23

Telepathic Jewelry

Gwen

When I woke, Aris was still curled around me, one arm thrown over my stomach and wrapped beneath my ribs. His breath warmed the back of my neck and stirred the hairs there, making goosebumps run down my arms. My first instinct was to snuggle backward and press my bottom against his hips, but we lay naked on the moss floor of the cell and the door could open at any moment.

It was difficult not to think, not to remember how easy it was to lose myself in his arms, and harder not to want more of him, even with the threat of discovery. Aris had given me the relief I had so desperately needed to exorcise the storm raging inside of me. Now the sky was calm, and while my soul still hurt in ways I did not have the words to express, even to myself, the bone-deep urge to run or fight had dwindled.

But the desire to find more satisfaction had not.

That was an urge I had probably better control. As much as I felt like I knew him from years of his company, even if in another form, his geis made it clear there was much more I did not know. And this was one of those peculiar situations in which ignorance was not bliss. Ignorance might, in fact, be deadly in the long run.

I rolled out of his grasp and slid the fae gown back on, making the mistake of glancing down at him over my shoulder as I tied the girdle.

He lay propped on one elbow, dark hair mussed, gazing at me with a pleasure I had never seen in the eyes of any man, not even Tony; as if merely watching me made him happy. Which made the idea of joining him on the moss ridiculously tempting, never mind his muscled torso and other, more distracting bits of flesh.

He smiled a slow, sensual smile that turned my brain to mush, so I turned resolutely away to fasten the damn belt before my body got the better of my common sense.

“You are a cruel woman, Gwenevere St. James,” he said, but his voice sounded relaxed and pleased.

“Glamour some suitable clothing onto your naked hide, you bloody Corinthian.”

“Only if you retrieve the plate of food left for us by the door.”

A plate of food covered by a napkin sat lopsided on the moss. When had it been delivered?

When I turned, he was suitably clothed again in black trousers and a black shirtwaist open at the neck, sleeves rolled up over the taut muscles of his forearms. Bloody damned hell in a handbasket. This had to stop. Every little glance and detail should not have the power to turn me into a lusty glutton. It hadn’t been so long since I was intimate with a man…well, I suppose it had.

Tony and I had never formalized our relationship, but it still felt wrong to bring someone else to my bed while the possibility existed. And that was what? Two years? No wonder my mind kept replaying the feel of Aris’s hands on my body. A shudder made me clench my jaw and search for a distraction.

Food. Food was good. As soon as I settled on the idea of eating, my stomach drove everything else from my mind. Before I sank my teeth into a roll, I raised my brows and made a little questioning noise.

“It is safe,” Aris said, popping a grape into his mouth. “They will not try to feed you fae food now that the trial is underway. They won’t want to contaminate the outcome.”

“Can faerie food really bind you to the Sunset Lands?”

“Not in the way the stories tell it, no. It is simply ridiculously tasty and makes enjoying mortal fare nearly impossible. Imagine giving up your bread and eating a bit of this moss, instead.”

I plucked a bundle of moss and twirled it thoughtfully. “It might be edible with a bit of marmalade.”

“You cannot eat marmalade on everything.”

“Would you care to make a wager on that?”

“I would not. You’d pretend to like it merely to spite me.”

“That is a baseless accusation and entirely true. How do they get mortal food if they do not grow it?”

He waved his fingers. “Magic.”

I swallowed a mouthful of very fine cheese. “Can you tell me anything about the next part of the trials?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot. They are exceedingly rare, from what I understand. Then again, I am not so old as some in the court, so rare is a matter of perspective.”

“How old are you, if it is not a taboo question?”

“It is, but I have lived long enough among humans that I do not feel the sting of it. Reckoning time between the Sunset and mortal lands is tricky because there are no concrete rules on how time passes, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would say somewhere around forty or fifty years in human terms.”

“Still a young man, then,” I said, but I wasn’t really thinking about his age. My mind was already on the next logical question. “How much time has passed in the mortal world since we have been here?”

