I asked now, my own voice faint.
“Both.”
I took a moment to absorb the revelation. From the very start, my instincts had been telling me there was more to this marriage; Collith’s reasons were careful and vague. And however sincere his vows had sounded, the truth was that I had no idea what he’d promised me. If things took a turn, I had to know what I was up against. I focused on Laurie again, whose attention didn’t waver from what his fingers were doing. “What makes his power so special?”
“That I cannot tell you.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Because Collith wouldn’t appreciate his darkest secrets being revealed. Not for free, at least.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. Nothing said in the Court of Shadows goes unheard, my lady. Shall we go?” he added. He moved back a few steps, every movement fluid. Like a dance. I considered pressing the issue, but something told me Laurie would evade and dodge any efforts.
Well, if we were going out there, I wanted to be prepared. My pile of clothing was still in the corner, looking dull and forlorn. The backpack rested beside it. If we were trying to avoid attention, it would have to stay here. I went to retrieve Dad’s knife, hefted the dress up, and wrapped the sheath belt around my thigh twice. Laurie stood very still, his expression openly admiring, which I ignored. With a little adjusting, the skirt settled back into place. I took a breath and faced Laurie again. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He nodded, flashing another grin, as if this was all a play and we were about to go onstage. “After you, my lady.”
I pushed the door, and it opened with a long whine. The passage was even colder than before. It was so quiet, so still. The torches seemed to line the walls for miles. Where was everyone? Laurie slipped past me to lead the way, causing my skirt to rustle. Where Collith was a rush of frigid air, he was a subtle warm breeze. I caught myself staring at the back of his head, the line of his slender shoulders, his tight backside. The fae were directly descended from fallen angels, while the rest of us were several generations further removed, so it stood to reason that they should be beautiful. But I’d grown accustomed to the men of Granby, to Oliver, and I couldn’t deny something awakening inside me.
Thankfully, a few seconds later, the dress took up the whole of my concentration; it felt like I was going to trip with each step. Though I wanted to pay attention to the passages—I didn’t trust Collith or Laurie to show the way out—it was too much. The thought of seeing Damon, the damn dress, my anxiety surrounding Collith. I trailed after Laurie, distracted and agitated. We turned left, then right, then left. The Unseelie Court was a maze and I felt like a tiny mouse.
You’re not helpless, I reminded myself. Power tingled under my skin like stoked coals. Collith might be impenetrable, but not all faeries were as strong as him. If one of them got in our way, they’d regret it. Just like the goblins had.
Suddenly Laurie’s arm flew out to stop me. “That’s the one,” he whispered, inclining his head. I followed his gaze to yet another door. Like the others, there was a design carved into the old wood. A great tree, with numerous branches reaching upward and outward, like a many-armed goddess. Damon was in there, I could feel it. My stomach quaked.
“What do we—” I started.
The door opened. Laurie yanked me back, out of sight, and pressed a finger to his lips. Slowly, we both peered around the corner again. It felt like my heart was exploding. A tall faerie emerged.
In that moment, I knew I was probably looking at the creature responsible for Damon’s disappearance.
He had waist-length hair the color of copper. Were he human, I would put his age in mid to late twenties. His clothing was elegant and old-fashioned, with tight pants, a billowing white shirt, and a long coat. Porcelain skin was visible through the open collar. Shining, black boots covered his feet. In one hand, he held the end of a strange-looking cane, and his fingernails were long.
“Until this evening,” we heard him say. The sensual suggestion in those words was unmistakable. His voice was crisp and detached. I tried to launch myself at him, but at some point, Laurie had wrapped his arms around my shoulders. His grip was like steel. I opened my mouth to shout, but his arm clapped over it. The sleeve of his shirt was between our skin, so I couldn’t use my powers on him.
Oblivious to the silent struggle a few feet away, the faerie left. His departure revealed a shorter figure in the doorway, and I went still at the sight of him. A strangled sound left me, something halfway between a gasp and a sigh. Slowly, Laurie released his hold. I didn’t even notice.
For the first time in over two years, I was looking at my brother. He still hadn’t seen us. His gaze lingered on the dim passageway, watching the faerie go with obvious fear. The last time I saw him, Damon was nineteen. Now, at twenty-one, he was the spitting image of our father—there was even the overly large ears. All that was missing were the glasses. His sandy hair was too long, his Adam’s apple pronounced. Were he a healthy weight, I surmised he’d be as gangly as Dad, too.
“Not yet,” Laurie hissed. But it had already been two years, and I couldn’t wait one second longer. I stepped into the open, hardly daring to breathe. Startled, Damon’s gaze snapped to me.
There was an instant of silence. Damon and I stared at each other, our identical brown eyes unblinking. My heart pounded so hard, it felt like it was about to burst from my chest. I searched Damon’s for disbelief or joy. I expected him to shout my name and rush to me with open arms.
Instead, my brother began to scream.