Shadow (Touched by the Fae Book 2)

by Jessica Lynch

  All six guards make a move toward me.

  “You want it? Fine.” I throw it far away from me, even further than my necklace. “There. It’s yours.”

  As soon as it hits the floor, it sticks. That’s… that’s different. It doesn’t crumple in a ball or slip away. Nope. It’s like it soaks into the fancy tile that make up the floor in the queen’s throne room.

  It’s the only spot of black in the whole room. It streaks across the floor, moving to the corner where two walls meet, growing larger and larger as it approaches. By the time it reaches the corner, the shadow darkens and stretches and twists until it’s a patch of darkness about three feet high.

  A figure comes striding in from the distance. Seconds later, he’s stepping out of the portal, as beautiful and as untouchable as ever.

  “Nine,” I gasp.

  I don’t know whether to be happy or afraid that he’s here. Happy because, if there’s one soul in either realm that I can count on, it’s Nine. And absolutely freaking terrified because I’m in Faerie, this is the queen, and now I’ve dragged my Shadow Man into this mess.

  Don’t know how, but there’s no denying it.

  “Ninetroir.” The queen is visibly annoyed. “I should’ve remembered your parlor trick. You did so love to throw shadows around.”

  She’s annoyed.

  I’m shocked.

  The queen knows his name, too. He told me once how he guarded it ruthlessly his whole life, that only a few had it, whether they earned it through a contract or a bargain or because it bettered him in some way.

  He said I was the only one he gave it to without expecting anything in return. Well, the touch that saved my life from the charmed peach, but he would’ve eventually given it to me once I broke free of Rys’s brand.

  But Melisandre knows his true name. She knows Nine.

  With a small smile, she turns to look at me. She doesn’t have to keep her eyes on Nine. The second he popped into the room, every single Seelie fae turned their weapon in his direction.

  The queen rises from her throne, stepping lightly down the stairs that lead from the throne’s platform. She moves toward where I’m frozen in place, addressing only me, like we’re sharing girl-talk or some crap like that.

  “One of my favored guards,” she confides. “I hand-picked him right out of the Unseelie Court myself, brought him to my academy. I had such hopes for him before he gave up his post. He was too young, I supposed. I never thought he’d betray me for a human.”

  What?

  Nine was one of the Fae Queens guards?

  What?

  “It was such a surprise when he entered in the bargain that trapped him as your guardian. Especially since he’s always hated humans. Isn’t that right, Ninetroir?”

  The words seem like they’re pulled from him. Moving quickly, moving quietly, he steps between me and the queen. “Not Riley.”

  “Riley,” she scoffs. She meets my gaze over Nine’s shoulder and all I can see is how furious she is—and how she’s going to keep pretending she’s not. I guess the time for pretending that we’re not prophesied to be enemies is gone now. “A human name, too. If she’s so proud of her fae side, she should at least use her true name.”

  Does she think she’s being tricky? Maybe. Or maybe she just doesn’t care about being subtle ‘cause, well, she’s not. Of course she wants my true name. She could command me to do anything, even command me to slit my own damn throat, if she had that name.

  It takes everything I have not to flicker my gaze over in Rys’s direction. He has it. He’s used it countless times before. Wearing the mark from the shovel on his face, he could offer it to his queen and get revenge for the way I lashed out against him. And that’s if he hasn’t already—he’s proven that he’s not shy in calling me Zella when it suits him.

  I brace myself, waiting for it.

  Rys stays silent. I’m not sure why—I can’t chance looking at him in case Melisandre picks up on it—and I’m irrationally grateful that the Light Fae who’s made my life hell for so long is actually doing something to protect me for real.

  I can’t worry about that right now, though. Not when I have another fae standing in front of me, separating me from the Fae Queen, essentially doing the same exact thing.

  “I won’t let you face her yet. She’s not ready.”

  “And you think you can stop me?”

  Nine juts his chin out in an act of defiance. “If I have to.”

  I hope he’s got a sword under his coat because, even now that there’s the two of us, without a weapon, we’re still super outnumbered.

