The distance between them seemed infinite; she stared at the rich crimson rug, at the tips of her shoes, at his shoes, but she could not look at his face.
“Goodnight, Theo,” she whispered.
“Goodnight, Lily.” He bowed to her, and the formality felt like a dash of icy water on her already frayed nerves.
Chapter 34
Realization
Lily lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then the ceiling again.
She finally gave up on sleep. Her eyes were gritty and her emotions worn. She pulled on her brocade dressing gown and stepped out into the shared space.
Theo’s suite was closed.
She knocked tentatively. There was no answer, and she imagined him sleeping the sleep of the innocent.
Her hand trembling, she knocked again, and still there was no answer.
She was his wife, after all. She tentatively turned the door handle, which opened without a sound. The sitting room was empty, and she knocked again at the door to his bedroom. There was no answer, and she turned the door handle even more cautiously than before.
The shades were closed against the moonlight, and she could see nothing at first. The room had the sense of emptiness, though, and that gave her a frisson of fear, which she resolutely ignored. He had been tired; she was sure of it. He must be deeply asleep. The emptiness must be merely her imagination.
As she drew closer to the bed, the fear rose, and when she lit the candle, she knew she would see the bed empty and unrumpled.
A distant sound caught her ear, and she froze, listening.
She heard Theo and someone else speaking in low tones, then another voice joined them, perhaps Anselm. The door closed again, and there was silence.
She hurried downstairs, candle held high, to see Anselm retreating to the servants’ quarters.
“What has happened? Where is Mr. Overton?” she asked.
He turned to her, startled, and said, “Business, my lady. Business has called him away.”
“In the middle of the night? What business?”
Anselm bowed politely. “I am not privy to all my master’s business, but I would wager my master thought it urgent. I am sure he will return as soon as he is able.” He hesitated, then added, “He left you a note at the breakfast table.”
She whispered her thanks and nearly ran to the breakfast room. A folded piece of paper was propped against the vase in the middle of the table.
Lilybeth was written in Theo’s neat, elegant hand across the front, and when she turned it over, the wax seal bore the Overton family crest.
It was so formal.
She put the candle down on the table, and the flame wavered as her hand shook. She broke the seal and unfolded the paper, pressing it flat against the table so the candlelight danced across it.
Dearest Lily,
Urgent business has called me north. I beg your forgiveness for my absence; I had hoped to bid you farewell in the morning, but duty calls. I shall return as soon as I may. While you wait my return, if you do at all, please know that I long for you with every fiber of my being.
Yours faithfully,
Theo
The ‘if you do at all’ caught at her heart, and she gave a broken little sob, then pressed the letter to her breast. She had been too cold to him. She had not meant to be cold!
What business could be so urgent as to call him away in the middle of the night? She strode to the window and looked out upon the garden, at the black velvet sky growing grey to the east.
She walked slowly back up the stairs.
Without any particular plan, she stepped into Theo’s private office. For all these weeks they had been married, she had never actually stepped foot into the room, and had only looked in once through a crack as he closed the door behind himself.
A heavy, ornate desk stood in the center of the room, and a well-worn leather chair sat behind it. On the right side of the desk was a neat stack of letters, all sealed and ready to be sent.
An account book lay closed. She hesitated, feeling as if she were intruding into something private. Theo had never invited her to look into his finances, but he had not withheld anything from her, either, so she mentally apologized as she opened the book and flipped through the pages. Page after page showed neat notations of expenses and income from a variety of sources. After some thought, Lily realized that most of them were from shipping investments.
A quill pen lay neatly beside an inkwell. The rear wall of the study was lined with bookshelves laden with hundreds of books. Lily turned to study the titles, raising the candle so the light would fall on them more clearly.
