“You have every right to be upset with me, Jessamiene. I cannot pretend not to see quite a good many things have changed in my absence.” He eyed her then, a hint of curiosity flashing over his features. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he seemed hesitant to speak. “I have not seen such a dress in a good many years now. Where did you get it?”
Their eyes met. Amie didn’t want to mention Dearg for some reason. She had a feeling he should never have brought her through the secret door and didn’t want to get him in trouble. “Got wet in the rain yesterday and found these,” she said.
“Curious you should find such old clothes yet intact,” he mused, rubbing his chin. Amie tensed, wondering if he might have known the previous owner. As she was digging her mind into a panic, his smile returned. “Now then, what sort of adventures have you been keeping yourself to, lass?”
“Maybe you should ask the guy you hired to protect me.”
Henry’s response was instantly guarded, a darker look than she’d ever caught on his genial face.
After opening a can of figurative worms Amie was required to go into detail over the long days of Henry’s absence. She touched briefly on learning about the House, horseback riding with Slaine, studying under Cook and gardening with Periwinkle. She didn’t mention the secret library, her little faerie friend or Dearg. Her uncle’s lips quirked with hidden amusement through tell of her guardians’ antics, as though he expected as much. All changed once she delved into the night before. Conveniently, she didn’t tell him she let Emrys kiss her and worse, she kissed him back.
He was conflicted, it was plain to see. By this point he had taken to pacing up and down the length of the rug she named Leroy. When she emphasized how close a brush with death she had found, he stopped. Sinking into his seat he brushed the hair from his forehead with a trembling hand and sighed.
“There is so much you have yet to learn, my poppet, so much of the burden I would see kept from you…” Sitting back into the cushion, he focused on the pop of the wood cracking against the strain of heat.
“I’m a big girl, Henry. And I’m American. We kind of pride ourselves on our independence. I think I can take it.”
“Never doubted you would, Jessamiene, however, there is quite a lot you do not know about Emrys. His history with this House is long and tragic. You might even say no other person in Silver Hollow has your interest closer to his heart.”
Amie scowled. “I can’t believe you’re trying to defend him.”
“You’ll be very glad of his defense when the time comes, mark me. Meantime, give him your attentions no matter what he instructs, but never fully trust him.”
“I thought you said no one had my interests more at heart?”
His smile was uncanny and unexpected. “He is not at all like us. As you must be aware, none of us come as close to humanity as you do. Emrys hails from a people so far removed from us, we cannot begin to bridge the differences. Because of this we must rely on and fear him at once.”
Amie rose to her feet, fists full of her borrowed skirts. “Tell me something I don’t know, then. What are you? What am I?” She should have known better than to expect anything better than a cryptic reply.
“You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?” he queried with a whimsical smirk. “I fear I must keep silent on the matter at present.” Holding up a hand to ward her protests, he continued, “I would keep you from knowing more than you can grasp. Though you might presume to have a stouter mind, you are not ready to learn everything yet.”
Amie couldn’t mask her disappointment, but she chose to trust him. He had done his best to look after her and she felt he deserved this chance. “So, you managed to survive Morcant Hogswillow, after all?” she teased and laughed at his sour expression, no better than if he’d swallowed a handful of sweet tarts.
A shadow passed over his face and hesitantly, he brought his leveled his gaze to her and said, “Aye, about the Lady Hogswillow, Jessamiene. There’s something I should have confessed sooner, but hadn’t the heart to tell you.”
All it took for Amie to figure out the big secret was the apology written in her uncle’s striking gray eyes. Dumping the empty tea cup onto the floor, she said, “What? She’s here?”
…
Wenderdowne was like a kettle trembling from too much steam on the stove. Once Amie listened to Henry’s excuse for bringing the stylized black widow home, she quite literally ran in the other direction. She would have felt supremely selfish for admitting to her uncle that she’d missed his company. Moreover, she had been hoping he might rescue her from lessons with Emrys. Quality time with her stalker was the last thing she wanted after their fight last night. But Henry subtly threatened that if she refused her lesson then Morcant was more than willing to have her accompany them through the grounds that afternoon.