  To my surprise, Melisandre doesn’t seem offended by his answer. “I was told your debt to the human mother was fulfilled. You don’t have to protect her.”

  “I don’t have to do anything,” Nine counters. “I choose to.”

  “The Dark Fae,” murmurs the queen. “I wondered which of my people would turn against me. You were always too close to the prophecy, Ninetroir. I should’ve known it would be you. That changes things.”

  It does? How?

  And why does the way she say that have me just about to piss myself?

  With one searching look past Nine, Melisandre actually moves away from us. That’s a total surprise. I was expecting her to lash out at Nine, to command one of her guards to remove the new threat in the room.

  She doesn’t.

  Instead, gliding to the side of the room where Nine’s portal lingers, Melisandre moves like she could care less that me and Nine are still there. She keeps her back to us—which she can do without worry because of, you know, the six guards watching it—as she approaches a structure tucked near the furthest wall.

  I don’t know how I didn’t notice it until now. Probably because the cloth covering it is white, just like the walls, and I’ve been a little preoccupied with the queen threatening to have her guard chop off my head.

  Melisandre waves her hand. The cover slips away.

  She turns, her stare immediately looking for me just as I realize what it is that she revealed to the rest of us.

  It’s two statues, just like the Jason one I found in her gardens.

  One’s fae. A male fae, definitely Seelie due to his coloring. He’s a paler version of Rys, like he’s been hidden in the darkness after a lifetime of living out in the sun. His eyes are closed, though I’m willing to bet they’d be the same golden shade, and his lips are pressed together.

  He appears resigned, but at peace.

  The other statue is his total opposite.

  First off, it’s a woman, and she seems to be cowering.

  The poor chick looks to be a couple of years older than me. Twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. She’s a little shorter than I am, just as petite, with a sheet of white-blonde hair that falls past her shoulders. She’s pretty—or she would be if she wasn’t wearing a frightened expression, her mouth contorted in a silent scream, her big blue eyes wide and afraid.

  She’s not fae. The blue eyes are one clue, the perfect imperfections of her pretty face another. Laugh lines. Even as terrified as she was before she was frozen this way, I can make out laugh lines.

  Humans have laugh lines. They have wrinkles and birthmarks and blemishes. Unlike a fae’s airbrushed smooth features and eerily beautiful faces, a human’s shows each year lived.

  I feel a kinship to this poor woman. Almost like I should know her.

  I don’t, though. And when Melisandre asks in a mocking tone if I do—if I know either of them—I just shake my head.

  She lets out a laugh. It’s sweet and it’s lovely, and it sends chills skittering down my spine.

  And then she asks joyfully, “Truly? You don’t recognize your parents?”

  My… my parents?

  I thought I was frozen in place before. Now? It’s like my sneakers have been rooted to the floor. I can’t talk, can’t breathe, can’t even freaking blink. I’m staring at the two of them in disbelief.

  My parents?

  20<
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  Over my shock of discovering that the two statues in front of me are my freaking parents, Melisandre continues talking.

  Man, she must love the sound of her damn voice. Even if her explanation is actually helpful, I wish she’d just shut up already.

  “In Faerie,” purrs the queen, “my people can’t use their charms on each other. It’s why humans have their use. I couldn’t compel Aislinn to do my bidding, and his human pet’s ability to negate glamour meant she was useless to me. Still, they make lovely statues. I do so love to decorate my garden.”

  I shake my head roughly, forcing myself out of my shock-fueled gaze. My fingers clench so tightly, my leather gloves groan.

  Her eyes brighten. “Ah. That’s right. You’ve been to my gardens before this afternoon. Did you enjoy your first welcome?”

  Don’t let her see how she affects you, Riley. Don’t let her have an inch or she’ll take a mile.

  I gulp. “Can’t say that I did.”

  “Oh. I thought you’d be pleased to see… now, what was that pet’s name? Hmm. I should remember. He was so helpful, keeping me informed on the goings of the Shadow for so long until I grew bored of him.”

