Biting her lip, she watched as he closed his fingers into a formidable fist. The fire still coated his hand, disappearing under the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves. Yet now it rushed to collect inside his hidden palm, no longer a second skin. Instead his fist glowed bright as hot coals and gave off a soft pulsing light. Mesmerized, Amie watched the ember flame turn inward, traveling through his veins until it spread into his face. His hair turned scarlet, his eyes brilliant as white gold.
He flinched when she reached suddenly to cover his hand with hers, eyes widening. In her curiosity and excitement Amie had not noticed her veins already shone through her translucent pale skin, in a manner eerily akin to faerie lights. Tension, which was always an undercurrent between the stable hand and the Lady of the House, thickened like a thundercloud waiting for its first lightning strike. His skin was hot but not unpleasantly so and hers was cool in comparison. Both gasped when a violet wave of visible energy escaped her wrist and washed over them both.
Eyes fluttering shut, Amie could feel the strange presence of his power, of flames and ash, greeting her. It was deep and very ancient, older than what she had felt during her lessons with Emrys. Even if Dearg would not betray his secrets, Amie learned much from this simple touch.
Her emerald eyes met his and she gasped to see the gold tinged with the color of her inner nixy. Several more waves burst from her body to brush over Dearg as he stumbled around her and backed away.
“I—I’m sorry, I can’t…” Uncontrollable sparks emitted from his open fists and fell to the hard-packed dirt beneath her in a dim shower as he turned and fled.
Chapter 35
Beneath the Surface
Underhill surprised her the following morning by waking her up well before dawn, out of breath as she revealed to Amie her summons. “Ye are to come directly to the Master’s Looking Room for breakfast.”
Amie was annoyed when Underhill proceeded to throw a ruffle-laden dress and flouncy petticoats on her person. Yet when she complained, the hobgoblin narrowed her gaze and hissed, “Humor me now, milady. After three days serving her most glorified highness, I am in need of something I actually fancy doing.”
Amie rolled her eyes, but obeyed and promptly rushed to meet her uncle in the Looking Room. Before, Henry had only let her come to him occasionally after her breakfast tray was cleared. So she was intrigued by her summons, even if she wasn’t fully awake yet. She had dreamed of fire again last night, consuming the house, and Dearg’s eyes were the first thing she saw before waking. So this distraction was a welcome change of pace.
Everything was as she remembered, only now the walk to his special place was brighter, the walls and tapestries gleamed golden and happily. When Amie entered the room was not solid white, mirrors reflecting the ivory shades with brilliance, but the dull predawn gray. Henry sat in his usual seat, the silent long-feathered birds watching the glass wall eagerly. She sat beside him without turning her head, inquired with the arch of her brow.
Henry smiled. “The moment you put this on your finger,” he cradled her hand in both of his, ran his fingers over the metalwork, “your eyes were opened. There are two ways of looking at the world for you, Jessamiene. We, of course, may never see the world as humans do. Because you were raised by them you never expected you could see differently. But now that has changed.”
“I don’t think so. Everything looks the same to me.” She tried to hide her uncertainty.
“Do nay lie to me, lass. It’s written all over you. By opening your eyes you’ve allowed the change to take full effect, let it change your blood, your shape even! Surely you’ve noticed your form is not the only thing shifting into its true nature. The House has been transformed from a dusty tomb to a living breathing home again, thanks to ye!”
Amie gaped, at a loss, felt said blood drain from her face as he continued.
“Emrys had to be the one to show you this or ye would never believe it. He understands the workings of the inner nix better than us. If he did as I instructed in my letter, then he taught you to see properly and ye are fighting it. Oh, ye fight it so fiercely, my little phoenix feather! But you can nay run from yourself. Drustan learned that in the end I believe.”
Amie stared out the glass wall with the sort of numbness that came with the realization life was beyond control.
