by Alex Rivers
She shrugged, looking almost confused.
“It was like an enchantment, and speaking it out loud would break it. We were the only ones who knew, but we didn’t need to say it out loud. It was an unspoken understanding. We just knew. It was a phantom love, strengthened by its secrecy.” She choked on a sob. “Except—it was all in my head. Do you know what it feels like to realize that your great romance was a fiction? That you were in it alone?”
I swallowed hard. This was the saddest wedding I’d ever attended. “You never said anything to him?”
She shook her head, the tears streaming. “I guess maybe some part of me was afraid of the truth—that I’d invented it all. I didn’t want the phantom to slip away from me. It was all I had. I wanted him to say something first. He’d realize that he loved me, and he’d be so overcome with emotion that he’d break our unspoken understanding. He’d confess everything, and I’d get to stare into his eyes, and to kiss his lips.” She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Those things never happened, but I imagined them so vividly they’re more real than my memories. It’s more real than the things that actually happened. It felt real. It’s just that—it was only real to me.”
I nodded, stunned by Elrine’s confession.
“I kept hoping that once he got his revenge, we could say everything out loud,” she continued. “I thought once we overthrew Ogmios, together, he’d be able to move on from his past. He’d see me—the woman who’d been at his side all this time. His true mate.” She fell silent, then let out a long, shuddering sigh. “And then you showed up.”
I looked down at my hands, embarrassed.
“I knew he desired you, but it couldn’t have been serious,” she continued. “You were a pixie. A terror leech. You were from the house of his enemies, the people he’d sworn to slaughter. I thought you were just a small, unfortunate part of the Callach’s prophecy. And then, one day, I could see the change in him. The way he said your name. The way he spoke of you. The reverence in his voice, the protectiveness. The way he always wanted to be near you. And I knew.” She sniffed loudly. “You were beautiful, and capable, and strong-willed, and kind. All the things Roan admired. And then I panicked. I told him I wanted him to snare me, to bond with him for life.”
I knew it. Roan had told me. But still, hearing her say it gave me a shock.
Pain etched her features. “He said I was like a sister to him. All that time I’d thought our love was so powerful because we’d never spoken of it out loud—he hadn’t felt any of it. And when I saw that the bond between you had saved you from the interrogator’s venom, I knew the truth. You were soulmates.” Her face contorted with bitterness. “And those centuries I spent in love with him—certain that he loved me back—it was all a sad joke.”
Elrine hadn’t been particularly nice to me, but I couldn’t ignore her raw pain. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Like I said, it isn’t personal. It’s just how things are. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for being horrible to you.”
For the second time, a wave of shock hit me. “Oh. Okay.”
She gave me a sad half-smile. “You could tell me that I wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, you were.” I smiled back at her. “Totally horrible.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, well. Can you imagine? Being in love for all your life, and then someone just comes and takes him?”
“No,” I said truthfully. “I can’t imagine the heartbreak.”
“It doesn’t feel great.” She turned around. “Can you please button the rest of my dress?”
“Of course.”
I finished the last four buttons of her dress, and straightened it a bit.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m a mess.” She let out a small hiccup. “My face is puffy and red from crying, and I’m not allowed to use glamour, because in the House of Arawn, females are snared as they are.”
“Maybe I can help a bit,” I said, opening my little gold clutch. “It’s not glamour, but it’s the next best thing. Concealer, lipstick, a bit of shimmery makeup. You’ll look perfect. And then I seriously need to use the pig bucket.”
Chapter 16
By the time I returned to the temple, I saw that the stone rows now stood crammed with wedding guests. Or rather, snaring guests. When I looked around, I recognized some faces. A banshee I’d once fought in the Arawn palace. Lord Fuloran from the house of Ernmas. A hulking fae—one of Grendel’s lackeys. As gutter fae, Nerius and Branwen had to sit near the back. Branwen was biting her lip, her eyes shimmering with tears. Elrine’s heart wasn’t the only one breaking today. In the front row, Lord Balor had joined the guests, dressed in a maroon velvet suit.
