Bittersweet (28 page)

 

 

I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for everything. It was my fault any of us were in this mess to begin with. But I knew apologies were like bandages. They only masked the problem. Hid it from sight. They didn't take them away. Only time could do that. I raced through the cracked grounds of the Winter Court, desperate to find my way back to Zanthiel. The grounds were a maze winding between indoors and out, sometimes with little distinction between the two. A multi-course dinner filled an extended table in the snow outside, while the roots of overgrown trees cracked through the floors inside. I raced through building after building. He was here somewhere in these hallowed halls and I knew if I didn't reach him in time, not even apologies would help us. It was morning, but it might as well have been midnight, due to the darkness that covered their realm. A steady relentless fog of cold cast a chill you could never be free of. I didn't feel it as powerfully as I had the last time I was here. This time, I carried it inside me. Only when I faced Mab's wrath or Zanthiel's displeasure did I notice the plummet in subzero temperatures. I rounded a corner, my breath puffing in the air. I stopped. Two lanky guards stood posted outside of a cell. It was fashioned from iron, guaranteed to hold any faerie in place without the use of magic or any other restraints. That was how powerful and how deadly iron was to them. I had to get him out.

I closed my eyes briefly before I faced them. “You need to let me in here. Right now,” I said. They exchanged a look then smirked at me. “We do not take orders from human halflings. Favors, however, are another matter.” He flashed a devious grin.

“First time for everything,” I said. A surge of energy flowed through me and into them. They flew back several feet, landing against the iron bars. I wanted to gag at the way their skin sizzled and burned on contact, but I forced myself to continue. “I will tie you to these bars unless you agree to help me.” One growled under his breath. I pushed him back until his entire body was tethered to the bars. A painful cry ripped from his throat.

I winced. “Give me the keys, and I will let you go. I promise you.”

The second guard fished into his cloak with his free arm, and handed me a large glowing skeleton key. I nodded my thanks. “I'm sorry,” I said, easing up on the second guard so that only his one arm remained in contact with the iron. “But I have to get free from here with Zanthiel before I release you.” I stepped between them. “Sorry. Oh, and I wouldn't mention this to Mab. You know how quick her son's temper is. And he doesn't take kindly to those who oppose him.” I paused outside the door.
I know the one he's going to be angry with is me
, f
or risking my life to save his. Again.
My fingers trembled slightly as I inserted the key into the rusted lock. Despite the cold, beads of sweat tricked down my back. With a shaky breath, I unlocked the door and stepped into the dungeon.

The key slipped from my fingers to the ground with an echoing clang.

Empty.

There was nothing inside.

I walked deeper into the room, feeling the energy of death press in on me. I was too late. She'd taken him. Was he already dead? I felt certain I'd know if he was, but that did nothing to ease my rising panic. I could still smell the faint scent of him, mingled in the dampness. Fragments of his presence surrounded me in the cold.

I peered into the emptiness. The still air shimmered with magic, and I caught a glimpse of his silvery blond hair glinting in the shadows. For a second I could see the angles of his cheek, the breadth of his shoulders. Then it was gone. I rubbed my fists to my eyes. Had I seen it at all? I had. I knew I had. He was here.

“Zanthiel?” I called out his name. My voice bounced off the frosted walls and echoed back to me. Then I felt it, the subtle chill of his thoughts connecting to mind. A cloaking spell. Queen Mab had hidden him from sight, most likely to hide from me. She knew I'd come for him.

I raised my hands and shut my eyes. Another of Gran's incantations came to me, as though she was there, whispering the words in my ear. “
Obscurité Promptus
.” When I opened my eyes, Zanthiel was there across from me.

Dungeons in Faery were as horrific as the ones in Mythlandria. Except they hadn't bothered to remove the remains of those who'd been held or torched through the years. It was all visible to me now and I wished it wasn't.

He was on his knees on the ground, leashed to the wall with a lengthy chain. Iron ate into the flesh around his throat and wrists. Raw skin peeled away from his metal bonds.

I shuddered but refocused on what I had to do: free him. I lifted my hands, forcing my mind to focus on just the chains. Last thing I wanted to do was to fry him entirely.

“You shouldn't be here. Why would you come here?” he rasped. Fury seethed from every pore, even though he was still far too weak to move.