She witnessed the truth of her Uncle’s revelation when the first new colors began to brush across the sky, watched the gold orb slowly peek over the horizon and coat the land with ripples of rusty embers. Nightly frost was melted away with the shimmer of diamonds, like exploding stars, the land mirrored the sky’s bleeding rose and vibrant golden strokes.
The Looking Room soaked in these colors, changed the tint of Amie’s morning dress and the white furniture around them, bounced off the mirrors behind them to reflect tenfold. The beauty brought tears to Amie’s eyes, echoing the sheen in Henry’s gaze when he turned to look at her. Never releasing her hand, he shared with her his secret. His laugh lines disappeared and the human guise melted completely away before her.
His features were obviously inhuman now, sharper and angled into features angelically perfect. His skin, gold as the sun, glowed from within until it was almost translucent. She could see the course of his silver blood rushing excitedly through his veins. His eyes were not simply gray but quicksilver. His hair was not only black but a blend of metallic blues and every color textured its depth.
Because she knew how to recognize it now, Amie could feel his inner nixy bounding wildly off of him and encompassing hers because of their shared blood. She had never in her life felt the power she did then, flushing out of her because it was too hard to contain it. In that moment she was certain he would never abandon her, not like her father had. He would always be here to protect her. And to the little girl who had had every security and comfort ripped away in a single horrible night, this meant everything.
…
At precisely half past ten, she found herself within the forbidden West Wing. With Henry’s spirits high and her curiosity at its highest peak, there was only one realistic option. On the one hand she could weed the answers out of her protector, but knowing Emrys, he would get as much out of the interrogation as she would. The library and the gryphon were a far safer option.
Amie grabbed as many heavy tomes as she could manage without her nixy, marching past Feather with a slightly irritated glance.
His great golden eyes followed her, unblinking, with a smidgeon of humor in their ancient depths. “Need a claw, lassie?” Feather queried with a bird-like tilt of his head.
“No thanks,” Amie grunted and set the books on the table. The gryphon carefully turned another page on its stand, lowering his beak to observe her. Amie pushed her growing stack of duds aside. She knew they were Sidhe, or Seelie, or whatever they called themselves. But after seeing the truth beneath Uncle and the hobgoblin’s glamour, she wanted to know how they all ended up here. Giving up on the different races, she settled for a different approach. Maybe if she was lucky, she would catch something about Xcalibure and learn why it felt so familiar to her. Or at least learn the full story of what happened between her father and Henry.
A History of Wenderdowne was easy enough to find now she instinctively knew the language. Trouble came in the fact there were thirty-six volumes of her family history. She only hoped she could recall Henry’s first lessons well enough to guesstimate the time period she was searching for.
After opening the tenth volume she cursed and murmured, “Why would anyone ever want to know about the Golem Uprising of 1106…whatever those things are?”
Feather’s cough sounded a lot more like a cat choking on a hairball. “Ahem—forgive me, Jessamiene…”
Still, she hid her smile and turned to face him.
“Are you certain you do nay want my help? I am quite the scholar, as they say, for my kind.” He turned his glassy golden orbs to the massive upturned pile in front of her.
Following his gaze, Amie saw his point
. Precious little time was to be had before Underhill or Emrys came hunting her down. Just because they hadn’t discovered her favorite retreat from their influences didn’t mean they wouldn’t.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” she agreed with a laugh and braced herself as the gryphon crawled on all fours across the room. For such a large, winged creature he was surprisingly silent and graceful. In Amie’s half-human mind he was still a beast and she gripped the corner of her table to keep from backing down.
Feather seemed unaffected by this and amazed Amie when, sitting back on his haunches, he lifted his front paws to better settle a pair of spectacles onto his beak. “Now, let’s see here, shall we? What particular event are you searching for?”
Amie hesitated, then answered, “Drustan and Iudicael Wenderdowne.” She ignored Feather’s sharp glance, as if he could already see through to what she wanted to know and disapproved.
