by D. D. Miers
She brushed at the tear on my cheek. “Self-doubt is what holds you back, child. You don’t believe you can defeat her. You don’t truly believe you can win. Without belief, without faith, there is only despair.”
“I have no magic.” I covered her hand with my own. “And I’m starting to think that someone made a mistake.”
She shook her head. “There is no mistake. You know it in your heart; you just don’t believe it.”
The figure in the distance moved slightly and Isadora raised her cane into the air, the light from it placing a sparkly blue wall between him and us. “He watches you. Waiting for the right moment.”
“Who?”
She nudged her head in the figure’s direction. The stranger who was blackness and shadow.
“Who is he?”
“You must be careful, Abigail. You must continue to believe. No matter what happens, even if—”
Knocking worked its way into my mind and I turned away from Isadora’s light for a moment. Then she was gone.
My eyes shot open and the heat from the fireplace tickled the bottom of my feet, gentle and comfortable. My head ached worse than a hangover, but the banging continued. I emerged from my bed, hair mussed into a bird’s nest as I stumbled across the room to answer the door.
I snapped it open, sleep still in my eyes.
“What?”
Luca stood in the hall. “You’re wanted downstairs.”
“Seriously?” I frowned and leaned onto the frame for support.
“Yes.”
“Is it even morning yet?” Darkness loomed outside the window. “What time is it?” Without the traditional clocks hanging around and no watch, I found myself in a constant state of confusion when day was blended with night and odd hours.
“Early.”
I shook my head and started to step out of the room when Luca stretched his hand out across the frame and blocked me. “You may want to get dressed.”
I wore a thin white tank and black pajama pants. The fire in my room allowed me to sleep in my usual garb, where my nipples showed through my top, putting on quite a show.
“I’ll grab my robe.”
“No. Get dressed.”
“What does it matter?”
“Rugus is here.”
“The Ogre?”
He nodded. “And he’s brought someone with him.”
“Oh-kay.” I closed the door and dressed quickly, throwing on a sweatshirt and jeans and tying my hair up. One last scrub of my face and teeth and I hurried out the door.
Isadora’s warning was still fresh in my mind as I followed Luca.
Did that really happen? Or was it simply my subconscious reassuring me? Should I tell someone? Hell, what would I even tell them? I saw Isadora and she told me to be careful.
Yeah, no fucking kidding.
I climbed down the stone stairway with soft steps. At this god-awful hour, most of the house and its guests remained in the silence of sleep. We followed the dark halls until I reached the enormous library. Stained glass windows with faces of unknown figures circled the walls and three large iron chandeliers hung from the cathedral-like ceiling.
“Did he bring my sword?” I whispered over Luca’s shoulder
“No.”
“Then why is he here?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he gestured for me to go in front. The vast hearth fireplace crackled and snapped as the flames consumed the logs just added, drawing my attention to the figure beside it. Kieron stood across the room, his hands resting on the chair before him. He didn’t have to say a word for me to know what he wanted. Like a good girl I followed along, mostly because I wanted to get this over with.
I wasn’t fond of Rugus, and I’m pretty certain the feeling was mutual.
Even with my sleep-fogged mind, I wouldn’t have been able to miss him. Shit, a blind person couldn’t have missed him. His seven-foot ogreish frame dwarfed every other man in the room, even though he sat in a chair.
“Rugus,” I said, taking my seat across from him.
He gargled a greeting and I realized exactly who he finally reminded me of—The Hulk.
“I thought I was coming to you.”
“We need to talk.” He leaned onto his knees and gestured for someone I couldn’t see to come near.
“What about?”
He didn’t answer. From the corner of the room, a hooded figure, once cast in shadow, stepped into view. My first thought was, This is him. The man who’d been following me. My stomach tightens anxiously, but it only took seconds to dispel the theory.
Piercing green eyes peeked out before he dropped his hood down. His skin was a blend of white with tinges of blue. A pattern of tattoos marring the side of his hairline and the crest of his ears gave away the telltale sign of what he was.
“You’re Fae.”
“Dark Fae to be exact.” He smiled at me, the wide berth of it more terrifying then friendly. I raised my brow in question to Kieron. From what I understood, Kieron hated the Fae, and yet he now had one in his house.
“I’m aware, Ms. Davenport.” He sighed. “This is a limited visit. Only to confirm a theory.”
“Okay.”
“Abigail.” The Fae took my hand. “My name is Granthom, and your friends here tell me that you’re touched by the Faedus—or at least they think you are. Is that correct?”
“Um, I don’t honestly know.”
“You’ve had dreams, yes? Dreams of a sexual nature?”
God, I hated this part
“Sort of.”
He studied the discomfort in my face and then said, “We’ll need some privacy. I’d like the room please.”
“Why?”
“If you could be open and forthright, I wouldn’t ask.” He sat back. “But clearly, your apprehension is the weight of a guilty conscience. No witnesses, no guilt.”
“Rugus?” Kieron said his name as a question, confirming whether or not he could trust Granthom alone with me.
Rugus’s wide Ogre eyes surveyed us both a moment before he answered. “She’s fine. He wouldn’t do her harm.”
