Rufus blinked, astounded. “I wasn’t—”
Fae didn’t let him finish, “Because as close as you were, I loved him too. I loved him and I had to discover his death by word of mouth, days after it happened, by which time you too, were gone. So, as great a tragedy as it was to you, you must understand that on the day Jionat died, I lost both of you. I lost you and I was alone.” She never looked away from his face, and he stared into hers. “You were never alone,” she said.
Rufus couldn’t find any words, so he reached forward and took her hand instead. He shook her fingers in a worthless attempt at comfort, and she watched the display with a faint smile.
“You must be exceptionally bored, sitting in here,” she eventually said. “What are you doing?”
“Hiding.”
“From whom?”
“The wanderers.”
“The who?” Fae asked, arching an eyebrow.
Rufus leant in conspiratorially. “They move down the corridors, sweeping to and fro like a lazy river—but they’ve no destination, and their eyes are beautiful and vacant.”
Fae blinked at him, before frowning with realisation. “You mean the Sidhe tenants who live with us on the mountain? My extended family?”
“Is that who they are? They look sickeningly content with everything. I don’t like it.” Rufus had recognised them as full-blooded Sidhe the moment he saw them. There was a translucent element about them, as if they were made of a lighter substance, and they were tall— so tall, the women at least eye-level with him, and the men over a head taller. They walked as if they were dancing on the air, without a care in the world. Rufus had found them so unnerving, he’d done his utmost to avoid them.
Fae laughed. “Yes, they do rather live in their own world. They do as they please, when they please—they have no sense of time at all. It’s funny what a difference mortality can make…” she trailed off. “You don’t like them?”
“They seem detached. But perhaps I’m too earthly for my own good.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps we both are...” Fae dropped her gaze to the table, drawing off into silence.
Rufus glanced down to where she was looking, and realised he was still tightly holding her hand. He released her, and she quickly withdrew her fingers and stood.
“Regardless, I didn’t come here to dwell,” she said. “To ensure you don’t die of boredom, I have found you a pretty distraction to occupy yourself with, while Joshua trains.”
Rufus narrowed his eyes in exaggerated suspicion. “A pretty distraction?” he repeated slowly, standing cautiously. Fae rolled her eyes.
“No, it’s not someone for you to steal to your bed. You can do that at your own leisure.”
Rufus gritted his teeth and ran his hand up through his hair. Morrigan’s hands on his body flashed in his mind, and then the halfling, blood pouring from the open wounds on his face and neck as Rufus stabbed over and over. “Ah—no,” Rufus said quickly, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. “No, I’m actually…I’ve rather lost my taste for that kind of companionship. For the moment.”
Fae grew impossibly still, and Rufus panicked, trying to discern the meaning behind her expression. He couldn’t be sure if she was surprised by his words, or whether her furrowed brow indicated she was angry at herself for mentioning it. As if she knew about everything.
Fae realised she was staring and looked away so abruptly, it was as if she were trying to retract her own expression. “A pity,” she spoke too loudly, “I am sure there is many a partner in the Neve who would have enjoyed your company.”
“Is Boyd among them? Because if my mood changes, I may make some effort,” Rufus half-joked, allowing Fae to push the conversation on.
“In that pursuit, you would be wasting your time.”
“Men don’t interest him?”
“Sex doesn’t interest him. At all.” Fae gestured for Rufus to follow her. “Once, a group of—what did you call them?—wanderers discovered he had no sexual inclination, and thought to educate him. Boyd was happy to go along with the experiment, until it went beyond kissing. Then I had to rescue him from the unwanted affection. He has remained happily disinterested since.”
“Is it because of Niamh’s alterations?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Curious,” Rufus pondered. “If I keep to my abstinence, we might be perfect for each other.”
“Rufus,” Fae said seriously, “Boyd is easily agitated, and you are an exceptionally worrisome and stressful person. You would break him, and he would remove your intestines in return. Better remain as friends.”
Rufus laughed nervously, sticking close to Fae’s side as she guided him through the corridors of the Neve. “Fae, where are you taking me?”