When pigs fly, lady, Amie grumbled to herself as she found the Armory once more. Clutching her old servant garb, she hoped to aggravate Emrys even further. Underhill had been absent, forced to cater to the whims of their important guest, giving Amie free rein over her appearance. Wearing Dearg’s temporary gift was her way of getting even with Henry’s ultimatum. Only Emrys knew who had lent her the dress.
The servants Amie passed all carried a hitch in their giddy-up. Various feminine articles were being carried from one side of the castle to the other. Amie frowned when she noticed Reggie the butler hauling a trunk nearly double his size. No sooner had she watched him trudge up the grand staircase than Dani came rushing around the corner. The small, albino maid had tears streaming down her cheeks and food overturned onto her clothing.
“Dani, what’s wrong?” she called after the poor creature. Dani jumped, startled Betty Davis eyes leaping onto hers as though she had missed Amie before.
“N-nothing, milady…’twas terribly clumsy of me. All my fault! I’ll just change and return to my duty, aye?” Those blue eyes were pleading with her, begging for Amie to give her what little dignity she had left to cry in peace.
Amie nodded, still unused to people unwilling to act without her approval. She decided then she despised Morcant Hogswillow. Little could have lifted her mood, save the look on Emrys’ face when she entered the Armory.
…
“What in blithering toadstools have ye done to yourself?” Emrys bellowed across the room, pausing mid-motion from his weapons exercise.
Lifting her chin proudly, she practically skipped the rest of the way into the room before twirling before him. “Like it? I hear it’s all the rage in the village.”
Emrys’ arms tensed as he clenched the axe handle even more tightly. Only then did she realize his white shirt was drenched from perspiration and conveniently hugging his entire wiry muscular frame. His black hair had fallen flat onto his head for a change, giving him a more masculine and appealing look.
Curse him! He knew I was coming and probably planned this.
Amie hid the fact she was flustered well, stepping casually around him and fingering the weapon in his hands. “So, this is one of those mindless war tools only idiots use? I guess your own inner nixy isn’t as up to speed as you thought.”
Emrys’s mouth turned up at the corners in a grimace. “Aye, ye would see it that way, I suppose.”
“I’m only repeating your words. Maybe you should pay better attention.” Amie turned her back to him to examine the swords across from them. Behind her she felt the whir of wind and motion and barely shifted in time to miss the steel aimed at her head. Choking on her words, she sputtered while Emrys spun and righted his footing. “What the heck, Emrys? You could have killed me!”
Flashing his pointed white teeth, he replied, “Fortunately, ye were paying better attention.” Hooking the weapon back to its prongs, he snatched up a vest and, donning it, turned to face her. “Come, today I’m taking ye somewhere forbidden.”
…
Together, Emrys and Amie avoided the safety of the candle trail and took a series of hidden passages to avoid the servants. Soon th
e halls grew darker, unaffected by light, as though they preferred the darkness. When their feet began to sift through a fine layer of ashes, Amie knew where Emrys was taking her, the forbidden West Wing. Everywhere else the House had been resurrected to life. Here the destruction was untouched like a war memorial.
Eventually they came to a path she recognized, and her candle trembled in anticipation of finding the hidden library. Somehow, she desperately hoped Emrys wouldn’t lead them there. It was the only place in the castle she felt she could hold to herself. Yet Emrys pushed past the narrow corridor to return to the main hall once again. When Amie chanced a glance to the library, not even the glow of candles emanated from its doorframe.
Curiouser and curiouser…
His voice came from these black shadows, hollow and swallowing her whole. “The night we ran into one another, ye shouldn’t have been here, Jessamiene. Did no one tell you the dangers lurking here?”
