A Thief of Nightshade (33 page)

suppose you wouldn’t. The potion she got from Lady Crimson will take care of that.”

“Oh,” he said thoughtfully.

“How soon after the masquerade will the coronation be?” Aubrey asked.

Ian looked tense. He’d looked tense since they’d left Agincourt. “Isn’t that a question you should have thought to ask his Majesty before leaving on this venture?”

Aislinn laughed. “In other words, he doesn’t have a clue.”

Ian glanced back and glared at Aislinn. “You’re right, I don’t know. What I can tell you is that this is foolish. What if you’re caught? Aubrey, I assume you have the Oran?”

“Oberon gave it to me this morning before we left.”

Ian fiddled with the leather of his vest quietly before responding. “If Saralia gets her hands on the Oran, everything you hope to accomplish by journeying to the Winter Court will be for naught. I think I should hold onto it for safekeeping. I’ll never be far from your side.”

Aubrey didn’t like that idea at all, but he had a point. What if the potion didn’t last as long as they’d hoped and she was still in the Winter Court when it wore off?

She looked to Aislinn. “You could keep it.”

Aislinn shook his head and to Aubrey’s surprise, agreed with Ian.

“Actually, I think he’s right. I won’t be there with you. Ian will be. He should hold onto the Oran.”

Even Ian seemed taken aback by Aislinn’s sudden congeniality.

Aubrey

fingered

the

necklace

thoughtfully before reaching reluctantly for the clasp. If Oberon and Aislinn trusted him, she supposed she ought to as well.

“Please be careful with it. It’s all I have left of him.” She handed it to Ian.

He dropped it into a pouch at his belt. “It’ll be safe. Trust me.”

Aubrey swallowed hard and forced herself to smile back at the Fae.

“Once Jullian is crowned,” Aislinn began, “the former King will die. Then, little by little, Jullian’s life will drain away and fuel the Queen’s immortality.

You remember what the Madame said about waking him up ... we either have to find a way to snap Jullian out of his trance, or ... sway the Lyr from doing Saralia’s bidding. Maybe when he sees you, touches you, it’ll be enough to wake him.”

The reality of Jullian not recognizing Aubrey hadn’t sunken in until that moment.

She knew that he didn’t know who he was, but to word it in such a way and to think about it in such an intimate context was almost too much to bear.

Oberon wasn’t in the habit of traveling without his Griffin attendants, nor was he accustomed to the kind of travel magic afforded him, but this was different. This required his vulnerability, whether he liked it or not. And so, the moment Aubrey, Ian and Aislinn had departed for the Winter Court, Oberon had left on a brief journey of his own, the second in as many days. This time, he journeyed to the court of Man in the city of Rheavon.

There, he would meet with King Alexander and Tabor, who had been summoned to join them. Oberon felt it, the upcoming shift in their alliances, and whether they knew it or not, Man was about to find himself at yet another crossroads. Oberon prayed they would make the right choice this time and help him make amends for the sins he had committed in the past.

The Winter Court in the Valley of Neath, with its glasslike spires and iridescent framework, was beautiful beyond words.

Ian seemed untouched by its splendor and as soon as they’d stopped, he got right to the business of telling Aislinn where to go to await their return, but Aubrey couldn’t stop staring.

“You get used to it,” Ian said.

Aislinn pulled Aubrey into a literal bear hug and whispered into her ear, “I won’t be far behind you, no matter what that airbag says. Be safe. I’ll be watching.” Then, wordlessly, he left them alone.

“Used to ... all of this? How? It’s...”

Ian looked off, something unreadable in his expression. “It’s not what it appears.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot these days.” She took out the potion and after taking a deep breath, she drank what remained in the bottle. Seconds later, she was enveloped in warmth and light. When the light faded, she looked down to see that she was clothed in a gorgeous purple ball gown, complete with feathered headdress and purple gloves. When she reached to feel her face, she realized that she wore a partial mask.

“You have wings,” Ian breathed.

“Sidhe wings.”

“I’ll blend in, won’t I?”

Ian didn’t say anything at first, his eyes roaming over her shoulders, where she assumed he could see her newly acquired appendages. “Yes. They’ll wonder why I’m with you, but yes.”

“Why would they wonder ... is it because you look different? I think it’s a gift.”

Ian didn’t seem to have any idea what she was talking about.

“You can shape-shift, while the others can’t. Are they jealous?”

Ian laughed at this, and Aubrey got the feeling that perhaps it was the other way around. The Fae confirmed it with his next sentence. “No, the Sidhe look down on us because we aren’t as ... beautiful as they are.”