A Brief Historie of Faery Mischief. Snares and Traps of the Fair Folk. The Silverthorn Dynasty: An Incomplete History. Tambling. The Fair Folk. The Tale of Martellus and Avenian. Myths and Legends of the Fair Lands. Lily surveyed the titles with astonishment. Theo had never evidenced any particular interest in the Fair Folk, other than taking a lively and enduring delight in provoking Lord Willowvale.
The extensive library on the first floor contained nothing pertaining to the Fair Folk.
What possible reason would Theo have to read this many books about the Fair Lands?
A sick sense of dread began to unfurl within her, and she covered her mouth.
For several minutes she simply stood at Theo’s desk, thinking, with tears trickling down her cheeks. She stepped to the window and looked toward the garden again.
Chapter 35
A Clever Plan
Theo spent three hours opening and closing doors into Lord Willowvale’s manor, slowly working his way closer to the rooms in which Araminta and Oliver were now imprisoned. He opened the veil the tiniest crack, so he could see the room. If the room was empty, he could step through and try to sense Oliver or Araminta. If the room was not empty, he would merely glance through the crack without being noticed. The manor was vast, and the layout of the veil did not correspond to the layout of the manor in the least.
The two human captives were separated by two rooms and on opposite sides of a hall. The magical barriers had been an obstacle at first, but Theo had figured out that if he opened the door just this way, he was able to slip past the obstruction. Cedar was not able to edge his magic past this obstruction, and so was unable to help with opening the doors, though he steadfastly remained by Theo’s side.
Nevertheless, it took hours to pinpoint the locations. Accuracy became more difficult as Theo grew increasingly fatigued. Opening the doors from the veil into either human or Fair worlds had always been easier than opening doors into the veil, but after well over a hundred such openings, he was bone tired.
Finally he had both locations in mind. Oliver was sitting in a comfortable chair in the corner of a room, bound hand and foot by vines that looked like honeysuckle, though their white flowers were edged in gleaming silver. Araminta was locked in her room but not otherwise restrained.
Once he had determined their exact locations and was sure he could reach them, he said to Cedar, “Now we will make the decoy. We’ll go to the roaring valley for this, I think.”
They walked through the veil for an hour and stepped out into the blue moonlight. Cedar and Theo gathered sticks and vines which they wove into a human-sized figure.
The cool, dewy early morning of the forest felt wonderfully fresh, but Theo’s head throbbed mercilessly, and he leaned against tree trunks at intervals.
“Are you well, Theo?” Cedar asked.
“Yes.” Theo slid down the tree trunk and let his head rest against it for a moment. He pressed his fingers to the loam beneath him, pushing the last of the binding magic deep into the ground. He pushed it deeper until he felt it connect with the binding magic he had left there before.
Juniper had nearly killed himself generating this much binding magic so soon after his last great effort. Theo’s tender heart grieved the cost to the young fairy, but Juniper was both strong and brave. He’d given Theo all the binding magic he could muster and c
ollapsed before Theo could catch him. When he’d regained consciousness, he’d given Theo yet another breath of magic, another little snippet of hope.
At last the stick and vine simulacrum was the right size and shape. Theo carried it back through the veil to just outside Araminta’s room in Lord Willowvale’s manor.
“I’ll step out here and retrieve Lady Araminta. While I’m doing that, please make this as human as possible. Then we’ll go to Mr. Hathaway’s room, I’ll open the door, you’ll put the finishing touches on the glamour so that Lord Willowvale’s magic is confused, and I’ll get Mr. Hathaway into the veil.”
“Are you sure, Theo?” Cedar suppressed a shudder. “Lord Willowvale is powerful.”
“I promised, Cedar.” In the darkness, Theo could not meet Cedar’s gaze, but he found Cedar’s solid shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.
The fairy shook his head doubtfully. “I fear for you.”
Theo smiled. “I promised to save the Fair Lands as well, and I have not forgotten. I will endeavor not to let him kill me yet.”
“Be careful.”
Theo laughed, light and careless, but said nothing more.
He opened the door.