“I told you—a distraction.” Fae flicked her hair over her shoulder and slowed as they reached a grand set of double doors. “Because for all our talk of sex, I know your true temple.” She thrust the doors open, stepping back.
Rufus peered in curiously and froze, his mouth going dry. He took a few tentative steps forward and then grew still again, fearful of breaking the wondrous illusion. When the room didn’t disintegrate away, and he was sure it was real, he chanced a quick look at Fae, like an excitable puppy. Fae laughed as Rufus gabbled wordlessly. “Rufus, it’s only a library.”
“O-only a library?” Rufus gaped. It was the most beautiful room he’d seen since he’d left Harmatia. Whilst not as large as the Great Library there, it was still a fair size—tall, with a similar glass dome in the roof at the centre, and shelves upon shelves of books.
Rufus had once heard that the Harmatian Great Library was designed after a Sidhe Library in Avalon. This one, too, seemed to have echoed the architecture, and for Rufus, it seemed just a little as if he were returning home to happier times.
“You’re permitted to read whatever you wish,” Fae continued. “No book is safe from you.”
“I…This is…” Rufus felt on the verge of collapsing, his legs weak with gratitude. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d read a book. “Fae,” he eventually forced out, “I don’t much like my chances against your husband, but will you marry me?”
Fae, who’d been smiling, grew still. Rufus strode quickly toward the closest bookcase and began to flitter across the titles, like an anxious bird, spoiled for choice. The Ancient History of Mag Mell, Ballads of Eire, Sidhe Bloodlines & the Chosen—Rufus pulled them all from the shelves. From the corner of his eye, he saw Fae blink slowly, looking stunned.
“Reilly?” she mouthed, as if she’d forgotten her own husband, and she clasped her left hand, which was ring-less. Rufus had wondered about that. He turned, his arms now laden with books, and watched her. She noticed him looking and forced a smile. It fell quickly as they maintained their gaze. Rufus felt a rush of emotions fill him, unleashed by the height of his gratitude and appreciation. He wanted to cross the space between them and throw his arms around her, or perhaps sink to his knees and clasp her hands, as he’d done when she found them. Neither action seemed appropriate however, so he remained where he was.
“Fae.”
“Don’t apologise.” Fae seemed a little breathless. “Don’t apologise because you’re momentarily happy.”
“I won’t.” He stepped toward, but stopped himself before he could get any closer. “But…you know, don’t you? You know I trust you.”
Fae didn’t reply. Rufus swallowed.
“I wouldn’t let Joshua out of my sight, otherwise.”
“Rufus…”
Rufus tightened his arms around the books he’d piled into them, cradling them to his chest like children. He’d missed the weight of books. They made him feel strangely complete, like if he held them tightly enough they would fill the parts of him which had been carved away. “But we’re not children anymore, Fae. This isn’t Sarrin. And things have changed. I’ve changed.”
“I know.” Fae’s voice was hollow.
“You and I’ve both forgotten to share cer
tain things.” Rufus dropped his eyes purposefully to Fae’s empty hand, and she tensed. She clenched her fingers and then relaxed them with a faint, humourless laugh. She nodded. Rufus took another tiny step toward her. “But no matter how complicated this is, never doubt my gratitude.”
“Again, Rufus—it’s only a library.”
Rufus gave her a pointed look and Fae ducked her head and turned toward the door.
She was as closed off and guarded as him. “I need to go. Stay as long as you wish.” She paused in the doorway. “You’re welcome,” she whispered, lingering, before, with a sudden urgency, she sped from the room.
“Cull fish and neck breaks. Where are you trippin’ to now, you damned house-cat?” Aeron demanded furiously as the faerie ahead of him growled, flashing its yellowing teeth.
Far from being a cat, it was large, and canine in shape with eyes like fire. The creature was one of Nicnivin’s hunting hounds and had met Aeron on the edge of the Unseelie territory, sent to guide him through the woods. It clearly wasn’t happy with the task, because it had taken Aeron down the longest, most convoluted path it could, through bogs and thickets.