Aris sighed and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “There is no way to know. An hour. A week. The magic separating our worlds doesn’t behave according to logic. But our perception of the passage of time is equally dubious. Time feels slower here.”

A little arrow of pain pinned my fluttering heart to the inside of my ribcage. I had been born exactly ten minutes before Lia, and somehow she had always behaved as if she were the older sister. Now she may be years older or younger. Yet one more small, intimate detail of our connected lives this place stole from us.

“What did the king mean the other day about my blood breeding true? Does it have anything to do with my sister’s magic?”

Aris thought as he ran a grape over the backs of his knuckles. “Something like. They say some mortals exhibit supernatural abilities when they spend enough time in fae lands. This place was created by magic, after all, so perhaps it makes the manifestation of it easier.”

When I fought the vampire, he told me he smelled power in my blood, though I did not possess any magic. And he called me—my mind skittered away from the memory. I did not need to track down the truth of that claim right now, particularly when it would not help my current situation.

But I did need to know something else. “Might I manifest it?”

“If you have not seen it yet, then I doubt it. Though there may be other—“ His mouth snapped shut, teeth clacking together. He winced.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded and loosened his jaw, wincing, but did not finish his thought.

“May be other what?”

His lips thinned, but he did not answer.

“The geis?” I asked.

A sigh.

Right. So he could not speak directly of my sister, his geis, or any possibility that I might have…what? Some other ability in my blood. That painted a very interesting picture. Who would benefit from forcing Aris to keep this knowledge to himself?

To answer any of those questions, I would have to ask the one thing I had been avoiding thinking about for many months. “Aris. Can fae and humans truly have children?”

He choked on a bit of bread, then said, “What a question, Gwen. Thinking of starting a family, are you? I’m flattered, but I have never seen myself as a father.”

I scowled at him. “Can they?”

“Yes.”

“And those children may inherit the qualities of either parent.”

“If the stories are to be believed.”

“Ophelia’s magic is not human magic.” It was not a question, and he did not answer.

I plucked more moss and tore off small chunks to give my hands something non-violent to do. Firmly pushing the image of my unnaturally beautiful and persuasive mother out of my mind, I focused on finding answers that could help me now.

I’d have to phrase my next question carefully. “If a—“ My voice died, but I forced the word out with a ruthlessness borne of necessity, “if a changeling bore the gift of their fae parent, wouldn’t they know it?”

This must have been safer ground, because Aris said, “Mortal lands tend to…what is a suitable word? Dampen, I suppose, the gifts of non-faerie children. More than that, people tend to overlook what they take for granted, especially if their gift is not extraordinarily visible or distinguishing.”

“Can you tell if I have anything of the sort?”

He looked at me helplessly. Dammit. I reworded the question. “Are there any common non-magical gifts inherited by changelings?”

It was much easier to ask that question when I could pretend it did not affect me.

“I don’t know if the word common can be applied. There are not enough humans in the Sunset Lands to make a judgment. Perhaps asking Percy would yield more results, but”—he leaned forward and stared at me—“magic is not the only quality separating faeries and mortals. Faeries are stronger, faster, and have keener senses. It would be unsurprising if a changeling inherited such traits from their fae parent.”

My heart galloped and my head felt like it was about to detach and float up toward the ceiling like a balloon.

“A changeling might notice,” he continued, voice soft and slow, as if he knew the answer would hurt, “that they can hear things other mortals cannot. That they are stronger and faster than their peers. They may distinguish details other mortals miss or heal faster and sustain less damage. They may even age far more slowly.”

I wanted to say I didn’t do any of those things, but the words dried up before they reached my tongue. How many times had I heard Mr. Yates or Mrs. Chapman long before they entered the room despite the thick carpets? Several days ago, I bent the Cutthroat King’s crown with a negligent squeeze of one hand.

You may not have any magic, but your blood is full of power. Is that what keeps you from my thrall, delicious changeling child?