Theo stepped out of the veil, took Araminta by the hand, and pulled her into the veil before she managed a single word of surprise.
“Don’t be frightened, Lady Araminta. It’s me, Theo Overton, and this is a dear friend of mine. In just a moment, we will take you back home.”
To her credit, Araminta reacted to this extraordinary news and turn of events with a moment of silence to think rather than hysterical tears. Then she said, “Are you the Wraith, then?”
“I am, but it’s a secret,” Theo said with a smile in his voice. “Although I doubt it will matter much in a day or two. All the same, I entreat you not to tell anyone.”
“If I must stay quiet, I will, but I do thank you quite sincerely. I should like to be able to tell people who rescued me, if I may. What do you need to do before you take me home?”
“Please do not tell anyone. It would be terribly inconvenient, among other things. Oliver Hathaway came to rescue you as well, quite courageously, and has gotten into a bit of a situation.”
Araminta might have reacted to this news, but Theo turned his attention to Cedar and continued, “In a moment, I will step out into his room. As quickly as you can, put the finishing touches on our decoy here, and I will induce the vines to change their focus. As soon as Mr. Hathaway is free, take him and Lady Araminta home. There is something else I must do, and if I have the opportunity to do it tonight, I will take it. Don’t wait for me.”
Cedar’s discomfort with this plan was clear, but Theo led them a few feet down the corridor and asked, “Are you ready?”
“I suppose.”
Theo opened the door and peeked out, then stepped out with the simulacrum in his arms.
Oliver, half-asleep, with his head turned sideways against the back of the chair, reacted with belated surprise. He whispered harshly, “Run!”
“Just a moment,” said Theo, glancing quickly between the decoy, which had taken on Oliver’s appearance almost immediately, and Oliver himself.
“Not yet,” said Cedar from the door.
Theo said, quite calmly, “He’s almost here.”
Cedar said, “Now.”
Quick as thought, Theo shoved the simulacrum into the chair, half-atop Oliver and half beside him. The vines loosened in response, momentarily confused as to which was the real person, and Theo yanked the largest coil off Oliver.
Oliver scrambled from beneath the writhing vines while Theo alternately hauled him out and directed the loose tips of the agitated vines back toward the decoy.
The vines wrapped around Oliver’s ankle, and he sucked in a breath as it tightened painfully.
Theo said, “Take her and go! I’ll get Oliver into the veil for you when he’s free.”
Cedar snapped the door shut and took off through the veil with Araminta.
Theo yanked one loop of the vine over Oliver’s foot and put it around the simulacrum’s foot. The vines switched their attention to the decoy for a moment and relaxed their hold upon Oliver, who immediately clambered free.
Theo opened a door to the veil with a grunt of effort and shoved Oliver through it just as the vines abruptly transferred their attention to Theo. Within a moment, he was immobilized from the waist down.
“Stay where you are,” Theo said to Oliver. “He’ll be back for you in a moment.” Then he closed the door in Oliver’s startled face.
Chapter 36
An Encouraging Revelation
Vines wrapped more tightly about Theo’s legs and chest, and they now bore vicious, needle-sharp thorns which slid easily through the cloth of his shirt, jacket, and trousers into his flesh. Turned toward the door of the room as he was, he could no longer see the simulacrum now trapped in Oliver’s place.
For a moment, both hands were still free, and he fought to liberate one leg. The thorns lengthened, and he hissed in pain. Blood flowed freely from the punctures, leaving gruesome streaks down his formerly white shirt. Abandoning the attempt to free his leg, he cupped his hands and caught some of the blood that dripped from a wound in his side, then breathed the last of his borrowed binding magic into the crimson liquid. Then he flung both hands out wide to spray the blood in tiny droplets across the room, where they splattered across the floor and opposite wall.
Lord Ash Willowvale strolled into the room just as the vines caught Theo’s wrists. Thorns stabbed through the cuffs of his shirt and into the thin skin of his wrists. They slid between the fine bones to hold him with arms outstretched.
