“That sounds good?” Branwyn said uncertainly.
A smile touched his mouth but not his eyes. “So many have said. But to answer your question, no, Branwyn. I no longer believe the Creator made this world for us to enjoy. It seems possible the Creator made us for the world to enjoy. I have had many centuries to think about it and I have no good conclusion, save that the centuries have been very long and we have had precious little in the way of change that has not come hand in hand with destruction. We war and die and are reborn merely to relieve the tedium. And each cycle, the few Machine weapons we have claim more lives that are lost forever.”
Branwyn scowled, now angry on Tarn’s behalf. Nobody deserved that, to be locked away from the world for so long that death was just an end to the tedium. “The locked door is connected to your prison, isn’t it? You’re getting me to make a key to your cell door.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. After a moment of consideration, he simply said, “Yes. Another Artificer crafted it long ago, but the craftings of Artificers sometimes take time to mature.” Then he added, “It is not the only lock. Even if it were open, we would not truly be free.”
“Then why, after all this time, are you hesitating on sending me after the more dangerous Machines?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” His voice was low. “I should not care, and yet I find I do.”
Branwyn ran her hands through her hair. “I’m mortal, that’s what happens. Beautifully mortal, right?”
“That’s what happens. And yet you’re risking that mortality on a dying girl. I can’t believe you welcome it.” He caught her hand in her hair, untangled her suddenly nerveless fingers and laced them with his own.
Branwyn’s answer vanished in a mouth gone suddenly dry. When had he gotten so close? He regarded her calmly, his palm warm against hers. She stared up into his eyes for a long moment, then remembered herself and managed to whisper, “We have to take care of each other. I never believed in you, but I always believed in us.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “Beautifully mortal.”
She’d knotted her fingers in the lapel of his half-buttoned jacket, her knuckles just brushing his warm skin. For a long, breathless moment they looked at each other. The air between them seemed electrified.
Then his other hand slid down the curve of her waist, and she woke from her daze. “Um,” she said, and he promptly removed his hand from her hip. Their fingers seemed fused together, though. Then he pulled his hand away from hers. His intent gaze never left her face.
She stumbled backward again, both embarrassed and worried. Then she remembered the Queen of Stone looking out through her eyes, got even more embarrassed, and banished the feeling with anger.
“You don’t need to seduce me or spin me sad stories,” she said coldly. “I’m already helping you, despite the advice of almost everybody I know.”
He looked blank for a moment, then his face shuttered. “So I see. I do appreciate your efforts.”
“Well, your appreciation doesn’t need to go that far,” Branwyn said firmly. “Teaching me magic and saving Penny is enough.”
“Yes.” He held out his hand to her again, the same formal gesture he used to escort her through his court. When she didn’t take it, his smile was chilly. “Would you like me to make arrangements to acquire the next Machine on my list? Despite the danger?”
“Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying.” Relief surged over her at the topic change. Danger? It was dangerous to let herself be attracted to him. Or to—to any of them. That was the true mortal peril: to be swept away in their strength and power and forget that which made her Branwyn. She thought something like that had happened to Penny. And she couldn’t help believing Tarn knew that, that he was trying something devious. But she couldn’t figure out why.
She needed to think about it. She needed time.
As if reading her mind, Tarn said, “It will take some time. A few days. Run away, Branwyn, while you can. Stay away.” He turned away, dismissing her from his attention.
Without argument, and without hesitation, Branwyn departed.
-thirteen-
After a restless night’s sleep, Branwyn was less confused. She still didn’t know Tarn’s motivation, but how could she? He was ancient, and probably a little insane after being confined for so long—imprisonment did that to people, after all—and trying to understand his motivations was like trying to understand the motivations of a thunderstorm. A sexy male thunderstorm who wanted to kiss her.
No, what was best was just putting that aside. She was going to learn her magic and save Penny and go from there. Maybe she'd alleviate an injustice, too. And it would all work out very well, as long as Tarn kept his hands to himself. And didn’t look at her with that odd mix of hunger and tenderness in his eyes, an expression that would make anybody attracted to men weak in the knees. And she could do it, too. She could resist being charmed. It might be a different matter if it was—
No. She wasn’t going there. There was stupid, and then there was suicidal.
