by M. A. Grant
Afterward, he drags himself from the bed only long enough to clean us both up before returning and crawling under the covers. He hugs me to him and entangles his legs with mine, burying his face into the crook of my neck and mumbling about my needing to stay. He swears he won’t fall asleep because he has to talk to me about something important, but soon he goes lax and crushes me as he slips deeper and deeper into sleep.
I need to leave. Every minute I lie here, the more I’m tempted to stay. To let the sídhe be sealed and never go home and take my chances against the Seelie Court out here with Finn. Except, that would make him an even bigger target. It means that whenever this damn war ends, my mother would hunt us both.
I contemplate waking him to ask if he would come with me. But if he did, the sealing would prevent him from returning. Once Mother has negotiated with the sídhe, it will cut off all entrances and exits until the spell is lifted. Even I have no way of beating such a defense. I’m not sure how long Mother’s closing us in for, and can’t guarantee how the world outside will change while we wait. The passage of time means he could lose his family. He could lose his home once more, and it would again be my fault. I don’t know if he could forgive me the second time. I know I wouldn’t forgive myself.
So I lie here and smile like a fucking moron while I listen to him breathe. I need to go. My brain nags me about the Court and the sealing and duty and honor and Mother’s order to return immediately. My heart weighs down my body until the thought of moving even an inch abandons me. I refuse to lose another second with Finn. We’ve already lost so many, and when I return home, I’ll lose them again.
When the mantle’s magick strips me to a skeleton of what I once was, tonight will be the memory I cling to. The last image to vanish before my eyes will be of the agonized ecstasy of Finn’s face as he came.
When dawn is a short time away, I disentangle myself from him and dress in the silent dark. I glance back once more when I reach the door. The first time I laid eyes on him, I cursed the Goddess for punishing me with such a divine torture. Tonight, I thank her for it.
Finn is my beginning and, as I always knew, he will be my end.
Phineas
I know this nightmare. I’ve been here before. The pain isn’t real.
The blade slips deeper, rasps as it grinds against my rib.
Back bowing at the sound, and the tremor reverberates through my chest. Every nerve electric.
Mab shields herself, the ley line’s rush meeting her winter magick. She smiles while I blaze.
“Beautiful,” she whispers and reaches out. Her finger slides into the wound and runs over the bone.
Please, let me die, I beg the ley line.
This is almost the end of the dream. I’ll wake up and see Roark beside me. But something’s changed. The world feels different. Hazy around the edges.
The sharp bite of ice against my chest jerks me back.
Around me, nothing but the dripping walls of the torture room.
Wait, this isn’t what happens. This is when I wake up.
“Well, human,” a man says from the shadows, “I suppose it’s time to end this.”
Even partially obscured by shadows, I can still make out most of him. He’s taller than me, with black hair and sharp, dark eyes and something about him is vaguely familiar. Cool air wafts off him like wind off a mountain. When the goose bumps rise, my skin pulls tight and I gasp from the agony of that shift when the wounds on my chest gap wider. Warm blood trickles down my body.
“Thank God,” I whisper.
He chuckles. “Flippant to the last. I didn’t say we were done yet.”
He moves to a small table and dips a cup in the bowl waiting there. I tense when he comes toward me.
Liquid pours over my chest, scented with herbs and something else.
The ley line explodes out of me, forcing him to block the worst of the blast. Unlike Mab, he grimaces against the onslaught.
Another cupful of liquid. Another spasm. I slump, chains at my wrists holding me up. I’m boneless, watching watery blood trickle past my feet and swirl down the drain.
A door opens. Footsteps. I try to lift my head, but it’s too heavy. My body won’t obey me.
“We’re ready, Your Royal Highness.” The voice is rough, unfamiliar. A guard, maybe?
“Excellent—”
Then cold. Such cold—
Panic in my torturer’s voice. “Brother, what are you doing here?”
“Who are you and Mother working on? You never dirty your hands like this, Sláine.” I know this voice.
My eyes open and hold a shocked gaze. Eyes pale as sea foam. Roark. Of course he’s here. He’s always here.
His fingers skim my cheek. “Fuck. Finn—”
He’s ripped away from me. Yelling. Fighting. Darkness...
“Finn, wake up.”
My body screams when my arm drops, freed from the manacle. He rests my weight against him, reaching for the second restraint.
“What the fuck happened?” he asks.
I speak, voice little more than a whisper. “Kidnapped.”
“I see that, idiot.”
“Lyne...”
His breath warm against my cheek as he tries to walk with my weight.
“Lyne...”
“What?”
“Under the tree... Tell my parents... Bury me under the oak tree...”
“You’re not going to die.”
His hand tightens around my waist and I groan when warmth seeps from one of the wounds he accidentally pushes open.
“Keep talking,” he urges as we move down quiet halls flickering with some kind of candlelight.
“Hate your mom.”
“Understandable.”
“Said she could make it stop. Protect my family.”
He stiffens against me and the sudden cold makes my bones ache. “At what cost?”
“Knighthood.”
His voice is flat. “That will never happen.”
“If I take the oath now, will it stop hurting?”
