by Nadine Mutas
His muscles tensed under her hands. He pushed her back just far enough to look at her, his face a study in disbelief. “Why are you telling me this? I thought you should keep that a secret?”
“I want to share it with you,” she said, and made sure he heard the emphasis and determination in her voice.
“Why?” His expression bordered on panicked. “If it’s so powerful, why would you trust anyone—”
She laid her hand on his mouth. “Not anyone. You. I trust you.” She caressed his lips with her thumb. “It’s a gift. I know you will honor it.”
The greatest intimacy she was capable of, the most precious part of herself she could give him—besides her life. If she had to go, she wanted to do so knowing she had shared what was a prerogative between fae mates, bonded for eternity.
He clasped his hand around hers, so much emotion written into the sculpted planes and angles of his face, into the earthen shades of his eyes. “I will. I swear on my life, I’ll never use it against you.”
She smiled, kissed his hand. “It makes me happy, knowing you’ll carry my true name in your heart.” Even after I’m gone.
Her conscience stung her again, and made it difficult to breathe. She damned her softened heart for not locking away what had no place here between them. And yet, doubt soured her happiness.
She struggled again with the urge to tell him, if not all, then at least that she was cursed to die. She failed miserably. Explaining it to him was an exercise in pain and futility, because there was nothing he could do to break it. Nothing she would allow him to do. For the only way to save her life was to take his, and even if he knew, if he were to offer, or worse yet, insist, she’d never let him make the sacrifice. No, sharing her fate with him would do nothing but break his heart twice—once now, when she told him, and the second time when death took her.
Would it have been fairer not to have sex with him, not to return his love? Maybe. She could have made it easier for him by continuing to refuse his advances. Her death would hit him harder now. It would have been the truly selfless thing to do, to push him away, to not further encourage his love…
Ah, but wasn’t she already selfless enough, giving up her life for his? This one thing, she wanted for herself…these few, fleeting moments in his arms, to be his true lover for the precious time they had left.
Chapter 21
The key jingled in Maeve’s hand when she unlocked the massive door to the Murray mansion. Stepping inside, she made sure to close the door carefully—she hated the loud bang when someone let it fall shut.
As she made her way through the foyer toward the kitchen, she heard them and smiled. Alek and Lily were home. After Basil went into Faerie, and Hazel left as well, Lily and Alek had moved in temporarily to keep her company. The house was awfully big for one person alone, and she appreciated having someone else around.
The door to the kitchen stood a little ajar, and Maeve was about to push it fully open when Alek’s words made her pause.
“Why doesn’t Merle just tell her? Maeve has a right to know.”
Her breath caught. I should go. This clearly wasn’t meant for her ears. Curiosity be damned—nothing good ever came from listening in on these kinds of conversations.
Lily replied before Maeve could bring herself to move. “She doesn’t want to put her in that position. I mean, just imagine what it would do to Maeve if Merle tells her.”
Tells me what? Closing her eyes, she shook herself. If Merle was keeping something from her, there had to be a good reason, and she should trust her sister’s judgment. Go. Now.
And yet her feet remained glued to the tiled floor.
“Maybe there’s still a chance to fix it,” Lily added.
“But there’s not much time left, right? What did Merle say, how long until she has to uphold the balance next?”
“A couple of days, depending on how much of her magic Arawn will use.”
A frustrated sound from Alek. “That fucking rat bastard. Knowing him, he’ll keep draining her for stupid shit, and then before you guys can find a solution, the payback will hit, and Merle—”
What? Merle what? Maeve wanted to scream.
“You know,” Lily said so quietly Maeve had to strain to hear her, “having a baby is already so risky. Like, there’s so much shit that can go wrong, and miscarriages are so common in the first three months. And I know how much Merle and Rhun wanted this. They’ve been trying for over half a year.” Lily took an audible breath. When she continued, her voice was thick with tears. “I know how much this means to them. Merle wants to be a mom so bad—” Her sentence ended in a sob.