A minute of silence ticked on as Kieron decided his next action. Finally, he squeezed my shoulder, causing a mix of both comfort and confusion. “We’ll be just outside.”
There were three good things that came from my constant workouts. One, my muscles were tighter than a leather bodysuit. Two, I could take a beating. But the third option was best: I’m calmer. It sounded crazy, but all of this working out has made me mentally stronger, able to handle more without panic being my first reaction.
When everyone had abandoned us, Granthom sat back into a lounging position. He looked more like a playful elf than an ominous Dark Fae. “So, Abby,” he picked up a glass of Scotch resting on the side table and downed it. No doubt it was one of Kieron’s expensive bottles and likely his glass. He sat back again and smiled. “So, you’re dreaming of the Faedus.” He shook his head and chuckled. “That’s never a good sign.”
“Yeah, so they tell me.”
Granthom’s green eyes held me firmly as a haze descended on my mind.
I tried to move my body but couldn’t. I mentally thrashed around. This was too much like when that bastard Stevens restrained me while they gave me drugs as “treatments.” Or when the Council acted like a bunch of assholes and took from my mind what my mouth couldn’t give.
“Let me go,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Ssh, Abby,” Granthom leaned forward and stroked my hair. “I give you a gift.”
“No! I don’t want your gift, whatever it is.”
He chuckled with a harsh grunt of amusement.
“That is the correct answer to give to a Fae when they offer a gift. Very well then, there shall be no obligations between us. You can’t blame a Fae for trying, not when we are talking about someone with the potential to wield great power. But I must perform this task.”
“What is that?”
“Discuss the Relic.”
&nb
sp; “You are out of luck. I know nothing about it.”
“You know more than you think, Abigail Davenport. You were born knowing to prepare you for this task.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.
“I would give you this, as you say, no strings attached. The knowledge locked in your own mind.”
“Why would you do this?”
“The Faedus is a great evil. He would use my people to bad ends. If you think a dark elf dangerous, you do not know danger.”
“Everyone here impressed upon me what I do not know, especially danger. You haven’t told me anything that I don’t already know.”
“I think what you do not know is dwarfed by what you do”.
He touched my forehead and it was if a key unlocked a door.
“Tell me, Abigail Davenport what do you see?”
The sun was bright in the garden where many women stood around me. I was small, but very aware. A young woman held me close to her beating heart. It was warm and comforting, and I curled in as close as I could to this loving presence.
“Bring her here,” said another voice. The woman handed me to the other, older one, who held me in her hands.
“She, of the seven, is the strongest.”
“You sure?” said the first woman that held me.
“Yes. Her will is strong. She can withstand the Black Walker.”
I strained to listen to every word. Since I was so young, I didn’t understand. But now I did, and it sent a chill through me. No one called me strong. All my life I’d been told I was weak and defective, but these women were proud of me. And I was only a baby.
“This places her in great danger,” the first woman said with sadness.
“We will make sure she has protection.”
“This doesn’t seem fair. She is only a baby.”
“No, it is not fair. And that we have to take these actions is even less so. That we have to make sure there is not one by six others that can wield the Relic in case of the death of the Relic Keeper is even more outrageous. But Yasinda is that much of a threat.”
“It will make no difference,” said another, “if the Black Walker finds the scroll. Then all she needs to do is to take the Relic and she will rule all.”
“Then the Black Walker cannot know about this little one, or any of the others until one of them possesses the Relic. We’ll make sure of it.”
“Where will she go?
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Abigail,” a voice said shaking me out of my vision. “What did you see? Did you see the Faedus?”
I stared up at Granthom, and the demanding tone of his voice and a lustful need in eyes told me to keep my mouth shut.
“Nothing.” I lied without reservation because what I saw told me that even here in Viehlyn I can trust nothing and certainly not a Dark Fae that I met moments before. “I did not see the Faedus.”
“Your visions do not serve you. You need to go deeper to get stronger, to tap another source to give you answers.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your elhun has not told you?”
A shiver ran down my spine at the need and desperation that edged Granthom’s voice and the thought there was something that Kieron should tell me but hasn’t. But wasn’t that Kieron’s story? He never told me anything.
The door opened suddenly as if the wind blew it and Kieron strode into the room.
Alarm spread on Granthom’s face and he leaned into my ear. “Remember, there are always ways to become stronger.”
“Did you find out anything,” asked Kieron icily.
“No, Summoner.”
“Then move away from her.”
Granthom stood and held up his hands. “I’ve done her no harm.”
“Neither have you helped her. You had license to find out about the Faedus, and that has not happened. Your usefulness ends now." Kieron's eyes turned dark and his muscles bunched as if he prepared to physically eject the Fae from the castle.
Granthom stared back at Kieron in an intense dick-measuring match, but Granthom must have lost because he relaxed and sighed. But the anger he had for Kieron did not dim in his eyes.
"Apologies, Lord Blake," he made a mock bow as he walked past Kieron. Granthom scoffed before he left the room, an act of defiance against the great lord of the Low Valley.
Kieron didn’t move.
