Arden yanked the door open to Willow’s so hard it almost smacked Cato in the forehead. Without an apology she walked in and went up to the counter, ordering three pumpkin spice lattes without thinking. It wasn’t until the barista handed them to her five minutes later that she noticed they weren’t waiting with her.
They’d already seated themselves in one of the booths by the window, sitting silently opposite one another.
Arden chose the empty space next to Eskel, handing out the coffees without a word. She ignored Cato’s shocked expression when she set one in front of him. If he was here to give the appearance that she wasn’t alone with a Bloodheart, he might as well play his role to the hilt.
“How much have you told him?” Cato asked her, making sure to keep his voice down so as not to be overheard.
“You’ve told me more than she has,” Eskel replied before she could decide what to say.
Cato frowned, and then seemed to recall that he’d been throwing titles around like crazy and grunted. He took his first sip from the cup and made a face, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
“This tastes like someone stuck a dessert into a blender,” he said.
“Duh,” Arden gulped hers, relishing the burn down her throat, “and?”
“I like it.” He took another sip, this one bigger than the last.
“I already knew the Unseelie existed,” Eskel said, picking up the conversation where they’d left off in the theater.
“And how did you know that, exactly?” Cato pressed.
“I’ve seen your kind before.”
“Leave him alone.” Arden rubbed her temple, a headache starting to form.
“And the ring?” Cato completely ignored her.
The ring Eskel was wearing flashed in the sunlight when he moved his hand to grip his coffee cup. He remained silent, staring the Unseelie down across the table.
Cato blew out a breath. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Bloodheart.”
“I know what you’re capable of,” he disagreed.
“How?” Cato laughed, his tone degrading. “How can you know all the things that she still doesn’t?” He chucked his chin toward Arden, who stiffened. “She’s seen us all her life, and there are still thousands of secrets—horrible, grotesque secrets—left for her to uncover.”
Eskel opened his mouth, the anger in his eyes apparent, but Cato wasn’t finished.
“Do you know what we call them, boy?” he hissed, leaning across the table. “We secret things? We call them the Heartless. That?” He motioned yet again to Arden, who wasn’t looking at either of them now but at a spot on the table top. “She’s a ‘heart’ girl.”
“Stop.” Mavek was the only one who called her that, who called her heart, and hearing it sneered off the other faerie’s lips made her grimace. It didn’t seem like a sweet endearment when Cato said it. It sounded dirty.
“Tell him the truth,” Cato insisted, setting his glare on her now. “The whole truth.”
Eskel frowned at both of them, obviously torn between defending Arden again and wanting to know what was going on.
“It didn’t matter,” she said, then corrected, “it doesn’t. It doesn’t apply here. I told you.”
“Yes,” Cato growled, “you told me. But I’ve been paying more attention than you have, Heartless, and the things he’s been telling are very contradictory.”
Now Arden was the one glancing between them, confused.
Cato rose. “Tell him, Arden. Or I’ll tell the Midnight Prince. I’ll tell him everything that I’ve seen.”
He walked off, going to inspect the menu on the other side of the room. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was concerned for Eskel. Which made about as much sense as flying pigs.
“What’s he talking about?” Eskel asked. He’d moved so that he was leaning back against the wall, turned toward her. His leg was folded up between them, one hand in his lap while the other remained on the table wrapped around his steaming coffee.
She tried to see what Cato claimed he perceived, thinking back on all of the times she and Eskel spent together. But she couldn’t understand, and thought the faerie must be wrong. Eskel hadn’t so much as flirted with her, let alone insinuated that he wanted more between them than friendship. Hell, she was pretty sure the only reason he even wanted that was because of his strange curiosity about the Unseelie.
“I told you I’m a Heartless because I have the sight,” she began, opting to just get it over with, “but that’s not all of it. I’ve been chosen to do something, something that could potentially spare my family from having the sight too. But there are rules. People like me, we’re called the Heartless because we can’t have any romantic entanglements with humans.”
She risked a glance his way, expecting to see more confusion or anger at having not been given the whole story. Instead, he was watching her with the same even expression as the one he’d worn when she’d told him about the Unseelie.
It was almost like he wasn’t surprised at all, but instead she’d confirmed something he’d already suspected. Except, that couldn’t be the case, because no one knew that. It wasn’t a typical part of faerie lore. He couldn’t have accidentally stumbled on it during his research last night.
And he’d only been researching for one night.
“You aren’t allowed to date humans?” he said, and she realized she’d been holding her breath waiting for him to speak.
“No,” she confirmed.
“Until when?”
Her frown deepened, but she answered anyway. “All Saints’ Eve.”
He nodded like that made all the sense in the world, only making her more uncomfortable by the ease with which he was taking all of this.
“What about Unseelie?”
“What about them?” She didn’t know what he was getting at.
“You can’t date humans. Can you date an Unseelie?”
“I can’t stand Cato,” she expressed.
“I wasn’t referring to him.”
“I…” She was so lost. “I suppose so. I’ve never asked anyone. They don’t really date humans.”
