A Thief of Nightshade (35 page)

“I’m glad one of us is in good spirits.” Her breath hitched as he shifted to prop his feet back against the opposite wall.

“Do you really think I’d let you drown?” he asked, amused.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

He grinned. “I won’t let you go, I promise.” When she didn’t immediately retort, he added. “What? You don’t think my word is worth much, do you?”

“Oh no, I think your word is just fine.

In fact, I believe if anything has withstood the trial you’ve endured these last ten years, it’s your pride.”

He lifted his brows. “And what could you possibly know of my life before this, trial? You’re what ... twenty?”

“Twenty-two and I know a lot more than you suspect.”

“Oh? Like what?”

She hesitated. “I know you have two children. Ben is thirteen this year, Hannah eleven. Hannah has your eyes, as it turns out.”

“You’ve seen them?” Just hearing their names again made Aislinn feel hollow inside.

“Your sister Rebecca is raising them, which is why I didn’t know who Merrial was when you spoke of her. They never say her name.”

He’d assumed Rebecca was dead.

“When did you—”

“I went to them to see how much they knew and wound up staying with them for two days before I found you and Aubrey at the Crimson Stair. I suspected Tabor would send you to see the madame.”

“They didn’t say her name, but did they say anything of their mother? Where she is?”

Given nodded once. “She died years ago. Most of your family was told that you were dead—executed by the Sidhe. I told them the truth.”

“I tried to find them while we were in Rheavon. The lights were off so I assumed they were asleep. I never would have imagined they weren’t there. Are they happy?”

“Yes, but you’re missed. Ben has most of your things, but he’s allowed Hannah possession of a raggedy stuffed rabbit. She carts it with her everywhere. It looks ancient. I made the assumption that it was a childhood toy of yours?”

Aislinn couldn’t contain how grateful he was that Rebecca had the children or the tears in his eyes as a result of his relief. Rebecca was younger than him by a few years, but precious and was likely a wonderful mother. He considered wiping his face but with wet hands, it was a bit for naught. “I remember that rabbit; Jullian and I both had one. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She leaned toward him with a smirk on her face. “Um, it could have something to do with you hating my guts and wishing nothing for me but a slow and painful death. Maybe ... I’m just guessing here.

You know, you’ve really been a jerk.”

“Yes, I know. I’m hotheaded, incredibly selfish at times, completely inconsiderate. I’ve never met a meal that I couldn’t get along with. I’m arrogant, a damn good archer and coincidently, I’ve never wished you a slow or painful death.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, quick and merciless. Same result.”

“If you really thought that, then why did you kiss me?” He tipped her chin up with his knuckles and was pleased to see her fight a smile. “Hmm?”

“It shut you up, didn’t it?”

“Oh, is that why?” Since Given was securely on his lap, Aislinn let go, leaned back and locked his hands casually behind his head. “And here I thought it was because you found me irresistible.”

“How could any woman have possibly been persuaded to marry you?

You’re such an ass.”

“A royal ass,” he offered.

“Hardly an excuse.”

He shrugged. “And that was hardly an answer to my question, your highness.”

Given squirmed where she sat, refused to either answer him or meet his gaze, but considering how limited her options were she was stuck with him for now.

“Ian seemed quite taken with you. All right, a lot taken with you,” Aislinn said.

“Was his affection unrequited?”

“Shouldn’t we be talking about finding a way out of here?”

“So you do love him?” Aislinn surprised himself with the amount of disappointment he heard in his tone.

“He was a dear friend, nothing more.

He’d gotten my Uncle’s permission to marry me, which he incorrectly assumed would be the only thing that mattered. He was more than a little surprised when I refused him.”

“Ian was a coward.”

This got her attention. “What do you mean, a coward? Were you not standing beside me when he charged—”

Aislinn reached for her the moment he dropped his legs again, smiling when she reacted just as he’d anticipated.

“Damn it, Aislinn!” She waited until his arms were firmly around her waist before she reared back to wail on his chest with both fists.

He couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Then, just as quickly as the thought to force her closer had occurred to him, he dropped his arms from her waist, knowing she would grab his neck, and framed her face with the palms of his hands. “He was a coward because what he did was foolish and stupid. How could he think getting himself killed would help either of you?”

Tears welled in her eyes again and she tried to look down but he wouldn’t let her. “I’m sorry you lost a friend tonight.

But he and I were about to have some serious issues.”

She furrowed her brow and after a moment of silence she asked, “Dare I ask why?”

“Well, I don’t think he liked me very well and I can guarantee you that he would have liked me even less after he found out what was in your future.”

“My future?” Given laughed as hard as

she

could,

considering

the

circumstances. So hard, in fact, that it took her a second to calm down. “That’s absurd. I hardly think you’re in any position to know anything about my fut—”

Aislinn,

having

noted

the

convenience of the moment, leaned in and kissed her. He expected her to put up at least a moment’s struggle, but to his pleasant surprise she didn’t and he finally understood that feeling Jullian had so often referred to in regards to how his heart would know it when he found the one. This tore at him even worse, both his grief for his brother and the enormity of how hard he’d fallen for Given in such a short amount of time; no wonder Jullian and Aubrey hadn’t courted long. If this sappy emotional bit lasted much longer, it would kill him.

She refused to look at him when they finally pulled away.

He kissed her on the cheek, lingered, then whispered in her ear, “Told you so.

You’re in love with me!”