Dizzy, Maeve grabbed the wall so she wouldn’t collapse. There was no blood left in her head. Couldn’t be. Her heart wasn’t pumping anymore.
“And now this,” Lily continued, her voice paper thin. “Gods, Alek, this is so unfair. I thought it was bad that my mom had to decide which one of her babies to give to the fae, but Merle having to choose between keeping her sister safe from Arawn or saving her baby? This is so fucked up.”
Her heart chose that moment to come back alive to thunder in her chest, to rush blood so fast through her body, her vision swam in red. Pieces snapped together in her mind.
Merle pregnant…upholding the balance…risking the baby…because of her deal with Arawn…
…to keep him from claiming Maeve.
Gasping for air, she pushed off the wall, walked back into the foyer, up the staircase and into her room, locked the door and sank to the floor, feeling so much that she felt nothing at all.
Chapter 22
Now or never.
Isa watched Basil step off the path into the underbrush to “go water some tree,” as he put it, giving her the precious opportunity she’d been waiting for. Ever since she paid her debt to him, she’d been racking her brain, trying to remember the correct spell to cast on Calâr. She still wasn’t entirely sure she had it right, but time was running out. She needed to act.
They’d left the inn at dawn, and with the midmorning sun peeking out from behind a layer of clouds, they were so close to Nornûn now she could sense its magic. This might be the last chance she’d get before they reached the oracle. Now Basil had left them alone for a few minutes, she could turn on Calâr and find out once and for all what, exactly, he planned to do—and how to stop him. If she managed to extract the details of Calâr’s agenda from him this way, she’d never need to reveal her own duplicity to Basil…she could sink into death’s arms without having tainted the bond she shared with him.
Leaves rustled as Basil disappeared in the bushes. As soon as he was out of sight, Isa glanced at Calâr out of the corner of her eye, her muscles tensing. He was righting his tunic, looking in the other direction. One deep breath…and she muttered the words that would hopefully shatter his mental shields, penetrate his mind, and reveal his thoughts and memories.
“Arîmai koyun’or tarhâ,” she whispered, forming the complex hand gesture to unlock the magic of the spell, and praying to the Fates she got it right. There was a reason witches studied years to learn this craft—it was tricky, complicated, and dangerous if done incorrectly.
Power charged the air, then struck and slammed into Calâr. He gasped, swayed, stumbled against a tree. Isa staggered as well, as affected by the magic as he was, drawn to the object she’d cast her spell on. She tumbled into Calâr, her thoughts whirling, sights and sounds of the outside world fading in a storm of mental images as she was sucked into the other fae’s mind.
Darkness, light flickering to and fro, shadows rising and falling like mist. Murmured voices echoed as if reverberating in a great hall. Colors and shapes formed out of the haze.
…unparalleled power…rare half-breed magic…
Basil’s image flashed, faded.
Make them kneel, make them weak. I’ll make them fear me.
Greed gripped her, so strong she shivered from it.
Voices whispered past, vicious and cold.
…not of royal blood�
�never ascend to the throne…keep your nose in those dusty books…
Anger roared like a violent, red-tinged storm.
They drown in their decadence, unambitious and without vision. Now is my time. None of them had the gumption to even try, and it will be their ruin.
Basil’s face again, his beauty like a knife to her heart. More images, thoughts, memories rushed around her, and she saw, felt the horror he planned.
“What's going on?”
The male voice punched through the swirling mist of Calâr’s thoughts. A hand grabbed her shoulder, pulled her away from the other fae, broke the connection of their minds. Isa staggered against Basil, blinked at the light of the real world filtering back into her consciousness.
“Isa and I were just—” Calâr began, his chest heaving as if he’d run a mile, but she cut him off, her heart racing.
“He’s set a trap, Basil.”
Basil frowned, snapped to attention. “What?”