He looks at me and there’s so much pain in his eyes that I wonder how he can bear it.
“This is all my fault,” he murmurs. “I’ll fix this. It’s too late for me, but you will be free.”
He halts unexpectedly and the world shivers into blackness...
Somewhere new now. Warmer here. Smells of home. Hard floor under me.
“Finn—”
Too tired to lift my head.
“I’m sorry about this.”
I brace myself. But it’s no rapier to the heart. No hex. Instead, words. Pretty words, ancient words that flow like a river, washing over me and burying themselves into my skin like armor just below the surface.
Shadows and waking and lies and promises and love. So much love in his voice that tears spill from my eyes and drip down my temples.
I don’t have to understand what he’s saying. The intent is clear. He’s going to take this all from me. The oath Mab offered. The pain. Him. He’s giving me freedom by taking it from me. It should be my choice.
Cool lips against mine and an order: Forget.
Something inside me slams shut and I welcome the darkness.
* * *
When I wake from the memory, I can’t move my body. It’s still trapped in that moment, bound flat to the floor while Roark’s words do their magick. Sweat soaks my sheets and every beat of my heart threatens to make my veins burst from the pressure.
My brain tries to remake my reality as the weight of what I now know settles itself deeper. I remember it all. The terrifying promise of the Winter Knight’s oath lies at the back of my tongue. I understand why Roark took the words from me. He was desperate. He thought that if he stole them, I would be safe from his political bullshit, that I wouldn’t be able to accidentally bind myself to the Unseelie Court. He wanted to give me the freedom he can never have.
But there’s no point in having that freedom if I can’t have him.
I roll to my side, reaching f
or his body. I need to kiss him and curse him and have him finally give me answers to so many questions—
There’s no one there. Nothing but an empty expanse of sheets. His clothes are gone. My door is closed. He left without saying goodbye.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble, clawing my way out of bed. I don’t care how much of a head start he has, there’s no way in hell he’s leaving without me.
I drag on a shirt, some shorts, and my shoes, grab my phone so I can text Herman later, and take a quick look out my window. The horizon has that awkward pre-dawn flush, but it’s still dark. A lone figure walks away from the building, shoulders hunched, hands stuffed in his pockets.
I pull open the window and bellow, “Roark!”
He’s too far away to hear me. Swearing, I shut my window and make my decision. Run toward hope. Even if hope is a fae asshole who really needs to learn how to communicate better.
I take the stairs two at a time and bolt outside. He’s already gone from sight.
I sprint down the path in the same direction he’d been heading. The campus is deathly silent, as if it’s holding itself in check until the sealing is over. Once that happens, nothing will be the same. The world is already changing. There’s no point denying that anymore, or fighting against it. Even with Roark’s interference, I still found myself aligned to the Unseelie Court, to Sebastian and Gumba and the other fae who rule the darkest legends. Powerful and feared until they’re useful, the Unseelie always felt more real and familiar to me than anyone else, any other pantheon of magickal beings here at Mathers.
I continue down the path, leaving campus proper behind me. To my left, the swath of trees that surround the eastern edge of our school starts to thicken. Soon I’ll be nearing the edge along the park and street that leads to Domovoi’s. Still no sight of Roark yet.
What if I don’t find him in time? What if I already missed him?
My lungs burn. The stitch in my side throbs with every pounding step down the sidewalk. A pain worse than my body’s complaints goads me, threatening to tear me apart.
Around the final sweeping turn, the path opens up into the cross street. The trail continues across the way as little more than a dirt jogging path that our track teams use for practices. Suddenly my plan of running after Roark without knowing where I’m going seems a little foolish.
But then, a hint of movement through the trees far ahead of me.
There.
Roark stands by an innocuous tree on the edge of the path. That must be where he’ll pass back into the sídhe. Roark turns and glances at the horizon. It’s nearly dawn now. His back’s to me, but I know that square set of his shoulders, his straightened spine.
He’s leaving me.
“You asshole!” I bellow. It comes out as more of a gasp since I’m sucking for air. Sprinting. I doubt Mom meant literally running, but here I am.
He doesn’t turn. More likely, he just doesn’t hear me.
A car comes down the street, but I don’t slow my pace. Either the car will pass before I hit the street, or I’ll slide over its hood and continue on my way so I can catch Roark before he steps through that damn hidden doorway.
“Roark!” I throw what little air is left in my lungs into the call, willing him to look up. To look back at me.
He jerks. Turns. So fucking stubborn. Unable or unwilling to show me his true face. I know it now.
I point as I bear down on him. “I remember! I remember everything, you son of a bitch!”
He pales. His eyes widen. Those perfect, sneering lips part and—
His mouth twists when the car pulls to a stop in front of him. I don’t know why it’s stopped. Why men are clambering from it. Why they’re wearing ski masks.
The world slows to the rush of blood in my head, my ragged breathing. Too, too silent.
Roark faces the first man who approaches.
I know what happens next. He’ll twist his hand and ice will trap the man. The second guy hurrying in will adjust, but Roark will turn, catch him in mid-step. Probably freeze him and then gut him with the rapier he conjures from thin air. The car will squeal away as the driver flees a losing battle.
