by Shona Husk
Caspian took a step closer and smiled, but there was nothing remotely human about it. Lydia shuddered. She’d been to bed with him like this. Soulless and hard, and yet at the time he’d seemed more lost than anything.
“I didn’t break the deal. The only way I could be free of you was to find the Window. Which I have done. Annwyn took my soul for dealing with you, but you will not take what is left of my life.” He inclined his head at Lydia.
“So if you found it why haven’t you given it to your father and begged for your soul?”
“I was on my way; there is a doorway at the cemetery. But Lydia rang to tell me you were visiting and I couldn’t leave her here with you. I know how a Grey will do anything to get home.” The mirror slid a little further down his fingers and Shea drew in a sharp breath.
Shea seemed frozen, as if he didn’t know whether to rush for her or Caspian. His gaze darted between her and her lover. She couldn’t move and didn’t dare say anything in case she damaged whatever Caspian was trying to do.
“Let’s make this more fun. How about I call my father?” Before Shea could answer he drew a breath. “Let it be known I have found the Window. The deal is complete.”
Caspian didn’t raise his voice but his words echoed with power. She felt in her blood something ancient and powerful stirring—the same way she’d felt his invitation to bed last night. He really wasn’t anything close to human at the moment and yet she couldn’t take her eyes off him as the silver chain slid down his fingers. To his fingertips. She held her breath.
Then the mirror began to fall.
Shea leaped for the mirror, his belly hitting the floor, his hand outstretched as he muttered some kind of incantation.
“I never promised it would be whole,” Caspian said.
Chapter 22
Caspian jumped to the side as Shea landed on his stomach on the floor, stretched out his hand, and then vanished in a flash of light into the mirror just as Caspian had expected him to. It had been a gamble but the only one he’d been able to make and now the Counter-Window was in three pieces on the kitchen floor. For several heartbeats he waited for Shea to reappear through the Window that was somewhere in this house—hopefully. He didn’t want to have claimed to have completed the deal when in actual fact the Window was still lost and he’d broken the Counter-Window.
When there was no enraged snarl, no cursing, and no sign of the banished fairy lord, he let himself breathe for a moment even though he didn’t have long to find the Window before his father showed up and demanded he hand it over. Lying didn’t go down well at Court; lying by omission or letting people assume was another matter.
He walked over to Lydia. “Are you okay?”
She shrunk back against the door frame as if his touch was poison and her eyes were full of suspicion and fear. “What are you?”
He had to be honest. Shea had already spilled the truth and lying would only make it worse. “You know what I am. My father took my soul in exchange for the Window.”
Her lips moved but no sound came out. But she didn’t need to speak; he could see the distrust in her eyes. “You’re a Grey, like him.”
“It’s temporary, if I return the Window.” But it was also clear he couldn’t protect her from his family or fairies in general. Maybe a life in Annwyn was the only chance he had. While he missed the beauty, that was all he missed. Beneath the dancing and partying there was an edge. A razor constantly held to throats just waiting for an opportunity to slice. When he looked at Lydia, he didn’t want to live at Court. He wanted to be human and with her. She made him feel like he had a chance at living again.
“You should have told me last night.”
“Does it change me?” He already knew it did, but had she noticed?
She nodded and his worst fears were confirmed. He swallowed down the rising ache. What would he do if she never wanted to see him again? Would he have the strength to say no to his father when the Prince asked if he wanted to live in Annwyn?
“Is he gone?” She pointed to the broken mirror.
“I think so.” He picked the pieces up and placed them on the table. How did he ask for the other piece? Straight up. It was the only way. “While I was in Annwyn I saw you in this piece. I think you have the other half.” He turned to look at her. “I think it was here all along, but no one, not even the ghost, knew what it was.”
“The ghost followed me home after I’d packed up some of my grandmother’s personal things. I think I have it.”
“Do you have it here?”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Return it to my father and get my soul back, hopefully.”
She looked at him as if trying to work out if he was lying. “How do I know you aren’t trying to trick me? Isn’t that what Greys do?”
“A Grey will do anything to get back to Annwyn and stop the fading of looks and power. I didn’t fight Shea because if I did I would have weakened myself and I am already weaker than most Greys because I am half-human. I want my soul back. I want you. I love you.” He wanted to reach for her, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle her reaction if she pulled away again. While he could glamour her into helping, he didn’t want to do that either. He was trying his hardest to prove to her he was human, but it felt like everything he wanted was slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t stop it. He waited for the rejection. For the denial of affection.
She took a breath. “I love you too.” Then she walked through the kitchen to her handbag and pulled out an iron bolt and a silver compact. She placed them on the kitchen table next to the broken mirror. “When I realized this might be fairy I put it in my bag next to iron to try and keep it safe. I wanted to give it to you last night but you weren’t in any state to do anything.” Her cheeks colored as if remembering the rest of the details from last night.
When he got back it had felt like he hadn’t slept for three days, that and the loss of his soul and the lack of connection to Annwyn had taken a toll. But Lydia made him feel alive.