It didn’t matter anyhow, because it was Tarn, and Tarn could make her weak in the knees, but not in the head.
And it wasn’t to prove this to herself that she went to her family house after work and used the silver key Tarn had given her to open the front door to his realm. She had to practice her magic, after all. She was ready to interact with him on a purely business level.
The door opened directly to the studio set aside for her in Tarn’s realm. Nobody was there but her.
That was… frustrating. But, she quickly realized, probably for the best. It let her focus on what was really important. So she spent some time reaching into the substrate of the Backworld and conjuring up materials. This time, with her experience in her earthly studio to guide her, she paid attention to the details of what she was summoning. She was doing better, she thought. She still wasn’t quite sure where this was leading, in concrete terms, but it was an interesting road.
When she opened the door of her Faerie studio, it led directly into the front hall of her family home. That was going to end up as inconvenient as the previous arrangement, she predicted. But at the moment, nobody was waiting for her, and that was a pleasant change. From the living room, she heard Jaimie playing his guitar softly: the gentle strumming he occupied himself with while other people were talking. She also heard her mother, and another voice. Curious, she wandered down the hall. At first, she didn’t recognize the new voice, and then she couldn’t place it. When she did, she froze midstep.
Howl appeared in the doorframe. “Hi, Branwyn,” he said, more cheerful than she expected. “Come and meet Jaimie’s new producer.”
Hoping she was wrong, Branwyn went into the living room. But she wasn’t. The Lady Rime of Nightwell sat on the nice couch drinking a glass of iced tea. Her white gown had been replaced by pearl grey slacks and a dusky rose blouse, but her hair was just as it had been when they'd met on the Faerie road. Jaimie sat beside her, his fingers moving lightly over the strings of his instrument.
Branwyn’s mother looked up. “Branwyn, lovely. Come meet Rime Nightwell. Rime, this is my eldest daughter.”
Rime looked at Branwyn with sapphire eyes and smiled. “Hello, Branwyn. I was hoping to meet you.”
Branwyn stared at the faerie woman. “You mean meet me again. We’ve met before.”
“Yes,” said Rime, sipping her drink. “You have a lovely family.”
Branwyn let her mother tug her down to the loveseat beside her. Howl hovered nearby, his gaze fixed on the faerie noble as if she was the most lovely thing he’d ever seen. Branwyn grudgingly admitted to herself that he might be right. She’d probably looked the same way at Tarn the other day.
“Where did you two meet?” Holly asked. There was an odd edge in her voice that made Branwyn actually look at her. Her mother was smiling, and it was genuine, but there was a wry twist to it that only those who knew her best would recognize, and even then on
ly if they were paying attention.
“Um, while I was working on my latest project. I encountered her on a trip to pick up supplies.”
Rime said, “That’s right, you said. Although you didn’t tell me anything about your current project. I’d love to hear about it.”
Branwyn still had the half-finished Machine key in her pocket. She wondered if Rime was after it, then remembered that it was dangerous for her kind to even touch. “Maybe later, when I’m done. What made you decide to help Jaimie with his album? Things seem to be moving so quickly.”
Rime shrugged her slim shoulders gracefully. “It was an easy decision. He’s an excellent musician. I always look about for excellence in the arts when I arrive someplace new.” Her mouth curved. “Song has long been an interest of mine. There are so many possibilities here and now. So much to finally be achieved. The internet is amazing, don’t you think?”
Holly took up the conversational thread, asking Rime about the far country she was clearly from. Branwyn let out a deep breath. She couldn’t help but think of her great-grandmother’s stories of fairies—or faeries—who sucked the life out of artists and poets. But Tarn, as irritating as he was, wasn’t sucking out her life, and she had no reason to expect that from Rime, either. Unless one of the other factions took steps, the faeries were here to stay, and they deserved to be treated as individuals. Innocent—or at least inoffensive—until proven guilty.