“Besides you?” Amie repressed a sigh. “I’m not really worried about the House since I consider you more dangerous than any ghost.” He chuckled, slipped back into her bubble of candlelight in that effortless, creepy way of his. For a moment, she could feel the conflicting emotions rolling off of him in violent waves. The passion in his eyes stirred her blood to unhealthy levels, instantly reminded her of part of the reason she despised him.
“Better to know thine enemy, aye?” he said, eyeing her borrowed dress. “I’m willing to let slide the fact ye wear this in defiance of me.” Amie rolled her eyes when he held out an open palm and said, “Now let me show you the enemy ye have yet to meet.”
He insisted on holding her hand in his cool grip and because she knew better than to rebel until she got her answers out of him, she complied. Scorch marks crept from floor to rafter, most of which had fallen in without betraying their foundations. Silence stretched between them, filled with unseen watching eyes and anticipation leaking from the gray areas of her vision. It was the loneliness of these empty halls and rooms, the tragedy of residual smoke and ash on her lungs that made her forget to be angry at him.
“What happened here?”
His fingers tightened over hers. “Wenderdowne is the key to many things, Jessamiene. Long ago the Elders made a shield to protect them from human sickness. Those not chosen to join the Underground were left to run wild in your world, barred forever from their homes. The Vale was the only safe haven left after what the humans did.” He spoke indifferently, like a historian droning on about facts which did not affect him.
“So let me get this straight. This House leads to what, some other world?” Amie frowned as they turned a corner and came to a fallen-in staircase sinking down into an abyss. Emrys half carried, half led her down a safer route.
He laughed at her naivety and said, “Not another world, Jessamiene, the world as it was first intended. Your people are the ones hell bent on destroying it.”
“And I guess you’d know all about destruction, wouldn’t you?” she baited, held her breath when he said nothing. “You’re one of the ones who’ve been out there in it, right, outside?” She wanted to push his buttons like he had pushed hers, wanted to push him so he would leave her alone. No sooner had the words left her mouth than his hand released hers and her foot crashed through the weak wood. She screamed in fear and pain. Her candle fell and clattered down the rest of the way, leaving nothing but half her waist caught in the stairs. Ashes lifted a cloud and caught in her lungs. Coughs interrupted her screams, until a pair of hands lifted her by the arms, jerked her out of the woodwork and drew her into his chest. Her leg ached, burned beneath her torn skirts. She could already feel the blood surfacing. Shock kept her from interrupting him when he whispered in her ear.
“Do nay forget your uncle put your life in my hands.”
Yeah, and he forgot to mention you were a psycho!
Gasping for clean air and drinking in his scent instead, she anchored her forearms to his shoulders and growled back, “You don’t have to remind me.”
He held her closer long after his point was made, until she was forced to sink into his frame and feel. “Jessamiene,” he said, “it does not have to be like this. Fighting me is pointless because I will always win.”
“Want to bet?” she was angry enough to add. He only wrapped his arms firmly round her waist.
“I will always tell you what ye want to know, Jessamiene. I could drabble on the horrors of war and the consequences of lusting after power for days.” His lips against her ear made her shiver, disgusted and thrilled her at once. When he breathed her in, she felt his chest expand and collapse and heard the inhuman beat of his heart. She was surprised by his sudden tenderness and recalled his kisses.
Supporting her with one arm, he brought the other to push her fallen curls from her face. His thumb traced her jaw and brushed her lower lip. “If I could spare ye all the brutality I have seen and given by my own hand…” His voice broke and her heart stuttered.
“What is Uncle Henry so afraid of?”
Emrys sighed against her lips, laughter trailing the end. “Iudicael fears what he cannot control. He knows they are coming to deliver his timely end, knows he cannot fight the others without your help. He fears for your safety but mostly his because he has always been selfish. He lives with his guilt and avoids all pleasures because of it. Morcant is incapable of stopping forces she created. He feared an alliance with her would destroy everything he has preserved. Now he might have no choice in the matter.”