“Don't listen to her,” Calâr said, taking a step towards Basil, his face set in such reassuring lines, his whole demeanor that of an honest, well-meaning male. “She seems to have had another of her seizures, and it confused her mind.”
Isa gritted her teeth, looking daggers at the other fae. “My mind is fine.” She stood, turned to Basil. “He cast a spell. While you were sleeping the other night. Some sort of mind mirror. He bound himself to you, so when you trigger the true name revelation at the oracle, he’ll see what you see, hear what you hear in your head, because your thoughts are mirrored in his mind. Once he knows your true name, he’ll be able to control you.”
Basil tensed, glancing between Isa and Calâr.
“You have no proof,” Calâr said, the calm of his voice betrayed by the twitching of his facial muscles, the murderous glint in his eyes as he glared at her.
Isa turned back to Basil. “I broke into his mind just now. I had to know, had to find out what he’s planning to do with you. Remember my warning? This is it, this is the part that I was missing—why he’d want to control you. As a demon-fae half-breed, your powers—”
Calâr made a move, but froze at the sight of a nocked arrow pointing directly at his face, ready to ram into his eye. The muscles in Basil’s arms flexed as he pulled the arrow back farther on the bowstring.
“Don’t even think about it,” Basil said to him. Looking at Isa, he added, “Keep talking.”
She gave him a grim nod. “Your powers are a direct threat to all living fae. Used maliciously, your magic can weaken and hurt every single fae in Faerie…even kill them. Calâr wants this power for himself. Half-breeds like you are rare since the fae consider them abominations, and they’re normally killed at birth, so he’s been waiting for one for hundreds of years. Most fae don’t even know about this anymore, because demon-fae relations have been forbidden for so long that all but a few of us have forgotten why. I had no idea. But he—”
She jerked her head at Calâr, curled her lip in disgust. “As keeper of the fae archives, he came upon this information. He found out about you, and now he’s on the verge of a power grab the likes of which Faerie has never seen.
“And he’s been lying to you beyond that.” She focused on Basil again. “That story he told you about how the fae who exchanged you at birth told him on her deathbed about you, and asked him to take care of you? That’s a bald-faced lie. Oh, he did learn about you and your identity from the fae who exchanged you…right before he murdered her. And he hasn't told you about your father.”
“She’s the one who’s lying,” Calâr hissed. “She hasn’t mentioned that she—”
“He’s still alive,” Isa added, in a rush to distract Basil from whatever Calâr was going to spit out. “Basil—your father is still alive. He wasn’t killed back then, he was imprisoned, and he managed to escape just a few days ago. He slaughtered the entire royal court to avenge you and your mother, and he injured the fae who exchanged you. She told your father about you, and he immediately left the fae in the throne room to go searching for you. Calâr was there too. He survived the slaughter, and he pressed the fae for more information and then killed her. He’s been lying to you from the start, just like I warned you. He’s been leading you here to the Oracle so you can learn your true name, but with the mind mirror he’s set up, he’ll learn it, too, and he’ll enslave you.”
The fae sneered. “Why should you trust her to tell the truth—”
“I trust her with my life.” Basil’s voice was deadly quiet.
“Oh?” The vindictive glint in Calâr’s eyes chilled the blood in her veins. “The same life she needs to take to break her death curse?”
Basil frowned, but kept his bow and arrow trained on Calâr. “What?”
Isa trembled, her pulse a roar in her ears. This is it. Her precarious house of cards was going to collapse and scatter to the four winds.
An evil smile sneaked across Calâr’s face. “She hasn’t told you about that, has she? Not even in those intimate hours she spent in your arms…” He clucked his tongue. “How disappointing. Then again, it makes sense she’d hesitate to tell you that she needs to kill you if she wants to live.”
The bow shook in Basil’s hands. “Isa?” he ground out. “What the fuck is he talking about?”
She opened her mouth, her stomach cramping, but her voice fled. Words failed her.