This got her riled up again. She pushed back, not too far as to let go, and frowned. “I am not in love with you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, if you say so.”

“I’m in a dark ... watery grave ...

scared half out of my mind ... and...”

“Easy for you to say.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Shut up and let’s find a way out of here. Please? We can discuss your arrogance at length once we find Aubrey and save Jullian.”

He tried to contain his smile, he really did. “Well, I’m assuming we can’t just yell for help.” When she didn’t respond he continued, “Lipsey will find Aubrey. In the meantime, we’re only looking at two options; wait for Oberon and pray someone finds us down here or...” He let his gaze wander to the water.

“This is a true well. There is nothing but dirt down there.”

“You don’t know that for sure. There might—”

“Yes, Aislinn. I do know that for sure.”

“How could ... you’ve been here before?” The idea made his guts clench.

She didn’t say anything at first; then she carefully reached out to touch a single stone that jutted from the wall. It was barely the size of Aislinn’s fist. “I held on for as long as I could. When I came to, it was to the sear of a brand on my wrist.”

They almost let her drown. He wished desperately that he could take back his teasing earlier. Before he could say anything, the torches high above them that had provided such scarce light before were blown out, blanketing them in darkness. Given immediately tensed and started to shake again.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her closer.

THE PAIN HAD LESSENED, BUT AUBREY

DIDN’T
know how long the respite would last. She tried to breathe slowly and evenly, but struggled. The walls and bars and floor were all made of ice, but weren’t as unbearably cold or damp as she’d expected. It was more like frosted panes of glass in the depth of December.

Its bizarre beauty reminded her of something ... but she could only see fragments of a memory: Glints of gold against the dark grain of cherry wood. The sound of a bell on the wind.

She could still feel the heat from Jullian’s hands as he’d held her at the masquerade, the contour of his muscles, the strength in his arms–arms that had pushed her into the Sidhe’s claws. She lowered her head.

“I’ll give you this much; you’re more stubborn than I’d imagined.”

She looked up to see Saralia standing on the other side of the bars. Aubrey hadn’t really had a chance to take a good look at the Queen before. Her face was slim, as was her figure; her skin true porcelain in color. Her lips were the pale cherry of a doll, painted the perfect size and given all the grace of an inanimate object.

“Why are you here?” Aubrey’s voice sounded weak even to her own ears. “You have what you want.”

“It really isn’t your place to tell me where I should or shouldn’t be in my own court, now is it? I want to see what all the fuss is about. I want to see the creature who my brother is willing to give up his immortality for. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

Aubrey swallowed the urge to turn her back on the Queen. “I have no say in what’s fair and what’s not in your court, now do I?”

Saralia’s mouth turned in a smile, but her eyes narrowed. “Oh, we’re brave now, are we? It’s no wonder you caught the eye of a Prince,” she cooed. “Though, there wasn’t much to choose from in your world from what I saw. Do you want to know what I learned while I was there ...

while I walked through your soul?”

Aubrey smiled back with equal insincerity. “Enlighten me.”

“You aren’t a very brave woman, more of a craven child, really. You can’t deal with life or your emotions, not after your father told you to stop crying while he abused you. Yet, you couldn’t seem to help yourself when things didn’t go quite as you’d planned at the masquerade.”

Something died in Aubrey’s soul as Saralia said those words, something that had kept her holding onto the notion that love always wins in the end. Perhaps it was the finality in the Queen’s tone, or the not–so-gentle reminder that her Prince was here and yet there would be no salvation for her, that this wasn’t one of those stories. She wasn’t even certain what she’d expected the Queen to say, but it hadn’t been that. Then, just as quickly as that something had died, something new flared to life ... something dangerous.

Something she’d never allowed herself to feel before–anger.

“Aubrielle Wright, did you sincerely believe it would be that simple? Did you really think that you could just waltz into this world and that your determination would be enough for you to take whatever you please? As I said before, there isn’t anything extraordinary about you.”

“It’s Sellars.” Aubrey leaned in and glared defiantly at the Queen. “Let’s talk about the extraordinary. How does it feel to know you’ve lost the only thing that made your life worth living?”

“You don’t—”

“I don’t know anything about your life? Is that what you were about to say?”

Aubrey painfully found her legs. “But I do.

I know because I’ve seen traces of who you must have once been in Given and Oberon ... in your own flesh and blood.

You traded everything for power only to find out too late that a life without love isn’t worth having.”

Saralia tilted her head and took a step closer. “Well then, I suppose that makes giving yours up a little easier. I wonder, is this making you feel better? If it is, then by all means, assert away. Tell me how shallow and trite and meaningless everything associated with me is. I sincerely hope that by seeing me as the embodiment of all evil, you will find peace when you take your last breath.

Judging by how sickly you look, that moment isn’t too far away now. I doubt you’ll live long enough to see the sun rise tomorrow, to see my new King willingly accept his crown.”

Aubrey surprised herself with a laugh. “That’s not at all what I said. If you were purely evil, then you wouldn’t have a choice in your actions—wouldn’t know any better. You know what you’re doing is wrong and yet you haven’t the will to do otherwise.”

Though Aubrey’s memories had faded, though her days and years had dwindled, she could still recall her father and the abuse she’d endured–the acts that had made her a prisoner ever since. And just like the wounds from the Time Wraith had worn away her memories, that abuse had eaten into her life ... had stolen away the moments that she’d deserved to enjoy.

My father knew the difference between right and wrong, and he chose to do the things he did to me. It was never my fault.