In an instant, I was back in the clearing, trapped by the grey-faced vampire as he whispered in my ear while my blood dripped from his chin. Darkness closed in at the edges of my vision.

“Breathe, Gwen.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. Apparently, one could only bear so much truth before one’s nervous system shut down to protect itself. Hundreds of questions bubbled to the surface of my mind, but the only ones that mattered were ones that brought me closer to escaping with Lia.

So I ruthlessly ignored everything else my heart was burning to know and asked, “Being faster or stronger than average humans will not be enough to gain me entry to the court, will it?”

He chewed thoughtfully, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. “The value of a gift is defined by what you do with it. So, if you fail? Likely not. Unless one of the lords or ladies takes a shine to you and makes a servant or plaything of you.”

I remembered the heartbreaking beauty of the fae, the control Aris had over me when he stopped masking his true nature, and shuddered. To be a willing, grateful slave?

“I think I would rather be dead.”

His mouth twisted, but he said, “Some humans find the experience…rather enjoyable, I’ve heard. While they live, anyway.”

“Because they are mindless slaves to the pleasure of it.”

“You certainly did not seem to mind the pleasure, if the noises you made were any indication.”

“That is beside the point.” I sniffed.

“I’d say it was right on point, twice at least.”

I threw the remaining bread at his head, but he batted it out of the air, laughing. It hit the pile of chains I’d thoughtlessly discarded the night before, which shifted with a musical tinkling. Something silver toward the bottom of the pile caught my eye, peeking between clumps of moss. I twisted to get a better look. Hadn’t all the links been gold?

“Who gave you the bruise on your ribs?” Aris asked.

Distracted, I glanced down at the spot Shiverback had squeezed and saw a purple bruise as large as my palm through the sheer fabric.

“Was it me?” His voice was sharp and hard, like a blade held against his own throat.

Had he not noticed it last night? Perhaps it was too early for the bruise to show or he had his mind on…other things.

“No,” I said. “No, it wasn’t you. It was Shiverback, who seemed to think I made a mistake in seducing you. He was a few hours too early on that guess.”

Aris didn’t smile. He did not even blink. He was as still as a spring loaded with force, or a cat about to pounce. “How did he do it?”

Seeing Aris so still with his eyes flat and his jaw clenched made it much easier to believe he was an assassin. “I am not certain I should answer.”

“If you don’t tell me, I will find out for myself.”

I needed to distract him, because the darkness in his voice was, quite frankly, rather frightening. So I stood and crossed to the pile of chains. “And what do you propose to do about it while trapped in here with me?”

“They will not keep me imprisoned forever.”

“So certain, are you?” I asked, bending to fish the silver from the moss.

“I am too valuable to kill. The King will want to use me eventually.”

Instead of focusing on the threat implicit in his statement, I lay the object on my palm. It was a silver ring, plain and perfect. Turning it over, I watched the soft glow of the mushrooms above travel across the smooth surface. Where had it come from?

“Did I not warn you about accepting gifts?”

I jumped, clutching the ring in a surprised fist, and glared at him. “Must you always be sneaking up on people? It wasn’t a gift. I just found it here.”

He took my hand, turned it over, kissed my wrist, and snatched the ring from me. “In the pile of metal Manannán gave you.”

“Yes.”

Aris returned his attention to the ring, leaving me free to wonder why Manannán would hide a ring in the chains he gave me when he could easily have used his influence to force me to accept it.

Aris tilted the ring to catch the light. “Words have been engraved on the inside.”

He read them in a musical language full of rolling R’s and sibilant sounds. His eyes widened. “How did she manage this so quickly?” Then he grabbed my hand and slid the ring onto my index finger.

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“Say your sister’s name. Her full name.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“The power of your name is partly in the giving of it. She has not given it to anyone, and I already know it, so you won’t be giving me any power over her.”

“How do you know?”

He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow.

“Right. The geis. What will happen if I say it?”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “What must I do to earn your trust? Shall I save your life a few more times? Will that do it?”