Aeron gave the faerie a kick on the backside and laughed as it roared and leapt right through him, tearing through his translucent skin. Landing face first on the ground behind, the faerie scrabbled away, thrusting its snout between its paws with a yelp. “Rah, didn’t head-scratch that you’d like that, eh Shuck?” The assassin whistled between his teeth and set off into the impending darkness. He knew they were getting closer by the unearthly prickling that moved down his soul-skin.
He’d left his mortal body in Beshuwa and walked now as a half-spirit. It was the only way he could hope to enter the Unseelie territory without being torn apart. Of course, he could only survive for so long like this—soon he would need to return to his fleshy tether. For now, however, it served him to be less than mortal.
He whistled again, and the Shuck rose to its ragged feed and padded forward, jaw hanging open so that saliva, blue and fiery, dripped from its rolling tongue. Aeron followed fearlessly after it into the perpetual black.
For several minutes they walked, the silence broken only by the thud of the Shuck’s paws. Aeron listening keenly to the world around him, trying to judge how far they were. From somewhere ahead, he heard low moans of pleasure and knew they were arriving at last.
The moans got louder as they approached, coupled with the clinking of goblets, and finally the wet smack of bodies. Aeron licked his lips, and as they passed beneath the sagging branches of several dying trees, they came upon a huge throne.
It was carved like a great monument out of the bones of something ancient and humungous. Along the top, figures were stretched, drinking and smoking, all caught in the frenzy of sex. Aeron salivated at the carnal beauty of the display and the Shuck slunk past him and lolled at the feet of a tiny girl who sat in the centre of the orgy.
She looked like a child of no more than eight, and sat with such a careless gaiety, she might have been in the middle of a flowery field. Her skin had the bluish undertone of a dead thing, her eyes were entirely black, and her hair fell down to her collar in a tangled mess of thick brown locks. Her chest, flat as her stomach, was covered by a white chemise that was much too big for her petite figure. It fell down to her knees, covering her thin legs.
She stretched her leg out and patted the Shuck with her foot fondly, the faerie rumbling an approval.
Aeron approached cautiously and she directed her attention to him, considering him long and hard. Finally she slid from the throne, her chemise rolling up. She was completely naked beneath it. She padded over to him and thrust out her arms expectantly, an impatient demand for affection. Aeron took her in his arms, lifting her up to his head-height. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her thighs squeezing his ribs.
In an instant Aeron felt her full weight. Her legs, which ought to have been weak, were powerful, her fingers which should have been small, were long and strong, and her breasts felt full and tender where there were none. If Aeron closed his eyes, he was holding a woman, and it sent his sensible mind reeling. Here in the Unseelie Court, the monsters had many faces, and each of the senses could betray each other.
Thankfully she didn’t speak—Aeron doubted even he could have survived that.
He released her and let her drop carefully to the ground, a child again. Dutifully, he knelt and grovelled before her.
“Hail Nicnivin, Ruler of the Dark, daughter of Domnu, fairest of the Fomorii.”
The Queen of the Unseelie Court smiled with unadulterated pleasure.
This time when he woke, Boyd wasn’t there to tear him from his dreams. Rufus gasped for air, his throat raw from screaming, and toppled from the bed, weak and bleary. Boyd had dosed him with a sleeping potion, and Rufus swooped dangerously as he stood, his body unprepared. He collided with the wall and crumpled against it, sliding to his knees.
The dream had been an amalgamation of horrors and sensations, starting and ending, as they always did, with the cold, red-darkness.
This time, however, Mielane had been there, but not as she once was. The Bean Nighe had sat washing her stained clothing, the river running red with the weight of so much blood. There seemed no end to her task, clothing piled around her, red and wet as she scrubbed. Rufus had understood his part in her chore. She sang as she washed, but it sounded more like a scream. Had she been capable of it, there would have been tears on her face.