“I heard what Cato said about those two in the movie theater,” he confessed. “They use people, Arden. They trick people into believing that they love them, when all the while they’re just being used.” He paused, took a breath. “He’s using you.”
“Cato doesn’t have any reason to use me,” she argued, pulling back. “I’ve known him since I was a child. And he isn’t why I’m a Heartless. I volunteered, Eskel.”
She wanted to explain to him why she’d done it, tell him all about her mom and her sister and herself. She wanted to lay all of her hidden fears on the table for him to see, for him to understand. Because the way he was watching her now was very akin to what she’d always pictured Mavek’s expression would be if he had to visit her at the mental hospital.
Like he feared for her, and worse, like he pitied her.
Before she could say anything further, however, he waved his hand, forcing her out of the booth so that he could exit himself. He took his coffee with him, and opened his mouth to say something before pausing. His eyes were trained on the heart pendant hanging from her neck.
Whatever he’d been about to tell her, seeing the necklace must have changed his mind because, when he met her gaze again, his expression was blank.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
“Wait,” she tried to stop him, grabbing his arm but he lightly shook her off.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, not meeting her eyes. “I just need some time. To think.”
She let him go and watched as he circled around and passed by the windows. He was moving so fast he didn’t notice the two people already walking on the sidewalk. She thought for sure he was going to walk into them, but at the last second he turned sharply to the right to avoid the pair.
“That’s strange,” Cato said, suddenly at her side. He was staring after Eskel
as well.
Arden was about to ask him what he meant when she took a better look at the people he’d almost walked into.
The two Unseelie people.
Victor and Twila hadn’t noticed that he’d spotted them, too caught up in their own conversation. Too used to passing by humans unseen to realize when one actually had seen them.
“Did he tell you he also has the sight?” Cato asked.
Arden didn’t see or hear from Eskel the rest of the week, and she somewhat preferred it that way. She wasn’t sure what she would say to him if she did see him, so when he didn’t show up for class, she felt relief. Sure, she’d kept some things from him, but only because she hadn’t believed they’d directly affect him.
He’d outright lied to her.
What other reason could there be for him to keep a secret like that? That he had the sight as she did, that the real reason he’d known about the Unseelie was because he could see them clear as day? He’d claimed he thought he was seeing ghosts. Was that the truth? Or was there more to him than that?
In the back of her mind, a hypothesis had formed despite her best efforts to deny it. She didn’t want to think for even a moment she’d been so blind, that she’d fallen so easily into his trap.
By Thursday, Arden was ready to storm across town to find him, demanding answers. But she didn’t know what dorm building he lived in, and her student ID couldn’t access any of the entrances because she was a commuter. She could text him, but her pride wouldn’t allow it, interpreting his silence to mean that he didn’t want to speak with her either.
Her hypothesis, with its host of unavoidable suspicions, continued to churn, eating her up. The what ifs were deafening. What if it had all been a lie? What if Eskel had lied about who he was and how much he knew?
What if Eskel were a Heartless like her?
If they truly were opponents, she had enough anger to beat him now. That was the upside. She’d yet to meet either of the other two knights, or even hear a thing about them. Whenever she asked Mavek, he gave a cryptic response or changed the subject. She didn’t even know if the others would be forced to attend the autumn equinox like she was.
Arden’s mind continued to spin as she rode in the backseat of a black SUV. Mavek had sent it for her, not wanting her to bike to Rose Manor in the cold. The night was dark already, and she tugged her jacket tighter around her as they passed between lines of hawthorn trees.
Through their twisted branches, she watched the stars twinkle in and out and the moon shine like a beacon in the blue-black swirl of the sky. The leaves were crisp and tumbling, the tires of the SUV rolling through piles of them, sending crumpled bits flinging up toward the closed windows.
She’d only met the driver once before. Arden avoided looking at her, not wanting to dwell on the long strands of seaweed green hair that hung limply from the driver’s head. Arden couldn’t remember what she was called, only that it had something to do with bodies of water.
Mavek was supposed to have come himself, but the driver explained that the queen had detained him.
Arden tried not to think about what the two of them could be doing.
The manor was glittering when they pulled up, candles flickering in every window, washing the front in golden light. No one lingered at the entrance, and so it was easy enough for her to make her way through the front doors. That wasn’t the case inside.
The parlor was packed with bodies, all dressed in gauzy outfits and fancy corsets and vests. One woman was propped against the winding staircase, eyes glinting yellow in the light. She wore a trailing skirt of moss-colored silk and had branches arching over her shoulders, holding up the top of her dress.
At the landing stood a boy with shockingly white hair but a face that appeared no older than fourteen. He had on a bowler’s hat and a suit that looked like it was made from fallen leaves. The leaves were sewn together with brown thread and made a hushed crinkling sound that rivaled the logs in the fireplace when Arden passed.