“Now, look at this,” Calâr said on a sigh. “She still won’t tell you. Well, I guess that leaves me to explain her deceit to you. Mind you, I’ve taken this straight from her thoughts. When she attacked me just now, trying to break into my mind, her little spell backfired and allowed me to see inside her head. So much in there she hasn’t told you, so much guilt and shame…”
Calâr shook his head. “You see, twenty-six years ago, she was cursed to die a slow and painful death, and the seizures she’s been having are the symptoms of that curse progressing. She’s stalled it with magic for a while, but death has been catching up with her. And you—” His smile was sharp like a blade. “—you’re her only hope to break the curse. For that, she needs to kill you.”
No, Isa wanted to scream, it’s not true. Not anymore. The bastard was twisting the truth, and yet her heart raced so fast, her breath came so uneven, she found herself incapable of uttering a single word.
Basil stood as still as if turned to stone, his widened eyes fixed on Calâr.
The nefarious fae weasel continued, his expression displaying more confidence than mere moments ago, apparently buoyed by the obvious impact of his revelations. “You’re probably wondering why she would need to kill you to break her curse. Know what else happened twenty-six years ago?” He made a dramatic pause. “When your mother ran from the royal court to save you, she was brought back…by a bounty hunter.”
Basil jerked, and the bow almost slipped from his grasp. His eyes flicked to Isa.
“Yes,” Calâr whispered. “It was Isa. Your mother pleaded with her, begged her to spare her and her unborn child. And what did your beloved do? She dragged your pregnant mother back to Faerie anyway, to collect her reward.”
Isa couldn’t see through her tears, but even so, she felt Basil’s look spear her like a physical weapon.
“Your mother,” Calâr went on, “realized the bounty hunter didn’t have a shred of compassion or decency, so she cursed her.”
A gasp broke from Isa’s throat. Air. Where was the air? Her lungs tried to haul in breath.
“When your lovely Isa later learned that the only way to break the curse was to kill the one who cast it, or end her bloodline, she despaired. Roana died in childbirth, and her babe as well, from what she heard. Now, imagine her joy when she found out Roana’s child was alive all along—she only needed to find him, kill him, and her curse would shatter.
“And guess how she found out about it? She was there the night your father slaughtered the royal court. She was present in the throne room, hiding in stone when the massacre began. She heard the fae tell your father about you.” Calâ
r lowered his voice to a vicious snarl. “She knew your father was alive all this time. She knew, and she kept it from you, even though she understands how much it would mean to you.”
Her chest constricted at the look on Basil’s face. At the pain etched into his features. “Isa,” he rasped. “Is this true?”
Shaking, she was shaking so hard she barely got the word out. “Yes.”
Something broke in his eyes, and her heart splintered along with it. “You saw my father? You knew he’s looking for me?”
“Yes.” Her voice, it was a hoarse whisper.
“And you were the one who brought my mother back to Faerie?”
“Yes.” Her heart, it could not hurt more than this.
“She cursed you to die?”
“Yes.” Her soul, it could not be any more stained.
His voice was barely more than a croak. “You want to kill me?”
“No.” She shook her head, frantically, and took a step toward him. “No, I don’t.”
He frowned. “But you just said—”
“I wanted to kill you.” The words tumbled out on a sob. “To break the curse. It’s the only way, but I don’t want to anymore. I can’t take your life. I just can’t. And I won’t, I swear to you.”
“But all this time,” Basil ground out, “you’ve been lying to me.” He exhaled roughly. “That’s why you were so mad when I saved your life. Because owing me a life debt meant you couldn’t kill me, right? There I was, falling in love with you, while you were biding your time until you could turn around and kill me.”
He shouted the last part, and she flinched.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please understand… I’ve been suffering from this curse for more than two decades…when I met you, all I cared about was survival. I didn’t know you. To me, you were the one thing left between me and an end to my curse, my suffering. But the more I got to know you, the more I—” She tried to draw in breath, and her lungs stung. “Basil, I could already have killed you, right after I paid my debt. I didn’t. I can’t.”