How much more must he do? Aristotle had been my friend for years, had made me laugh, comforted me, kept me company, and yes, saved my life many times. But Aris, The Raven of Obyrron’s court, who had lied to me for years? I wasn’t so certain.

The geis alone was reason enough to distrust him because I had no way of knowing what it forced him to do or keep from me. But I did not have any other allies, and I needed every scrap of information I could get.

“Alright.” I settled myself, took a deep breath, and said, “Ophelia Magnolia St. James.”

Thank the moon and stars! What took you so long? Never mind. Gigi, listen to me. If he is there with you, and if you trust him, take the Raven’s hand and hold it so his skin presses against the ring.

Lia’s voice in my head was as clear as if she stood in front of me, but it was so disorienting that I flinched in surprise and nearly fell over. Aris caught me by the arms to steady me, his eyes concerned.

Can you hear me? Lia? I thought at her.

For the love of—don’t yell! And we don’t have time for questions, just do as I say or tell me if you cannot.

Heart pounding, I looked at Aris and considered his dark eyes, eyes I knew so well…then grabbed his hand and threaded my fingers through his.

He’s here, I thought.

Raven, Lia said with absolute command in her voice, you must take my sister from this place immediately.

Aris rolled his eyes, and his mental voice was just as sarcastic as his expression. Oh, thank you for that insight, great and wise General. I should have thought of that before, but, well, there’s this cell, you see, and—

Unless you’d like several more lashes, shut your beak and listen: the next two trials are of strength and beauty, to begin tomorrow tonight. I convinced the King to give her a day of rest to prepare. When my sister passes, the King will hold a great feast to welcome her to the court. During the feast, you must create a distraction to cover your escape. Take her then and escort her through the rift. You have my permission to use any means necessary to complete both instructions.

You have much more freedom to create a distraction than I.

If you only knew, Lia thought, and what passed for her mental voice was thick with frustration. I have done what I can, but any additional help you can provide will make it easier to get her out.

After a moment of silence, Aris said, You realize what this means for me?

If you are not willing, now is the time to tell me.

His gaze slid to mine, eyes searching. Then his jaw clenched. I am willing.

Good. Gwen—

Willing to what? Wait, how are you doing this? Lia I—what if I don’t pass? I blurted the mental thought, feeling swept along in a current I could neither stop nor swim against.

You will pass, Lia said, as if the question was ridiculous. The important part is that you must listen to The Raven. He is the only one who can help you escape. Now, prepare for the trial in whatever way seems best to you and either hide or destroy this ring by any means necessary.

Then the sense of her presence faded.

Lia? Lia! Wait, come back!

“She’s gone, Gwen.”

“Ophelia Magnolia St. James,” I said.

Nothing.

“Ophelia Mag—“

Aris grabbed my face in both hands. “Gwen. She. Is. Gone.”

I stared down at the silver ring for so long that my vision blurred. When I could no longer see, I looked up and said, with swimming eyes, “She doesn’t hate me.”

An entire world fell off my shoulders. I was so light I might crumble to dust and float off on the breeze. Everything holding me together, the stubborn determination, pain, and hope, burned away, leaving me in disconnected pieces.

I shook so hard my bones ached.

Aris pulled me into his arms and cradled my head against his chest as I fought for self-control.

How could I make sense of all this? The deception, the cruelty, the politics? My mind was too scattered to bring the gears grinding into place. I wanted to fall apart and cry until I was nothing but an empty husk, until the strange mixture of joy, pain, and relief burned itself out.

But I did not have time to fall apart again, and it wouldn’t help me in this moment, in any case. For a while, I let the comfort of Aris’s body, the warmth of him and the sound of his heart beneath my ear, become the anchor tethering me to sanity.

Soon my breathing and heartbeat slowed to match his, and the shaking subsided. I mentally hauled myself back into order, stepped out of his embrace, dried my eyes with the heels of my hands, and pulled the ring off of my finger.