More tree faeries lingered—all long, bark-like limbs and wide set black eyes—and a few shorter creatures with wizened faces like old men wearing scraps of leathers and furs. Young women were hanging from the ceilings from vines that hadn’t been there before, their dresses see-through and covered with sparkling gemstones of various sizes. Fresh green vines tangled down their legs, extending off their toes as if reaching for the people below.
Arden didn’t linger over any of them; none of this was new. The first time she’d seen the assemblage of Unseelie she’d been both mystified and terrified by them. There was just so much to take in, and so many pairs of eyes trailed after her. Now though, even with the glamorous outfits and the new types of fae, she found herself unimpressed.
Maybe it was because the face she was absently seeking wasn’t among them. She’d be relieved if she couldn’t find Eskel here. Surely that would mean that he wasn’t a Heartless, and she’d already determined that she didn’t want him to be.
Unlike those around her, Arden’s dress was not made from fine materials, nor very showy. It was a deep blue, almost black color that reminded her of Mavek’s hair. It had a halter top and tied around her neck, leaving her shoulders and arms bare. Her back was also completely exposed, with the material resuming below the small of her back. The skirt was a poofy confection, a departure from her usual attire, and only made it halfway down her thighs.
She’d purchased it for this very occasion, deciding she needed to do something bold, daring. The only problem was, she wasn’t quite sure what her intended goal was—if she meant the dress as a way to stand out amongst the Unseelie, or if she wanted it to help her blend in with them. Most of the fae here showed skin, unconcerned with displaying their bodies. Even some of the males.
Instead of heading straight for the backyard as usual, Arden turned toward the courtyard, a massive space as big as a football stadium, ringed by tall pillars of graying white stone columns. Tables, filled with more food than at any of the other revelries, were set in the gaps among the pillars, effectively confining the partying fae within the courtyard.
Arden had just stepped down from the porch when Cato suddenly materialized, sweeping her up in his arms to twirl her around to the music. She tried to pull away but his arms held tight, and her eyes narrowed when he grinned.
His suit was the color of copper, shiny and smooth, and curling around his right ear was a tiny branch. It stayed in place like an earring, little thorns clinging around the cartilage.
“Where is he?” she asked, as Cato moved them farther across the courtyard. Around them other bodies spun, and she caught the glimmer of eyes and flashes of teeth turned their way.
“The Midnight Prince is in the garden,” Cato told her, twirling her away with one arm and then snapping her back into his hold. “Don’t go though. It’s warmer here.”
“That’s why I have a jacket,” she commented, but didn’t bother to pull away a second time. She allowed him to twirl her again before finally asking one of the questions that had bothered her all week. “Did you know?”
Cato glanced away and back, obviously not needing her to elaborate. “No. I appeared in front of him fully visible.”
On the two occasions he’d popped up, Arden had been with Eskel so Cato had no reason to hide. A person with the sight gave off no special vibe or sensation. Neither did they have the power of the fae to screw with the minds of the humans around them. The only way to successfully spot a person with the sight was either by being told outright or by catching them watching an Unseelie that should have been unseen.
Arden suddenly remembered the will-o’-the-wisp she’d caught Eskel watching that first night. Maybe it hadn’t been visible or trying to lure him into the woods after all.
Cato moved them toward one of the tables and then let her go. He dropped into a low bow and then stepped back, immediately consumed by the crowd without another word. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.
Confused, and more than a bit an
noyed, Arden started after him when a hand descended on her shoulder. Turning, she came face-to-face with another faerie she hadn’t met before.
“Hello,” he said, green eyes watching her. His hair was golden blond and swept to the side, a line of diamonds trailed down the curve of his left ear. There was black paint at the corner of his right eye, winging out and forming an antler, like the tattoo the Erlking had. He was dressed in silver and white.
“Hello,” she replied, when all he did was stand there. Familiarity crawled up her spine but she still couldn’t place him. There was something however, in the glint of his eyes, in the curve of his mouth… something she recognized. “Do I know you?”
“May I have this dance, Arden Archer?” He held out his hand.
Not seeing a reason to object, and her curiosity piqued, she accepted. He was much more gentlemanly with his touch than Cato had been, keeping a good few inches between their bodies as he glided them around the courtyard.
It wasn’t until she noticed the inky shadow at their feet, cast by the lanterns and candles, that she figured it out.
“Brix?!” None of his features were remotely similar to the ones of the red headed faerie she’d met on her walk home last week. But the shadow—which had just lifted its hands to its head in the same mock move as before—was unchanged.
“This time you remember me,” he smiled. “An honor, truly.”
“But… how?” She turned her head, taking in all of him in an attempt to find one tiny thing the same. Even the curve of his jaw was different, however.
“I’m a Lutin,” he told her, as if that explained all. At her frown he laughed. “We’re shapeshifters, Arden. Experts at it, in fact, so much so that few of us even recall what our true forms look like.”
“Do you?” she asked before thinking that maybe that was considered a rude question.
“Would that I could forget,” he sighed. Then something caught his eye over her shoulder. He spun them faster in that direction, letting go of her long enough to snatch two glasses from a silver tray that was passing by, seemingly held up by nothing.
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