When the door closed behind Granthom, Kieron arched an eyebrow at me.
"Really, Ms. Davenport. A dick-measuring contest?"
The bastard had read my mind again.
Chapter Eleven
Whatever Granthom did left me with a pounding headache that leaked through my eyes and I needed relief. I sought my bedroom and shut all the drapes tight. Small tremors ran through my body, and I wondered if Granthom’s mind-bendy thing harmed me in an unknowable way. I’m off-center and anxious just as I felt most days as a child at Gordon House, and the headache was not helping me keep things together.
I tried to remember through the pain where the aspirin was that Reagan gave me. As I pulled open the nightstand drawer. a soft noise in the doorway made me freeze.
“Don’t worry.” Dorian walked slowly in as though trying not to startle my temper. “It’s just me.”
I guess I was supposed to be comforted by that.
“Have you heard of knocking? It’s all the rage where I come from.”
He winced. “Sorry. And I’m sorry about earlier.” He pulled out a chair from the wall, but just to lean his arms on the back, not to sit on. “I should know better than to interfere with you two. I just worry, that’s all.”
“I know,” I told him. “But I’m okay. I can take care of myself. And remember . . . Kieron can’t let any harm come to me.”
A dark shadow flickered over Dorian’s face. “Yes, so he keeps saying. I just . . . I just want you to remember, you can’t count on anyone but yourself to save you. Not even your elhun.”
Part of me flared up in protest, but another part of me nodded smugly.
“I know that,” I replied, softly. “Believe me. I practically have TRUST NO ONE tattooed on the inside of my eyeballs.”
He chuckled. “That might be a bit excessive. But I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself, Abby. I don’t know what I’d do if any harm came to you.”
I set down my glass, formulating a response.
A moment of silence passed between us.
“You know what you need?” he said abruptly, before I could speak. “A night on the town. Out of this stuffy old place. No wonder you’re so keyed up. He’s had you locked away in here like the princess in the tower. It’s time you had some fun.”
“Fun?” I replied, cautiously.
Dorian’s eyes sparkled. “Nothing outrageous. Just a few drinks. You’ve hardly gotten to see the city. Don’t you want to experience the world you’re risking your life to save?”
It was a tempting offer, but if I was being honest with myself, it wasn’t Dorian I wanted to go out with. The same invitation from Kieron, and I’d be salivating like a hungry Labrador. And not just for the obvious reasons. I wanted to see him out of his element, to know the parts of himself that he kept so well hidden. Dorian was, more or less, an open book.
But he was also a friend, and that was something I badly needed right now.
“I really appreciate the offer,” I told him. “But I don’t think I should be running around outside the castle. It’s not safe.”
He smiled. “Nothing’s ever safe, Abby. But you know you’re in good hands with me. Just one drink.”
Kieron was going to be pissed.
“I don’t . . .”
Then I looked at him, and my resolve wavered with his clear, beseeching eyes.
“I guess one drink couldn’t hurt.”
Dorian grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”
It wasn’t like any sort of bar or lounge that I had been to before. I thought Dorian had pulled up at the wrong place when we first
arrived. It was storming out, thunder rumbling in the distance. The lightning flashed, accentuating the dilapidated stone building’s appearance of crumbling walls and a rotting wooden door. It wasn’t the sort of place anyone would actually want to go to. But Dorian grinned at me and gestured toward the door. My jaw dropped as I stepped inside.
Everything, every surface, was made of gemstones. It sparkled in the light of the blue glowing orbs that hovered over metal spikes driven into the walls. Servers walked among low tables where patrons sat on cushions on the floor in the low light, carrying trays with glowing drinks in all shapes and sizes.
“What is this place?” I asked. “It’s like a fairy cave on crack.”
He just gave me a sly grin and asked for a table for two.
We found ourselves at a small table beside a window that overlooked the stormy city. I didn’t think I had seen any windows on the outside, but these were all smooth pieces of crystal, the rain hammering against them.
A goblin in a black robe approached the table, and I flinched for a second.
But Dorian held his attention and ordered a few drinks for us.
“Relax, girl,” he murmured. “Don’t want to give it away that you’re new around here.”
I relaxed, but only a little.
The people around were interesting enough, and I really thought about what Dorian had said.
Don’t you want to experience the world you’re risking your life to save?
The goblin returned with two glasses, one tall and slender, with a shimmering red liquid and the other was like a square martini glass, the color of liquid gold.
Dorian passed the crimson drink to me.
I took a cautious sip of the strange cocktail. It tasted vaguely of cinnamon, and it wasn’t half bad.
“Rather nice, isn’t it?” Dorian winked at the bartender. “I prefer drier stuff, but I have it on good authority that it’s delightful.”
“Pretty good, I have to admit. Definitely not what I was expecting. Which is pretty much par for the course, in this realm.”
“I can’t imagine,” Dorian admitted. “I studied your realm for so long, before I ever went there. I was more than prepared. You’ve just been . . . dropped into it, more or less. After a lifetime of visions, you couldn’t possibly understand. You’re stronger than most of these so-called warriors, Abby.”