Except, when Roark reaches out his hand, the ice doesn’t come. And the first man is wearing leather gloves. He whips an aged chain forward, wrapping it around Roark’s bare neck.
Roark yells and I scream with him, but it’s too late.
The second man swings a heavy, ancient club at the back of his head. The yell cuts off and Roark drops.
The men ignore me. They load Roark into the car.
I reach into the earth and search for the ley line. I need it now, to keep my leg muscles from tearing as I force myself to run faster.
Why isn’t it there?
Cold and fear sap my strength, weaken my knees.
The car drives away. I chase it, yelling uselessly for someone, anyone, to help me. Help him.
God, I’m losing him.
I claw for the ley line, beg for it to help. There’s a sluggish stirring in the depths of the earth.
The car speeds up as it heads down the road. It turns and vanishes from sight.
Roark’s gone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Phineas
I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing about a mile back. My body is on autopilot, focused solely on following the car. The town is small enough all roads lead to Main Street and the T-intersection beyond, which will force me to pick a final direction to turn.
Somewhere near Main Street, my legs give out. My undignified sprawl to the sidewalk earns me a strange look from the girl opening the coffee shop to my right. She doesn’t stop to ask me what’s going on, though, even when I can’t find the strength to stand and keep moving. Instead, gravity devotes itself to weighing me down completely, until I lie spread-eagle on the concrete. Cold seeps up through my sweat-drenched clothes, creating steam clouds that roll off my skin.
As the death rattle in my chest eases, I hear my cell phone going off with Herman’s ringtone. Digging it from my pocket is like lifting a brick of lead. I don’t bother to hold it to my ear. I turn it to speaker and drop it on my chest instead.
“They took him,” I say, staring at the grey sky overhead.
“What?” Herman asks. “Who is they? And him? What are you talking about, Finny?”
“Roark left. I found him. Was too far away. Men in a car took him. Couldn’t keep up.”
Noise from the other end of the line.
“Finny,” Sue says, voice steady, “where are you?”
“Main Street. Coffee shop.”
Again, noise. Murmured questions of which shop. I’d say, but I can’t turn my head to look. Herman’s back. “We’re coming to get you. Are you okay?”
“Tired. Ran.”
“You chased after the car?” It’s one of those questions that’s more a statement of resignation than actual curiosity.
“Tried to. Hurry.”
“We’ll be there. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
I choke out a horrible chuckle. As if I could move...
A few beeps mean they hung up on me. Good. Based on my body’s protests, I’m going to need to save all my strength for when they get here.
Roark’s gone. In my panic, I didn’t even pay attention to the car’s license plate. Or what the men looked like. Or anything useful. Years’ worth of crime TV shows did nothing to prepare me for that moment.
I have to find him but I don’t know where to start. I’m sure if I asked Mab, she’d send fae to help me. It doesn’t matter how terrifying she is, Roark is her son, her favorite son, and at least we’d be united on the fact that we need to find him. But I don’t know how to get ahold of her. Roark always scries, but he never taught me how.
The only other way I can think of to get her attention is that damn oath. If I said it, would I have a direct line to her? Would I be able to use her power to find him?
I start to say the words, but the image of Roark’s face when he was ca
rrying me out of the sídhe stops me cold. He hadn’t been angry when I asked him about my taking the oath. He looked like I was asking him to kill me. I can’t do that to him now. Not until I know exactly what taking it entails.
So I wait. And while I wait, I keep myself open in case the ley line decides to come out to play. I pushed it down too far, and if I’d had it, I could have saved him.
I’m crying silently when Sue and Herman find me. I hear the awkward chug of Herman’s car before the opening and closing of the doors. Sue kneels beside me on the sidewalk. I can barely see her through the tears that keep leaking from my eyes.
“Come on,” she says, helping me up.
She pours me into the backseat before she rejoins Herman up front. He keeps looking back at me in the rearview mirror. On the drive to campus, they coax the story out. By the time I’m finished telling them, even before they start asking questions and planning our next steps, I know what I need to do.
“I have to get my power back,” I announce.
I don’t miss the look they share as Herman puts the car in park near our apartment building.
“Finny,” Sue says gently, “that may not go very well.”
Herman’s far blunter. “No one has ever turned their magick off and tried to turn it back on. It’s not like a computer.”
“I know,” I say. “But I could have stopped them. He would be safe. And I need to get him back.”
“Let us try to get some help,” Sue urges. “The sídhe may be sealed, but Dean Tanaka probably has a way to contact the queen. We can at least try.”
Sue’s not on my side. Fine.
Herman turns back in his seat and watches me. I hold his stare, daring him to try to stop me. He rubs at his eyes and finally says, “Promise me you won’t blow up the apartment.”
“No promises.”
He grimaces, but nods and opens his door. “I figured as much.”
Sue opens her mouth to protest, but he shakes his head and she doesn’t say anything. They plan who to call to report Roark’s kidnapping as we head upstairs. I ignore them and go to my room, shutting the door behind me.
His scent lingers in this space. That’s good. It gives me focus.