As I approached, he turned to wink at me. “Prime pocket!” He beamed. “You are looking particularly prime today.”
I wrinkled my nose as I took my seat next to Roan. “Thanks.”
I crossed the room and sat back by Roan, who’d begun glaring at Lord Balor. Apparently, Roan didn’t like my new nickname.
The rustle of silks filled the hall as people suddenly stood. I rose, looking back at the temple’s entrance. Lord Judoc was crossing the room slowly, his dark eyes straight ahead. Elrine might not love him, but the man was beautiful. He had chiseled features, and his shiny, dark hair hung to his shoulders. He wore a tasteful gray suit over his lean, muscular body. A thin sword hung at his waist. As he walked, he managed to inspire a feeling of respect and gravity around him. His steps were graceful, and he walked slowly until he reached the dais, and stood on one side of the altar. I tried to ignore the fact that his mother was not in attendance because I’d set her on fire. In the fae realm, apparently you could still attend a snaring even if you’d burned the mother of the groom to death.
At the front of the temple, Judoc paused, turning back to the entrance to wait for his bride—or rather, his ensnared female.
All eyes shifted to the back of the temple. From the gloom beyond the temple steps, Elrine appeared, and as she reached the top step, warm light danced over her vibrant hair, her ice-blue dress. She clutched a small bouquet of wildflowers. When I glanced back at Judoc, I could see the awe in his face, his dark eyes shining. The House of Arawn was not used to anyone as beautiful as Elrine.
“The ensnared are not allowed to use glamour,” Roan whispered to me. “And yet, look how beautiful she is.”
For the first time, I realized that there was only brotherly pride and love in his tone. I smiled at him. “Some fae don’t need glamour.”
The fae did not have music at their ensnarement ceremonies, just the gentle cooing of the doves. In Elrine’s eyes, I saw mostly fear. But as she walked further down the aisle, she kept her eyes locked on Judoc. The further she got down the aisle, the more her shoulders seemed to relax. For a moment, as she walked by us, her eyes met Roan’s, and pain flashed in them. But the look was gone as soon as it had come, and she crossed to Judoc with a faint smile. She stood across the small altar from him.
“Lady Elrine of Ernmas.” Judoc’s voice echoed over the stone hall. “I have waited centuries for this moment. For you to stand by me, a mate for life.”
I blinked in surprise. Roan had mentioned that Judoc had been courting her, but I hadn’t realized for how long. At least someone here would be getting his heart’s desire.
“Judoc Arawn,” Elrine answered gravely. “It is my honor to join by your side, making you my mate for life. I have long waited for a strong and kind-hearted man, a true leader of his people who always thinks of the greater good.”
I glanced at Roan, wondering if he could hear the double meaning in her sentence, that she was probably talking about him, but I saw nothing in his expression to suggest he thought so.
Lord Judoc unsheathed his sword and gripped the blade, sliding it through his palm. Drops of blood spattered the altar, and he held his hand out to Elrine. She grabbed it. I winced slightly as she licked his palm,
the blood reddening her lips. The temperature dropped as she unveiled, her shoulders shimmering with blue-feathered wings, her eyes becoming silver. Then she took a dagger from the altar, grimacing as she cut her hand. She offered it to Judoc. Slowly, he brought it to his lips and kissed the open wound. He changed as well, his body growing more muscular, a large scorpion’s tail materializing behind him. It reminded me of his mother’s tail as she stung me. I shivered uncontrollably, recalling the pain.
With their palms pressed together, Judoc reached for the altar, picking up a golden cord from between two candelabra. Staring into Elrine’s eyes, he wrapped the cord around her waist, then tightened it, pulling her closer until their bodies touched.
With his dark eyes shining, Judoc looked out into the crowd. “I begin my new life as Judoc of Ernmas, a member of the Court of Mirth!”
I leaned in to Roan, whispering, “Judoc of Ernmas? He’s taking her name, and joining her court?”