Clearing his throat again, he quickly stacked the useless piles to one side, until the three most recent volumes remained. “There are more, but perhaps these shall suffice.”
So absorbed in her discovery, Amie didn’t notice the gryphon slink back to his cushions. She read over several passages detailing events in the Hollow, concerning dragons and golem and gremlins.
Oh my!
Several times the books made reference to one or both of the brothers, but Iudicael was the main protagonist.
Life was simple and mundane it would seem, even in the magical world of the Vale. Most entries detailed matters of the estate or the good deeds the family had done for the hobgoblins. Even though Drustan was the heir, Henry acted as his steward, apparently. Her only question was why? Why did her uncle not take over? Henry was the oldest and apparently the most responsible. Had she not accidentally stumbled upon the Dragon Wars Amie might never have understood.
Her eyes widened as she read, “Of all the dragons Grrathgar was the mightiest, his flame eldest. When he awoke his brethren the earth trembled in terror beneath them. In the Fifth Age, year 104, his hunger stretched beyond our boundary and into the human world. There his brethren struck villages and castles. Man arose in an outraged cry of unity against the beasts. Together they banded to hunt down the last of the eldest race and defeat the dragons once and for all.
“Myrrdin Emrys, the last Tuatha, became man’s champion.”
Amie froze and for some time she wondered if it was wise to read on. Did she want to know more of the Bane of the Vale?
Of course you do, you idgit!
“King Arthur called on his champion to drive back the dragons, yet did not realize doing so would ruin his rule.”
Skipping down further to the good parts, she followed the trail of old ink with her fingertip.
“Only the Laird of Wenderdowne, Drustan the Green, could drive back the champion’s army. Only the Green possessed the power to vanquish the dragons and the golem horde.
“Arthur and his daughter Dameri were spared and given refuge in the Vale as reward, along with a Keep of their own called Xcalibure.”
“Xcalibure…” Amie laughed, shook her head in disbelief. Apparently the human history books had only scratched the surface. Not to mention the fact no one ever took any mention of dragons seriously nowadays. But apparently they had existed and her father was the one who bound them.
But why would Emrys fight against us?
Amie jumped when the library door slammed open with a thunk. Blood rose to her cheeks the moment she caught sight of the intruder. Before she could even duck and hide, his eyes latched onto hers and then to Feather accusingly.
Shoot a monkey!
Emrys shouldn’t have found her so quickly. Her father’s ring burned against her skin the nearer he drew to her.
“What the filsh is this nonsense?” Emrys loudly hissed. From the look on his face it was obvious he was frustrated and maybe even a little frightened about having to face her now. Amie liked this, beneath the growing swell of anger, though she wondered why.
…
The gryphon chuckled meanwhile. “Merlin! ’Bout time you returned. Too much time with hobgoblins is never a good thing, aye?”
Emrys’s mouth worked as though to silence the meddlesome bird, but no sound came out. Every muscle in his body clenched and tensed because she was here.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Why is she here?
“You!” she cried, her tone causing him to flinch so quickly her human eyes would never have been able to catch it. Now she could see as clearly as he and almost as far, he recalled.
To say he was surprised was an understatement. Emrys hated when he couldn’t predict the outcome of every situation. After several centuries’ practice, he had become very good at predicting. Only now, with this child, was he thrown back to the dark ages. And he eyed the old gryphon beside her, hoping the bristhle had not betrayed anything.
How did she know to come here?
The unanswered question hung over him like a dark cloud. Recently, he had begun to think he understood the half-human’s motivation better. Unlike Nimue, she was incapable of hiding her emotions, those emerald eyes of hers betraying too much.
“Jessamiene,” he began and failed, blanched when she leapt to her feet and cleared the room in a blur of skirts and dark hair. And then she was beating him in the chest with her fists, sending little shock sparks of her nixy into him with every jab.
“How did you know to find me here? Were you stalking me again, you perv?”
Lewyon was silent, but his large eyes gleamed with knowing and amusement. Of course they did, Emrys thought, because the featherbrains could see everything.