“What does the trial entail?” I asked as I crossed the room to the folded remains of my clothing and tucked the ring into one of the many secret pockets Percy had sewn into the coat. “Will they expect me to lift something heavy?”

“Strength of arms. As in combat.”

I faltered. Aris had proved to me, in a rather humiliating fashion, that my chances of fighting a faerie and winning were laughably slim, despite my newly recognized advantages. I would have had more luck with magic. But I swallowed my misgivings and asked, “How does it work?”

“The King chooses a champion to face the challenger in single combat. The challenger chooses the weapon, and the duel ends with submission or death.”

“That’s comforting. I don’t know what makes Lia think I can win, but it won’t hurt to show up in a bit of armor.”

I stripped out of the fae gown, tied up my hair, and began applying layer after layer of thick British winter wear, topped by the jacket Percy made for me. When I was done, I raised a brow at Aris and said, “Next time remind me to charge for the show, if you cannot keep your eyes to yourself.”

He grinned a slow, sinful grin, and my insides turned to jelly.

“Never,” he said. Then his expression slid back toward neutrality and he gestured to the pile of translucent fabric I’d left on the floor. “That’s a gamble, Gwen. It is likely the King will be insulted by your appearing before him improperly attired.”

“A bigger gamble is fighting a more skilled opponent with no protection.”

“Fair enough. Just be prepared if he orders the guards to strip you.”

“So long as there are weapons nearby, he can order the guards to try anything he likes.”

“Gwen—“

“Oh calm down, mother hen. And what will you be doing while I fight for my life?”

“Only the moon and stars know. The stars and your sister, anyway.”

“She seems to keep a lot of information to herself.”

“It is probably safest.”

“She said to prepare, but aside from this”—I looked down at the buttoned jacket—“what else can I do?”

He gave me another smile, but this time it was dangerous. A mischievous glint made his dark eyes sparkle and he glided toward me, hands up.

“Practice,” he said, and attacked me.

I collapsed sometime later, soaked with sweat and panting. The jacket saved me from broken ribs, but it was so hot from absorbing Aris’s blows that overheating was a distinct danger.

“How did you learn to fight like that?” I asked, struggling out of the soggy coat like a snake shedding its skin, and mopping my forehead with a sleeve.

For a moment, I thought Aris would not respond. His expression was empty when he said, “My father.”

While sparring, he’d had to slow down significantly not to take my head off, so learning more about his technique would have helped me prepare for my trial. But the tone of his voice warned me not to push for more details.

Besides, choosing unarmed combat would almost certainly be a mistake. An equally skilled opponent who was also faster and stronger would win. The rapier may be my only chance of success if winning against such creatures was possible.

Lia clearly thought it was, unless this was all some convoluted plot to continue scraping out my insides. I had to believe it was not. I had to believe I could win and somehow get the three of us out of there.

I dropped the jacket onto the moss to give the heat time to disperse so it would be ready for my duel, and asked, “What does it mean to become a member of the fae court in practical terms?”

“The same thing it means to become a member of any court: you are subject to their laws and expected to participate and obey.”

“Is it a bond that can be broken?”

“Not without becoming a traitor.”

In most cultures, the penalty for treachery was death. I stared down at my hands while running a series of calculations. I thought becoming a member of the court might give me time to find Lia and escape, but it appeared it would also keep me prisoner here. If I trusted Lia, and I did not appear to have much choice in the matter, then this was the only way out.

“Can we escape through the same hole in the wall you used when you came to mortal lands? Is that the rift Lia referred to?” I asked.

“If we can make it out of the castle and past the guards? Possibly. I made it through once, but I cannot be certain the magic would not kill me if I tried it a second time. It may not even be open.”

“How can we get out of the castle?”

“That will depend upon what your sister has planned, and what kind of distraction we can contrive.”

What your sister has planned. There wasn’t time to solve a mystery so opaque. But a distraction? I glanced at the mound of moss I’d carefully constructed to hide the gear I brought with me.

“I have an idea for that,” I said, and smiled.