She’d have to tell Howl what Rime was, though, when she told him everything else. That would be amusing.
Rime gave her an unreadable look and Branwyn realized she’d smiled at the thought. Then Rime looked away, complimenting her mother on the house and guiding the conversation away from her own origins. It was something Branwyn had never been able to do. She sat back and let the words flow over her, thinking about her mother’s discomfort.
“Hello!” said Rhianna from the door, and then, “You,” with a hostility Branwyn had rarely heard in her sister’s voice. “You don’t belong here.”
Startled, she looked up. Rhianna’s emerald gaze was fixed on Rime. Jaimie’s strumming stopped.
Rime looked amused. “But I was invited in.”
Branwyn’s mother gave a tiny sigh, then rose to her feet. “Rhianna, don’t be rude to my guests.”
“Mom, I told you, she’s bad news.”
Holly said, “And I told you, I have—” and she glanced at Rime. “Excuse me,” she said brightly. “I just want to have a word with my daughter.” Then she grabbed Rhianna by the arm and tugged her out of the room just like she was a child. Curious, Branwyn stood up to follow.
Over her mother’s shoulder, Rhianna said, “You stay here, Branwyn. Don’t let her do anything.” Then they both vanished to the hall beyond.
Rime tilted her head, still smiling faintly, listening to the indistinct sound of hushed voices. “Does she think I’m going to steal the silver?”
“Your kind does have that reputation for theft,” Branwyn said, settling on the couch again and keeping the conversation vague.
Jaimie smiled to himself as he started picking at the guitar again. “I warned you my family was energetic. It’s nice to see Rhianna feeling protective of me for once. I remember when I first started dating Holly, she reacted almost exactly the same way to me.”
Branwyn remembered that, too. She’d been left in the living room the exact same way, while Holly dragged Rhianna out to plead with her to behave. “So, is it just coincidence that you met Jaimie after meeting me?”
“Of course,” said Rime, and Branwyn remembered that it was only faerie rulers that couldn’t lie, and only in their own realms. Rime went on. “I’m glad I did, though. We’ve been looking for someone like Jaimie for a while. I’m hoping to talk him into helping out with a special project.”
Branwyn narrowed her eyes. “What kind of special project?”
Rime put a finger in front of her lips. “That would be telling.” Something chimed and she reached into her designer purse and pulled out a smartphone. “I love these things,” she said absently as she tapped the screen. “Aw, it’s a video of a kitten. I used to have to work really hard to set up situations like this, and now here they are, available to everybody with an internet connection. Look.” She proffered the smartphone.
Warily, Branwyn took the phone and watched the small screen. It was a video of a kitten being enormously cute. She’d seen it before. She was pretty sure everybody not locked in a shadow world had seen it before. But maybe it was a rule about kitten videos: there was always somebody new to appreciate them.
Holly entered the room again, looking harried. “Branwyn, your sister wants to talk to you.” She squeezed Branwyn’s shoulder as she moved past and settled into her previous seat. “So, Rime, you were telling us about your company.”
Branwyn hesitated. She wanted to hear about Rime’s so-called company, which she assumed was the faerie court called Nightwell. She hadn't forgotten that Nightwell was Underlight's rival in moving into the urban regions. But her mother gave her a pleading glance. It was enough; she hated seeing her mother with that look.
Out in the hallway, Rhianna was leaning against the wall, looking like a kid sent from the classroom for misbehavior. She gave Branwyn a dark look. “Grandma’s going to be pissed if she comes back from her trip and that is still hanging around.”
Branwyn tilted her head. “Would she even know? Mom grew up on Gran-gran and Grandma’s stories and she’s clueless.”
Rhianna shook her head. “She knows something’s off. She can’t see the details, though. Seriously, Branwyn, what were you thinking?”
Stung, Branwyn said, “Me? I didn’t bring her here.”
“But you’re fraternizing with the guys living in the attic.”
“They’ve moved to the front door now,” Branwyn said absently. “And really? Fraternizing?”