  “His name was Jason,” I grit out.

  “Ah. So it was. After a while, they all seem the same to me. Not these two, though. Aislinn and his human were different. Special. They created the Shadow.” She waves her hand in my direction again. “They created you. And, instead of giving up their child, they sacrificed their lives to save yours. Now, it’s your turn.”

  “My queen?” It’s Rys speaking up. I’d know that voice anywhere. “I thought you were going to spare the Shadow.”

  Spare the Shadow? Yes, please.

  Melisandre turns her head just enough so that while I’m still in her sight, she can make it clear that she’s addressing Rys when she says, “Hold your tongue, or risk it. You’ve been warned.”

  Rys clamps his mouth shut. His golden gaze flashes murderously. Wisely, though, he shuts up.

  Who was that look for? Me or the queen?

  I’m not so sure. And, heeding his queen’s warning, he stays quiet.

  She nods royally, ending the motion with an almost unnoticeable shake that makes her blonde curls whisper enticingly over her slender shoulders.

  “Pardon the interruption. Where were we? Ah, yes, the Shadow Prophecy… what a moldy, old thing. Why, who’s to say that what’s been handed down over the eons is the same as what was foretold? I had a pet once, I forget them now, who explained to me about this human game. Meanings can get twisted, the more folks who know a secret. And the Shadow Prophecy has always been.... mmm, shadowed in secrets.”

  No kidding. The piece of paper Carolina gave me with the prophecy scrawled on it was my be-all and end-all when it came to understanding all of this. Now that I know Carolina was serving the queen, can I even believe it?

  Probably not.

  “Still, in every version, it seems as if you’ve been fated to end my reign. Unfortunately, I’m quite fond of my position. I worked very hard to call the throne and the realm my own. I’m not about to allow some halfling to swan in and ruin it for me.”

  I really, really don’t like the way she threatens to cut out tongues when someone speaks and she doesn’t want them to. Like Rys, it’s kept me quiet for a minute, but I have to defend myself.

  “I’m not trying to do that,” I argue. “I keep telling you people, I don’t want anything to do with the fae. I just want to be left alone.”

  Her strange eyes glimmer. They’re still not the same color they were out in the sunlight. The more I watch, the more it seems like they’re closer to Nine’s silver than Rys’s gold.

  “Yes, well, that’s why I’d like to propose a trade. You for them,” she says, waving in the direction of the fae and the woman frozen beside her. “Stay with me in Faerie, stay where I can keep my eye on you, and I’ll set them free. No harm, no foul. I’ll remove the spell and their imprisonment, let them go on their merry way. In my castle, you’ll find it impossible to plot to steal my head. I won’t have to destroy the halfling destined to end my reign, but I’ll also have control of her. A perfect trade, in my opinion.”

  My heart just about stops at the same time as Melisandre does.

  When I first saw the statues—when she first told me who those two people were—I was so stunned, I could barely understand the magnitude of her reveal. For twenty human years, my parents have been trapped in Faerie all because they wanted to save me.

  It never occurred to me that I might be able to save them.

  “You can… you can do that?”

  “Certainly. And I’ll do it if you agree to take their place.”

  “Two for one… that trade would be entirely in Riley’s favor. That’s not like you, Melisandre. Where is the sacrifice?” asks Nine. He shifts his weight, covering me as the Fae Queen glides back, coming to stand in front of us again instead of my freaking parents. “You said sacrifice. What are your intentions?”

  “It’s simple. I can’t honestly be expected to leave the Shadow free. She’s just beginning to come into her powers. None of us know what she’ll eventually become. So, in exchange for Aislinn and his human, she’ll stay in Faerie with me—just as they are.”

  A statue.

  The Fae Queen wants me to willingly trade my freedom for that of my parents. It’s not certain death, but I wouldn’t be alive.

  I also wouldn’t have to worry about the queen coming after me, or her sending soldiers after me. A statue in her gardens… it’s not the outcome I was hoping for, but I’m so freaking tired, it almost has a certain appeal.