Roan nodded. “It’s the old custom of the Republic. The male takes the name and court of the ensnared female. We must revive the old ways in order to move forward.”
Judoc and Elrine stared into each other’s eyes, holding their bleeding hands together. A crimson trickle spilled down Elrine’s pale wrist. They smiled, and I thought I could see something in Elrine’s silvery eyes that I hadn’t seen before. Had she felt something during this ceremony? Maybe she was actually seeing Judoc for the first time, liking the look of him unveiled.
Or maybe it was just my wishful thinking. I was a sucker for romantic movies, and I wanted a happy ending to this one. Around us, the guests began hugging each other and chatting.
Just as I was contemplating happy endings, a wail echoed off the stone walls—a single banshee, standing in the crowd, her mouth open, keening to the heavens. My heart skipped a beat.
The guests turned, nervously chattering, holding on to each other, as more and more banshees erupted into mournful wails.
“Death,” I breathed.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell clanged, and my pulse began to race.
Roan slid an arm around me, pulling me closer. “Someone is attacking the outpost. Can you find where they are?”
I frantically rummaged in my little gold clutch, searching for one of my mirrors. I whipped out a mirrored bracelet, its surface already flickering as I searched through the reflections around us until I found the line of Unseelie guards, desperately trying to protect the outpost’s entrance. Their attackers were tall, angelic, eyes flashing with fury.
“One floor above us!” I shouted, my heart hammering. “Seelie warriors!”
Roan drew his sword, reluctantly releasing me from his protective grip. “I’m going up to the entrance. Don’t let them get anywhere near you.”
Judoc and a few other fae warriors followed close behind, swords raised.
I stared, transfixed at the images in the mirror. The Seelie seemed to glow, pale hair flowing around their coldly perfect faces. In the reflection, they moved gracefully, silently. Ferocity burned from their cold faces. Already, I could see three Arawn fae lying dead on the floor, and the Seelie were about to break through the line of guards. If they managed to get here, they’d slaughter everyone in the temple—and I wasn’t convinced Roan and the others would get to the Seelie in time.
My heart thrumming, I ran down the aisle until I spotted Branwen’s red dress. “Branwen!” I shouted, and she turned her head to face me. “I need you by my side!”
I saw the confusion on her face, and then the flicker of understanding. She nodded, and I let my mind bond with the reflection.
Adrenaline surged, and I jumped through the mirror, its cold surface shimmering against my body.
Claws sprouted from my hands as I leaped out of the reflection in one of the palace corridors, where a line of Seelie faced a dwindling line of Unseelie guards. There had to be at least two dozen Seelie warriors crammed into the hall, and I’d emerged inches away from one of them. I lunged for his neck, canines snapping, claw ripping his cheek. He grunted, stumbling back—but already another Seelie was running for me, sword swinging.
I dodged the blade, pulling the stiletto from my purse. Another swing cut the wind before my face, but a shadowy blade immediately deflected it. Branwen was fighting alongside me, using her shadow magic. I saw the disgust etched across the features of the Seelie across from us—this type of magic was supposed to be forbidden. I took advantage of his distraction, driving my blade between his ribs. He fell to the ground.
We were still near the entrance, the Seelie attack still blocked—but only just. The din of clanging metal and the roars of battle echoed off the high stone ceilings. I added my own battle scream as I barreled at one of the Seelie, shimmering into his reflective armor, only to appear behind him. I reached up, standing on my tiptoes, and gripped his pale hair as I dragged my stiletto through his throat. Blood sprayed over the walls.
Nearby, one of the torches guttered, then exploded as a flaming figure shot from it, his skin a scaly green. He breathed a cloud of flames at a line of Seelie warriors. The Seelie warriors shouted in pain as flames ignited their hair, their clothes. Some fell to the floor, trying to douse the fire. I didn’t recognize the flame fae, but he was obviously one of the Unseelie. Apparently, Branwen and I weren’t the only ones who could move quickly between places.