“In my world, beings with wings like yours are adored. They’re called angels and some humans believe they each have what they call a guardian angel who stands watch over them throughout their life ... an unseen protector.”

“If they knew of the Sidhe, they would have chosen them instead.”

“Faeries are depicted in our world, but they’re considered nothing more than children’s imaginings ... make-believe.

Despite the fact that neither angels nor faeries truly exist in my world, a handful of adults believe in faeries. But countless others believe in angels. You can’t go anywhere, practically, where there isn’t a painting or sculpture of an angel. In the faith I grew up in, we said prayers to some of the angels. They had rank, like you, and led armies, like you.”

She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to tell him all of this, but it tumbled out and as she saw the expression lighten on his face, she was grateful that she had.

“Children’s tales?” he asked.

“Yes.

Archangel

Michael

and

Archangel Gabriel are leaders of God’s divine forces, while the most famous faerie is merely a child’s plaything that only grants wishes and makes people fly with faerie dust. Michael and Gabriel were sainted by the church. My brother...”

She was about to say that her brother wore a necklace with Saint Michael on it, but drew a blank on everything else about him, including his name.

“What’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The lessening again. I can’t remember my brother’s name. I know I have a brother, but ... that’s all I know.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he said suddenly. “We don’t have to go to the masquerade like this. We can wait until after it’s over and sneak in.”

“It’s too late to turn back now. The only way to reach him is for me to try and wake him up. I have to trust that he’ll remember me somehow. The masquerade is an excuse for me to steal him away for a few moments. I won’t have long ... I know that. It’s okay, Ian. I know the risks. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

If she didn’t know better, Aubrey would have sworn she saw guilt in Ian’s eyes.

“Took you long enough. Lipsey, go on ahead of us and keep an eye on Aubrey.”

Aislinn stepped out from behind a tree and scared Given. She frowned.

“How did you know I’d follow you?”

“You don’t strike me as the sit-on-your-hands kind of girl. Besides, that armor you wore in Koldavere wasn’t borrowed. It fit you too well.”

Her face flushed at this and Aislinn grinned.

“Well, come on. We’ve got work to do.” Given reached into the pouch at her side and pulled out the vial Ian had given her earlier. “Here, drink this.”

“How are we going to get in there?

Shades aren’t allowed. Neither of us has wings. Can you work a glamour?”

She bit her lower lip. “Maybe. I can try to, anyway. I can’t say how long it’ll last, though. I definitely couldn’t have worked one on Aubrey. Is there any magic in you at all? I heard you say that Jullian could do spells, but you can’t? Did I understand that right?”

“I tried and stuff happened ... just never what I’d intended to happen.”

“Okay, well, that’ll have to be magic enough for me to work with.”

He drank the potion and found himself gripping the tree for support as the world around him spun once again. “I hate this part.”

“You’ll stick out like a sore thumb in those clothes. I’ll have to work something up to deal with that as well.” She started several spells, but by the second line of each one, she’d stop and start over with something else. Finally, after the fifth one, she followed it all of the way through and by the time she’d finished, they both appeared as Fae.

“They aren’t real,” Given said.

Aislinn didn’t realize he was gritting his teeth until she said something. “I know that,” he snapped. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You really should think about dealing with those anger issues of yours.”

“I don’t have anger issues!”

Given smirked. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you ... you were yelling too loudly.”

Aislinn cursed beneath his breath, then spun on his heels. “Come on, we’re wasting time. And I don’t have issues.”

Given rushed to catch up to him.

“You look nice.”

He hadn’t heard a compliment in so long ... nearly a decade; to hear one now seemed surreal. “Thanks, so do you.

Minus the wings.”

“Fair enough. Here, hang your coat over your arm like this.” She pulled his coat off his shoulders and slung it over his metallic arm. “Sorry I couldn’t cover it with the glamour.”

He shrugged. “I’m getting kind of used to it, actually. It’s turned up fairly useful.” Flexing his fingers, he thought about his earlier conversation with Oberon. “Fairly useful indeed.”

AUBREY FELT LIKE HER HEART HAD

BROKEN
apart and shattered into a thousand pieces, all of them cutting her in ways she wouldn’t have dreamed.

Jullian.

He leaned against a pillar with unforced mirth in his expression. His easy laugh told her that he was truly enjoying this night. He held a fluted glass in his hands and sipped from it dark amber liquid that glistened like it had been spiked with glitter. He wore white, just as she’d seen in her visions, his sleeves ruffled at the ends; his shirt complimented by an embroidered cream vest that was edged in golden thread. A hoodless cloak hung at his back, its edges billowing as the night air filtered into the masquerade. A white fox fur lay draped across his broad shoulders.