  When I don’t immediately say no, Nine turns just enough so that he can look at my face. I don’t know what it is that he sees in my expression—he sure doesn’t like it, though.

  “Riley, no. You can’t do this.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Ninetroir. I think the Shadow has no choice but to take my trade.”

  Melisandre lifts her hand high. Another gesture. Another signal. Four of the six guards—two Dark Fae, two Light Fae, neither Rys—come forward, surrounding me and Nine at the corners.

  “Show my guests to their quarters.” Her pale pink lips curve, a dangerous smile tugging them upward. “I will see you again at the next moonrise. I trust you’ll have time to think over my offer. I’ll expect your answer then.”

  Quarters?

  Try a cell.

  After escorting us from the Fae Queen’s throne room, the guards lead us through countless other rooms before marching me and Nine down one last narrow hall, glittering swords pointed at us from every angle.

  We finally stop in front of a room with bars. Not six bars, like my window back at Black Pine, but at least fifty. They’re not a dark metal, either—these bars are made of thick glass, but with a skinny bar of something that doesn’t quite belong shoved in the middle.

  It’s iron. I don’t know how I can be so sure, but I am. It’s probably enough iron to weaken a fae—especially since it’s probably some of the only iron in all of Faerie—and that, coupled with the bars and the empty room, make it clear to me what it’s for.

  Faerie jail. You’ve got to be kidding.

  As we approach, the door swings outward.

  “Inside,” orders one of the Dark Fae guards.

  Because I don’t see what else we can do, both Nine and I step in. The door slams with an echo behind us.

  As soon as we’re alone in the cell, Nine whirls on me. He’s so tall, so terrible, so utterly awe-inspiring, I tilt my head back as he looms in front of me. Though I’m close to shaking in my sneakers, I refuse to quail. I don’t back down.

  I’ve been expecting this.

  The whole march through the palace, I could tell that Nine was just waiting for us to be alone so that he could tear into me. It’s obvious that he’s against me agreeing to the queen’s terms, and he begins his argument by saying just that.

  “I can’t let you do this. Aislinn
sacrificed himself so that you would survive. Your mother risked making a bargain with me—me, Riley—so that you’d be protected from the Fae Queen while you came of age. They would never want you to give up your life for them.”

  “I wouldn’t know that,” I retort. “I don’t know anything about them at all because, for the last twenty years, they’ve been trapped in Faerie because of me.”

  “Not because of you. Understand me when I tell you this. They’ve been trapped in Faerie because of Melisandre. Not you.”

  Even though I’m looking up at Nine, all I see is the frightened look on my mom’s face, the resigned air that surrounded my father. I let out a soft sigh. “I wish I could believe that.”

  “You can. Because I’m telling you it’s so.”

  And he can’t lie.

  That’s another way this Nine is so… so different than the Shadow Man I once knew. Back then, he spoke in riddles, using words that could mean anything and everything. Not Nine. Not now. As if he’s trying to prove that I never have to wonder if he’s manipulating me, he’s begun to speak in absolutes.

  Not perhaps. Not maybe. Not it could be so.

  Too bad it’s too late to change anything.

  “It was easier when I thought they were dead,” I confess, turning away from Nine. The weight of expectation in his gaze is too heavy. He’s a Dark Fae—he doesn’t understand how I feel. But he’s also Nine, and I need him to. “It took so long for me to get past being abandoned as a baby. Honestly, I’m not sure I really did, but it became easier when I accepted they were gone. I mourned them, and I got over it. Fine. But they’re alive, Nine. They’re still around, just turned into statues. They don’t deserve that.”

  “You don’t deserve that, either.”

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  I’m no saint. I’m not perfect. I’ve done some shitty things in my life, and I’ve had some fucking terrible things happen to me. People have been hurt because of me. They’ve died.

  I couldn’t save Madelaine.

  I couldn’t save Carolina.

  I thought my mom was out of reach… but she’s here. She’s with my dad, a man who was nothing but a mystery—and I can save them.