“Look at all these people I’m going to kill,” Rufus had said, and he’d been pleased by the prospect—proud even, Morrigan’s arms wrapped around him, rocking him lovingly from side to side.
“I don’t want to kill anyone.” Rufus closed his eyes and hit his head against the wall. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“It’s a little late for that.” Jionat’s voice echoed behind him, and Rufus shook his head. “You can’t deny what you suspect—that Mielane didn’t stay for love of you. She stayed to foretell all the death you would cause.”
“No, no.” Rufus juddered, not daring to look over his shoulder, where Jionat loomed over him, his arms crossed. “You can’t be here. You’re not here.”
“Did you think a few books would keep me at bay?” Jionat snorted. “Do my warnings mean nothing to you?”
“Please.” Rufus drew his head back and struck it hard against the wall again. “Leave me alone. Please leave me alone.”
“You are alone.” Jionat dropped down beside him, his arms around Rufus’s neck, as if he meant to strangle him. “That’s the problem!”
Rufus sobbed harder, tearing his hands through his hair. He tugged his fringe and rammed his head against the wall again. The coarse stone began to tear into his skin, but he couldn’t stop, driven by desperation. He felt like a trapped animal chewing through its own leg to escape. “No, no, no. Go away. Go away.” He crashed his skull against the wall harder, and the force knocked his teeth together, sending pain through his cranium and down his neck. It made his ears ring and he saw white. He wrapped his arms around his head, cradling himself. “Please, please go away.”
From behind, the door opened and Boyd stepped in, his skittish walk easily recognisable. He grew still, and then ran to Rufus’s side.
“Rufus?” he said with alarm, kneeling beside him.
Rufus closed his eyes, his head against the wall.
“Are you alright?” Boyd whispered.
“I was just admiring the stonework,” Rufus mumbled, “with my face.”
He heard Boyd give a worried titter, and the sound triggered something in Rufus. Boyd’s voice grew panicked as fat tears began to stream once more down Rufus’s face.
“Rufus? What’s wrong? Rufus? Rufus?”
Rufus shook his head and sobbed, his whole body shuddering from the sudden force. Boyd gabbled, flustered and anxious, but Rufus couldn’t make out any of the words as waves of grief and panic overwhelmed him again. Unable to speak, he tipped into Boyd, his shoulder rested
against the man’s chest, and wept openly. Boyd’s incessant chatter died down to a soft murmur, and he hesitantly patted Rufus’s back.
“You’re safe now.”
Rufus didn’t have the heart, or ability, to correct Boyd. Yes—he was safe. It was the rest of them who weren’t.
Joshua found himself in the dark forest again, stood in a glade of thick, needled trees, frosted with snow. The earth was dry and cold, and there was a stillness and serenity to the air that made him feel he had no right to move or speak. Through the fence of trees to the side, he could see a vast lake down below, glittering an impossible blue. It looked so welcoming he was tempted to run down and throw himself in.
On the ground in front of him, the Isny Hunter, Varyn, was chained and shackled. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Varyn looked up at Joshua, his eyes narrowed to slits, as if he were in great pain.
“Where are we?”
“La’Kalciar.”
“The Lake region?” Joshua’s knowledge of Kathrak geography was limited, but he knew the four main provinces.
“My home.”
“I thought you were from Isnydea?” Joshua took a seat opposite the man, examining the thick black chains which bound him, like a mighty beast caught in a trap.
“Isnydea?” Varyn chuckled, the sound a soft rumble in the back of his throat. “The land of the damned. It’s not home for anybody.”
“Because of the Fomorii?”
“Because of the Shin.” Varyn gritted his teeth together, hissing. He doubled over, the chains around him seeming to grow tighter. They cut into his skin. Joshua hurried to Varyn’s side and tugged at the binds, trying to loosen them. They fed into the earth, like tree roots, and wouldn’t give-way to Joshua’s meagre strength.
“Don’t bother,” Varyn said, but there was an odd fondness in his gravelly voice. “You can’t break them.”
Blood of the Delphi (The Harmatia Cycle Book 2) Page 25