“It’s okay. I didn’t know how to ask if you had it. I suspected it must have been something of your grandmother’s.”
“It was a gift, but I think the man was just hiding it here.” She touched the silver case. “Will that Grey be in there, in the mirror?”
“I don’t know.” They both looked at the compact as if expecting Shea to burst out at any moment. Nothing happened. He needed to know if the compact was what he was searching for. “Can I?”
She nodded.
His fingers brushed the silver casing and he got nothing from it. The metal told him nothing of the mirror’s past. He bit back his frustration. How was he supposed to find the damn Window when he couldn’t see what an object was?
“Well?” Lydia raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t know.” The compact was a lump of dead metal in his hands. Then he remembered what Shea had said. A fairy couldn’t sense the Window. Because he was a soulless fairy at the moment it felt like a normal mirror. But the silver case was decorated in a vine-like pattern which was very Annwyn. He opened the catch. The mirror was broken into three, the same as the Counter-Window. Pressed against the silvered glass was Shea. Blue blood stained the cracks as if the mirror was weeping.
“Is that it?” Lydia stepped closer. “Is that… ?”
He let out a slow breath, then shut the compact. There would be no funeral games for Shea in Annwyn. But he’d also been saved the slow death of a Grey.
“It is the Window,” a voice said behind Caspian.
Caspian turned. His father stood in the kitchen. His elegant clothing too bold and bright for the mortal world. He’d heard the call for the end of the deal and crossed the veil to be here.
Felan looked at Caspian, then Lydia. “I’m sorry for this intrusion. I trust you haven’t been harmed?” Felan inclined his head and smiled.
Caspian waited for Lydia to glide toward his father and melt into his arms. But she didn’t move. She was immune to
Felan’s charm, that or he wasn’t turning it up to full volume.
“I’m fine…” Her gaze flicked over the Prince’s clothing. “Sir.”
The Prince turned his attention to Caspian. “Thank you.” He held out his hand.
Caspian handed over the compact. The Prince opened it, nodded, and closed it. Then he gathered up the broken pieces from the table.
“Well played, son, although I wished you hadn’t destroyed it.” Felan slipped the pieces into a pocket in his silvery blue coat. The collar was turned up, sharp points jutting under his jaw. With careful movements he pulled the ring off his finger. “This belongs to you.”
“That simple?”
“That simple.” He almost handed Caspian the ring. But closed his hand at the last moment. “I ask you again, do you wish to remain in the mortal world?”
That would be twice he’d been asked. The first time he’d known the answer. Caspian looked at Lydia. She loved him. He had a chance at the life he’d always wanted. The pause stretched out. Felan raised his eyebrows as if he’d won.
Caspian smiled. “I choose to remain.”
Felan gave a small nod, his lips curved up at the corners. “Very well. The next time I ask, you’ll be drawing your last breath.”
A shiver raced down Caspian’s spine. Would he be able to refuse when death was imminent?
The Prince handed over the silver ring with the green and red stone that held his soul and all of his humanity. As soon as it was in his hand there was a change. Nothing he could name directly, but from the ring he received an impression of love and pride. He smiled, his smile, without the fairy edge. “Thank you.”
Caspian put the ring on, not surprised that it fit perfectly.
“You don’t have to wear the ring.”
“I want to.” It would be a reminder of what he’d almost lost. The red line that had split the stone like a cat’s pupil was gone. But it would also remind him that his father had stayed away out of love, not because he was an unwanted changeling.
Felan nodded to Lydia, then to Caspian. “I shall leave you. I have other business to attend at Court.” A flicker of anxiety crossed his face but was quickly masked.
No doubt news of Shea’s death would rock the Court. Those who aligned with him and the Queen would rapidly shift their game. Whatever happened Felan was going to have to make some dangerous calls to save Annwyn. Caspian didn’t envy him at all. For all the privilege, wealth, and status, it wasn’t worth the cost.
“Good luck.” He went to shake his father’s hand, but Felan pulled him into an embrace. They might scheme and carry on as if life was one long party, but fairies did feel and weren’t as cold as he’d thought. He’d learned that in the short time he’d been truly fairy.
Felan drew away. “The family reunion is over. Next time I hope we meet under better circumstances.” Then he turned to leave.
“Wait, sir.” Lydia took a step after him. She should be letting him leave. This man, this fairy, was dangerous and powerful and Caspian’s father. Something she was still trying to grasp, but he was about to walk away with her grandmother’s compact, something her gran had treasured and kept safe for years.
The fairy turned to look at her. His expression was one of puzzlement, as if he didn’t expect to be questioned. There was a similarity between Caspian and the fairy. The eyes. They were the same ice green.
“I just want to know about the mirror and the man who gave it to Gran. I don’t want it back.” She rushed on. This was a bad idea; she shouldn’t have asked. She half-expected anger or some reaction like she had from the Grey, or the sense of menace from the Hunter.
Instead he nodded and drew the compact out of his coat and handed it to Caspian. “Answer her question. I’d like to know too.”