The Seelie fell back toward the entrance, recovering from the initial attack. Forming a barrier in front of the Seelie, three enormous soldiers moved forward, carrying immense, metallic shields. They protected the others as they put out the flames.
The wall of shields began to move forward, encroaching on me and the Unseelie guards. From behind it, the Seelie thrust with large swords, moving slowly closer. The reach of the swords and the impenetrable shields made them into a formidable enemy—a living, moving tank.
A twang sounded as an arrow shot from behind their line, whizzing a few inches from my neck. It clattered to the floor behind me. I threw myself against the wall as a volley of arrows shot past, the Seelie shooting above the shielded warriors.
A tendril of fear coiled through me as the arrows zoomed past. Maybe it was time to change tactics. I focused on the knights’ armors and shields, bonding with the reflections. Pressed against the wall, covered in a cold sweat, I created images of writhing snakes, dancing flames, hundreds of spiders.
The Seelie didn’t even waver. They’d come prepared for my tricks.
The flame fae shot forward, breathing a powerful arc of fire at the line of Seelie. The heat singed my hair, and I shielded my face from the flames. The Seelie crouched behind the shields, which began to glow red-hot as the flames pounded against them. The shielded warriors stumbled back, the fire forcing them out. But as soon as the firestorm faded, they began to move forward again.
Just as I was waiting for another volley of arrows to slice through the air, a roar echoed off the stone. The Lord of Balor hurtled past me, bull horns protruding from his head. He smashed into the knights, Roan running in his wake, swinging his golden sword, roaring. When the Seelie unleashed another round of arrows, two hit Balor. Still, the huge fae was hardly deterred as he gored one of the knights, his bull’s horns denting and tearing the plate armor.
More Unseelie poured into the hallway: Nerius, a deranged grin on his face, waving his weapon wildly. Lord Judoc, his scorpion’s tail snapping breathtakingly fast as it stung again, and again, and again. He fought viciously, a male protecting his mate.
When one of the shielded warriors fell to the ground, another replaced him. They were putting up a fierce fight, their swords swinging fast and far, arrows whizzing through the air. The wails of the banshee filled the halls.
But the Seelie were losing ground. Despite everything, a smile curled my lips. This was what happened when five of the Unseelie courts worked together. The Seelie hadn’t been prepared for such unity.
Or had they?
A cloud of fear bloomed in my chest. They’d attacked now for a reason. Th
e snaring ceremony. They knew they could catch us all with one attack. And yet, they had blundered into the entrance, raising the alarms, getting themselves caught in a narrow bottleneck. Then they used slow, heavy warriors, better for blocking the way than moving past us to slaughter the wedding guests. Even the arrows, it seemed, served for nothing more than to push us slightly back. To buy time.
This wasn’t the Seelie army—just a strike team. They must have known we would have seasoned fighters. That they’d never manage to win with strength alone.
My knees began to shake. This wasn’t the Seelie attack. This was a decoy.
Frantically, I rummaged in my purse for a mirror, and looked into it, searching. The temple looked calm, the wedding guests unharmed. Reflections flickered as I searched the rest of the outpost, looking for movement—for the real attack.
A shift in one of the reflections caught my eye—a cavernous hall, the arched ceiling bolstered by columns. A small figure slunk within the shadows—a woman with dark hair. I couldn’t breathe.
Siofra.
She was carefully setting a jar at the base of a pillar. Several jars already stood by the rest of the pillars, each one glowing red. Their positions by the columns and the careful way she handled them instantly gave their purpose away. Explosives. And we were trapped in here, our entrance blocked by the Seelie.
My mind reeled. Siofra was about to bury us all.
Chapter 17
I slipped silently into the hall behind Siofra, and the reflection I passed through shimmered behind me. I quickly scanned the room, assessing the risks. I could see four jars full of the red material. Siofra held a fifth in her hand and, crouching, she placed it gently on the floor by one of the pillars. She muttered to herself—a low, angry mumble. Frankly, she sounded deranged.
She glanced at a hand mirror and nodded. When she touched the surface, it shimmered. She pulled another jar from the reflection.