The fairy lord stepped closer and tilted his head. “I did not expect to see you here, puppy.”
Theo smiled. “I cannot say the same, unfortunately.”
“I’m impressed that your effort to free Oliver Hathaway was successful,” Lord Willowvale said.
Theo nodded, hiding a wince as a particularly cruel thorn dug deeper into his side.
The fairy continued, “However, you must be disappointed that he was recaptured so quickly.”
Theo nodded again. “I did expect you to be prompt, but I admit I am impressed. You’re quite thorough, considering.”
Lord Willowvale took a few steps toward the young man, studying him with cold eyes. “Considering what?”
“How arrogant you are.” Theo met the fairy’s icy gaze unflinchingly. “Hubris, my dear Lord Willowvale, has been the downfall of many greater than either of us. It would be wise to avoid it.”
The fairy glanced over Theo’s shoulder and apparently recognized the simulacrum for what it was. Theo felt his shock more than he saw it. It was a ripple of dismay that came through Willowvale’s vines, a tremor in the air that smelled of roses and blood, a flicker of the golden light that flooded the room. His eyes narrowed, and he looked back at Theo, who smiled radiantly.
The fairy clenched one hand, and the vines complied, piercing Theo ever more deeply. The pointed thorn ends grated against bone, then found new angles and slid farther in.
“You are ruled by your hatred,” Theo whispered. The fairy’s clenched hand made the vines so tight they creaked. “You should try love. When you love more deeply than you fear, you can do nearly anything.”
“I do hate you,” Lord Willowvale said. He surveyed the thorns and noted the one just touching the right side of Theo’s throat close to the vein. The young man had grown increasingly pale as the wounds continued to bleed.
The fairy made a little motion with one hand, and the thorn at Theo’s throat grew longer. Theo could not shift away; a hundred other thorns pinned him in place.
“Yet I think it would be to my advantage to show the king what insolent human has dared infiltrate his court. He will be intrigued to learn how you did it.”
“Do you think I would tell you?” Theo whispered.
The thorn slid through his skin and pierced the vein so that a slow, steady pulse of blood
welled up on the skin. It dripped down the vine to the ground.
Theo held his chin high, though his eyes had become slightly glassy. “How entertaining should I be when His Majesty Silverthorn arrives?”
“As much as possible.” Lord Willowvale smiled. “It won’t be long.”
“I will be delighted to surprise him, then.”
Lord Willowvale stood with his hands behind his back, studying Theo’s bloody form with distaste. “You have been a great deal of trouble to us,” he murmured, as if to himself.
Theo tried to keep his breaths steady, but his heart seemed to be racing inconveniently. “That was not my goal, if you can believe it,” he said at last.
“Was it not?” Lord Willowvale said conversationally. “What was your goal, then?”
“The children.” Theo smiled with all the cheerfulness he could muster. “Piquing your pride was only a pleasant side effect.”
The fairy made a careless motion with his hand, and the thorns dug deeper. Theo closed his eyes and thought of Lily.
Eyes still closed, he murmured, “How did you find the children’s home, Lord Willowvale?”
The fairy gave a startled huff. “Your wife was unwise enough to admit that she had seen the children and that they were well-cared for. I reviewed my surveillance of her brother’s movements over the last months and realized where it must be.” He gave a low, malicious chuckle. “That must rankle you, I wager, that your wife and her brother were so instrumental in your downfall.”
Theo smiled, giddy with relief that Lily’s blunder had been so slight and so accidental. He whispered, “How many children does His Majesty have at the palace now?”
Lord Willowvale surveyed his helpless prisoner. The thorns were now nearly three inches long, though the length could not be seen since so much was buried in the Wraith’s all-too-human flesh. The barb at his throat was shorter; His Majesty Silverthorn would want to question him, and even the king could not revive him once he were truly dead.
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