As soon as Caspian’s finger’s touched the mirror he smiled. “A fairy gave her the mirror, he loved being the center of attention at her parties, but he gave her the mirror to hide it as well as to thank her. They were more than friends.”
She’d been right. The singer had been Gran’s lover. Go Gran.
Felan pressed his lips together. “Which fairy?”
“He was a singer… wait,” Lydia darted out of the kitchen to the parlor and Gran’s collection of photos. She knew exactly which picture it was, the one that had made Caspian look twice, because he’d recognized the man as fairy. Looking at it now, he was more than pretty. There was something in his eyes and his cheekbones that gave him away. She picked it up and brought it back to the kitchen where Caspian and his father waited. “Is this him?”
The fairy peered at the photo. “Riobard, up to your old tricks. How did he get his hands on it?”
Caspian frowned, his focus on the mirror and the past no one else could see, then spoke. “He stole it from a female fairy some time ago. There was bitterness between them. Did he know what he was stealing?”
“Oh yes, and I have no doubt he’ll be showing his face at Court very soon.” Caspian’s father took the compact back. “We’re done.” He turned on his heel and left.
This time Lydia kept her mouth closed as the handsome man in the odd clothing walked out of her kitchen as if he owned the place and was giving them permission to get back to their lives.
She’d been speaking to Caspian’s fairy father, Gran had entertained a fairy. She’d seen a Grey get killed by jumping through a mirror. The adrenaline left her feeling sick and weak. She leaned against the kitchen counter for support. Could she deal with having fairies in her life? But when she looked at Caspian she knew she could. It wasn’t his fault he was related to a bunch of immortal, immoral beings.
“Your father’s not any just any fairy, is he?” Her voice was low in case somehow he was still around and listening.
“He’s the Prince.”
“Right.” Of course he was. “Were you ever going to tell me you were fairy Prince?”
“I’m not a prince. I’m just a changeling of no significance to Annwyn. My parentage has been kept secret because others might try to use me to get to him.”
After what she’d seen over the last few days of fairies she totally understood that. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He walked around the kitchen table and drew her into his arms. “Thank you for believing, for understanding.”
Lydia let herself sink into his embrace, just glad to have him back and the other fairies gone. “You don’t get to choose your family.”
Chapter 23
Caspian laid out the wafers and filled up the teapot while Lydia topped up the sugar. Since bringing the fairy-made silver tea set to Callaway House the place was immaculate. All the dust had been cleaned away, and while Lydia was amazed, he warned her not to say anything as that would be breaking the unspoken agreement between Brownie and tea set owner. That his Brownies had followed him to Callaway House made him suspect there was a deal he didn’t know about, one he didn’t want to know about.
Dylis had agreed to help him keep the promise to the imp who had been nothing but helpful at the shop—Bramwel was used to the idea and was glad not to be doing the dusting himself.
“Do you regret selling your house?” She lifted her gaze.
“No.” They’d needed a mortgage to do the repairs, but with two incomes that hadn’t been hard—if he sold his house and she sold hers and they moved into the house. The closing on his place had been today. He was now bound to Callaway House financially as well as emotionally, and he couldn’t be happier.
Since Bramwel was running the shop Caspian had spent more time at the house making sure the repairs were done in keeping with the house’s history. But he missed his shop, even if he was still going on buying trips. Also given the news of late, he hoped Bramwel would be going back sooner rather than later. The disease outbreaks were getting worse, which meant the situation in Annwyn was, too. He tried not to think about it as there was nothing he could do.
Caspian slipped his arms around Lydia’s waist and kissed the back of her neck. He remembere
d doing that before—while he hadn’t been quite himself—but she liked it and he’d realized that the fairy side of him was part of him. Instead of trying to control or suppress it as he once had, he’d embraced it and found living with it was much easier. But then Lydia knew him better than anyone else.
She leaned back against him. “Are you ever going to make an honest woman out of me?”
“Maybe one day.” He wasn’t in a hurry, not because he expected his relationship with Lydia to fail, but because the paper didn’t prove anything.
She turned her head. “You know I’d keep my name.”
“Yep.” He moved the collar of her shirt aside and kissed the side of her neck. His hands splayed over her hips, drawing her closer so she could feel him hard against her butt.
“You don’t care?” She gave her hips a wiggle that felt entirely too good.
“No. Fairies never change names, and the children take the name of their fairy parent.” His thumbs slid under her shirt, sweeping across the bare skin of her stomach. “Do you want to go upstairs?”
“If I say no?”
He undid the button on her black trousers. “I’m happy to keep going here.”
She covered his hands with hers, guiding them lower. He smiled as he kissed her earlobe, and raked the skin softly with his teeth. She gave a little moan, but made no effort to move.
“You want to stay here in the kitchen?” His fingers traced her inner thigh.
With every breath and every kiss they were creating new memories in the house. It was feeling more like a home. A place where he belonged. Where she belonged. And while the past could never be erased, the present could be written over the top, creating a future he hadn’t thought possible.
“Only if there are no fairies watching.”
He laughed. “Only me.”
Read on for a look at the first book in the Shadowlands series, The Goblin King