“But he never did anything about it either, did he?” she said. Her heart broke with her own admission but she knew it was true.
“He lacked the courage. You cannot fault a Sidhe that. They are self-preserving by nature, ye know, akin to humans.”
Amie felt trapped, here in the ashen ruins, on stairs which could collapse at any second, surrounded in a double layer of darkness. She couldn’t help but feel she was missing something, that there was more to Emrys than the absence of light. “What are you?” she asked between the slow lingering draw of his lips to hers.
He laughed. “I am the Merlin, bane of the Vale, terror of the four lands. I am chaos and shadows, the last of my people.” She felt the bleeding skin of her thigh stitch back together while she saw a rapid flash of images to accompany his words. She saw battlefields littered with ruined armies an age gone. She felt his vengeance and unending supply of hatred until he nearly forgot what it was he was so angry about. She saw her face from his eyes, a green-eyed, dark-haired beauty, and suddenly everything clicked.
“I am undone because of you, can’t ye see, Nimue?” Pulling away only long enough to breathe, he kissed her and she let him. This time the meshing of their inner nixies was effortless and even more powerful, shooting off sparks to lighten the expanse.
Digging his hand into her hair until it came loose of its ribbon, Emrys tilted her head back to look up at him. His expression was cherishing, tearing her heart to pieces because she knew he would break her.
Stepping, Emrys stepped back, but kept their hands linked. His lips thinned and his eyes flashed when he finally spoke again. “I want you to make your own light. We have met the enemy but ye must be better acquainted with it before we return.”
“And I’m making this…how?”
“You really have to ask?” he said while setting her to her feet.
She could feel the brush of his inner nixy to hers and violet sparks shot from the tips of her fingers.
Of course, it’s as simple as that. Just make some static electricity and let the fire rip.
After a few moments of concentration Amie was staring at the light sphere rotating in her hand, bright silver as her blood. It illuminated the great hall around them, revealed the pride in Emrys’ black orbs, and with a gasp Amie felt the energy flee from her. The ball exploded into a cluster of smaller orbs which danced and settled on forgotten candle wicks and torches.
“It seeks the memory of heat,” Emrys said and Amie rolled her eyes. With a quirk of his brow he
flashed a grin and continued their descent. “Come. Follow my steps and ye shall be safe.”
She would never admit it but this place was eerie. Death and terror laid claim over this part of the house. Amie’s imagination went into overdrive as she took in the dome high above the staircase, panes of clear glass blackened from smoke. Some panes had exploded so the stars shone brightly above and glass crunched beneath Amie’s occasional step. What had this part of the castle been?
As if he heard her thoughts, Emrys said, “During the reign of Oberon’s son Nioginuog, wizards from all the lands came here to learn and teach.”
“It was a school?” Amie squinted at the blackened shelves, trinkets and books hanging off their ends, some amazingly intact. A maniacal grin lit his eyes as he looked at her over his shoulder.
“Of a kind,” he admitted. “Wenderdowne was called a fortress for many reasons. When human sickness claimed the land, the wisest and best of them came to share and learn both our worlds. What they took back with them was not accepted.” He kicked his boot at the rubble at their feet.
Amie stared at the round room, broken-down desks, charts, and inventions to rival Leonardo da Vinci, which had only left skeletons of their presence. There were no unseeing eyes here, nothing lurking in the shadows, waiting for her…waiting. Here, there was only the sad remnant of greatness. Tears filled her eyes.
Emrys stood in front of one of her many silvery lights, ran his hand to hover not even an inch over it in a caress. Amie felt the gooseflesh rise on her arm, as if he were touching her. He eyed her with a smug grin.
Don’t forget yourself again, Wenderdowne, no matter how good of a kisser he may be! He’s still a devil!
Crossing her arms over her chest, she addressed her question to the empty tower. “Who started the fire?”
Silver Hollow Page 19