“They ought to just keep moving straight out of the house, then.” Rhianna ran a hand through her hair. “Grandma is going to disown us.”
“I’ve told him that, yes. And since we’re discussing fraternization, who exactly are you fraternizing with?”
“That’s classified,” Rhianna said sweetly. “But I know you got your knacks from Marley’s new boyfriend.”
Knacks, Branwyn thought. I wonder how much she actually knows. And she thought, Which one is she calling Marley’s boyfriend? She almost asked. But she looked at Rhianna’s pleased expression and remembered the Queen of Stone looking out through her eyes. “You’re right,” she said. “You probably shouldn’t tell me anything if it’s important.” She felt an unexpected urge to cry.
Rhianna’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Why?”
From the other side of the hall, Jaimie said, “Thanks for stopping by, Rime.” Holly echoed her husband’s thanks and Rime made pleased noises. Then she appeared in the doorframe.
“I’ll be leaving now, ladies. I hope next time we meet, I’ll have earned a better opinion from you, Rhianna.” Rime’s smile showed her perfect teeth.
Branwyn glanced between Rhianna and Rime, still a little bewildered by the shift in her little sister’s behavior. She was normally the one to smooth-talk the people who Branwyn could barely stand to speak with. The world had turned upside down.
Then Rime swept down the hall and out the door. Rhianna caught Branwyn’s arm and pressed her head against her sister’s shoulder. “God. I don’t know how you can stand looking at her.”
Branwyn blinked. “She looks normal to me, Rhianna. I mean, like she stepped out of a magazine, but… human.”
Rhianna peered up at her, confused. “Not like a living rave?”
Frowning, Branwyn tugged her into the music room. “Not unless I turn on my, uh, knack. And even then, it’s not that bad. No worse than anybody else, just… different.” She stared at Rhianna. “You can’t turn it off? Whoever gave you the charm didn’t give you a way to turn it off?”
Rhianna’s eyes widened. “You can?” Her gaze went distant, and she s
traightened up. “Right. Thanks.”
Warily, Branwyn said, “Are you okay?”
“Oh yes,” said Rhianna brightly. “I need to talk to some people, but it’ll be fine.”
“How about talking to me?” Howl said plaintively from the door. He’d been so quiet in the living room that Branwyn had forgotten about him.
She looked between Rhianna and Howl. Then she gave up. They were adults. Sometimes the best thing a big sister could do was provide information other people wouldn’t.
Settling in the comfy chair, she began to tell them the story of how she discovered that the supernatural was more than just a fantasy. “Once upon a time…”
It took a while. And when she was done, she met Howl’s disbelieving gaze and sighed, right before he silently turned and left the room.
*
***“I’m Vardaris”***
Views: 952,031
Some kind of game or movie promo?
This video has been produced in a semi-professional manner. A tall, devastatingly attractive man with ebony skin, light eyes and wild violet hair sits in a wooden chair in front of a burgundy velvet curtain. He’s wearing quite a nice suit, with an open jacket and his shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
“Once upon a time,” he begins, in a deep and sonorous voice that sounds like chocolate-covered cherries taste. It’s entirely too nice to be real. “Once upon a time, a race of dreamers were stolen away from the world. Their cousins were jealous of what could be accomplished with dreams, you see. The jealous cousins followed the rules and rose at dawn and worked hard and wanted what they were told to want. They never understood why they felt so hollow inside. But the dreamers knew the secret was to break the rules and follow their hearts.” The storyteller presses his long fingers over his heart. “The dreamers understood true happiness, and they shared it with all who followed them. The jealous cousins invented more rules to try and control the dreamers, but the dreamers paid these rules no attention either. But the jealous cousins were very good at rules, and eventually they created a rule so powerful that the dreamers could no longer exist without obeying it. And so they were stolen away from the world. The world knew the value of dreamers, though. It saved a place for them, even as the hollowness of the jealous cousins spread throughout everything. Occasionally the dreamers could fill the hollowness from beyond the world, but the sickness went deep.”
Infinity Key (Senyaza Series Book 2) Page 17