Meddlesome wing-bat.
He reminded himself that he was a Tuatha, not one of those addlepated human boys she was akin to. Steeling his resolve and pretending to go along with her assumptions, he said, “Oh, I’m certain ye thought ye could just slide by your lessons today without a word to anyone, then?”
Glancing over at Lewyon once more, he wondered if the gryphon had at last compiled the information he needed. After two ages trying to unravel the details of that bothersome curse Oberon put on him, he knew they were close to a solution. And if Lewyon’s suspicions were correct, the little minx before them was the key.
“Don’t start that again! I needed a break today. Since I knew you wouldn’t leave me alone if I asked.” She shoved him with an extra jab, then marched back to Lewyon’s side. Emrys followed, watched her stack her books and clutch them to her chest with amusement.
Interesting…
The look he gave Lewyon was a clear reminder of how precarious a perch the bird was sitting on. Time was running out. Whispers through his network of the fouler residents of Silver Hollow had told him they knew of her existence now. They knew she was more than simply human and intended to use her. Emrys didn’t know how he felt about this, other than his fierce sense of possessiveness over the girl. She was too valuable, too important to him, now he knew her usefulness. Anything beyond this, he tucked carefully beneath layers of violent emotion.
The old gryphon had enough self-preservation to smile beneath his large beak. “Here lass,” he said appraisingly, “take this too for a bit of light reading.”
Emrys was shocked when Amie spontaneously wrapped herself into Lewyon’s feathered chest and pulled quickly away. No one in their right mind would willingly hug a gryphon by the neck, certainly not if they knew the beasts considered humans a delicacy.
“No! Lewyon, do nay encourage her!” Jerking the stack from her hands with ease, he dropped them back onto the table. Grabbing her by the arm, he said, “Come, we’re leaving now.”
At the door she spun so quickly he nearly knocked into her, which would have been a very bad idea.
“Why?”
“Because it’s best if Henry never knows ye were here, and because I’m already in a foul mood.”
Amie shook her head, glaring at him as though she longed to gouge his eyes out. “Not that, stupid. Why did you call Feather Lewyon?”
“Because it’s my name, lass,” the gryphon answered with a purr.
“You could have told me,” she said, in a voice softer than Emrys had ever heard directed at him. For some reason this made him even angrier with the furry bird.
“But I like that you call me Feather, lass. Not one of my kind among the living has called me that since I was a hatchling,” the beast answered.
Emrys turned the worst of his dark looks on his accomplice. Technically, not even the gryphon was supposed to be here, inside the castle. It was only because of Jessamiene that Henry’s defenses were weakened. If they were completely forthright, things in Silver Hollow had been in decline long before her arrival.
“Enough!” he shouted, interrupting their smiles and cushioned words. Emrys was about to be sick. “Iudicael has informed me I am to teach ye the dances before the ball. Let’s not disappoint all of your guests, love.”
“You are going to give me a ballroom lesson?” Amie snorted before falling into a fit of giggles that made his hair stand on end.
Suppressing a shudder, he dragged her out the door and prayed she never asked Iudicael about his supposed instructions.
Chapter 36
Between Light and Darkness
“No! Wrong again,” Emrys hissed when she stumbled and nearly fell into him. Propping her up once more, he began to give her more instruction. They had already wasted precious hours Amie could have been researching with Feather in the library. Going through the ancient dances of the Vale was hardly on her priority list to liven up a dull day.
If Emrys was acting normally, like the typical self-gratifying narcissist he was, then it would have been easier to keep him in that special category of potential enemy. Had he not given her more than enough evidence to prove him worthy of that title? He had left her to die in the woods with no explanation and treated her rudely at every opportunity, almost as if he were punishing her for something she had yet to do. He was always watching, judging her, waiting for some revelation she felt would never come. And when they kissed the other night she had seen too deeply into his emotions for comfort.
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