“You really have to ask that now? I'm trying to get you out of here. Save the lecture until I'm done. I need to concentrate.” It was still so much easier to wield magic through anger than through fear.

Working with the locks, I managed to loosen the chain links enough so they were no longer burning through his flesh.

Zanthiel winced, but held his steely expression.

I extended my hand to help him to his feet.

He stared up at me, ignoring my outstretched hand.

I retracted it slowly. “I had to do it, Zanthiel,” I whispered. “There was no other way. And she would have killed you.”

Something flashed behind his eyes, only for a brief second before they returned to their armored glare. Finally he spoke. “Why would that be a concern for you? I should think that would solve your problem.”

I pulled back. I'm not sure why, but his words cut into me like a razor blade. Hadn't I cursed him to death... wished for him to disappear once and for all at least a thousand times in my life. And yet.... standing here now, the idea that he might think I wouldn't care if he lived or died...it hurt me.

Swallowing the tugging emotions, I fixated on the rusty metal shackles sprawled across the stone floor. I wanted to say so much, but nothing felt right. There was nothing I could say that wouldn't betray the feelings I'd worked so hard to repress. So I shrugged. And turned away to sort through the onslaught of emotions. Only when I heard a low groan did I turn back in time to help him stand. His sides were full of lacerations, as though he'd been whipped by thorn-covered vines. He staggered a little and then fell to his knees.

“Now will you let me help you?” I chastised, holding his shoulders to keep him upright.

His nod was barely perceivable.

Kneeling next to him, I placed my hands on his heart and closed my eyes. I no longer needed to heal using touch, but it was what came naturally, and worked the fastest, as though the energy was more intense with direct contact. It felt good to use my touch to heal without fear of causing pain or death.

Glistening green light swirled around us, filling the room with an effervescent glow. A few seconds later, I opened my eyes, and my heart jumped. Zanthiel's piercing gaze was a mere inches from mine. His full lips parted and I could feel the cool of his steady even breath.

I dropped my hands, and climbed to my feet. “There.” I stood up and dusted my pants as heat flamed my cheeks. “That must feel better.”

Zanthiel stood up and moved toward me. “It does,” he murmured.

He took my hand in his and pulled me to him.

“Zanthiel....” my heartbeat thumped against my ribs, creating a dizzying sensation.

He cupped my face in his cool hands and forced me to look into his eyes. I only squirmed for a moment.

“Lorelei. You shouldn't have done what you did. Not for me. Nor for anyone. The Inner Eye is precious. It's irreplaceable and it is beholden to you. Haven't you learned that giving away pieces of yourself can only lead to...”

He paused, shaking his head slowly.

I sucked in a breath of air and closed my eyes to clear my head. I couldn't think. My thoughts were his thoughts, and it was way too obvious how much he wanted to kiss me. Twisting away, I put some distance between us.

“You risk too much for someone you claim to despise,” he said.

My chest lurched. “I don't despise you, Zanthiel. You know that. You're... we're...”

“Friends,” he finished, still boring into my soul with his mercury stare.

“Yes.” I swallowed again but it did nothing to quench my papery mouth. “Friends.” Was there ever a less appropriate description of what was sparking between us?

“I do not have many friends. You are my first.” He moved toward me.

The door swung open and slammed against the wall. My hand jerked away with a start, knowing who I'd see when I turned around.

“Isn't this charming?” Her voice snaked into the room like a cold fog, clinging to every surface with icy contempt. “I sentence him to death, liberating you of your ties to my son, and you see fit to defy me by setting him free. One cannot help but wonder if there is more between the two of you than you let on,” she rasped. “Witches have long been known for their questionable morals.”

That was rich coming from her.

“But playing my son against the elf prince is a rather lethal game even for one as bent on self-destruction as you are, whelp. To be so reckless as to offer such a powerful charm... in exchange for the life of someone you claim not to love.” A scowl darkened her expression. “Do you think me a fool? What is it that draws you to him? More importantly, you to her? How is it your plaything has become such an addiction? Explain it to me quickly before I make good on my promise of execution.” She extended her hand and a faerie handed over her staff.

I scanned the room, my eyes darting from the queen to her guards to Zanthiel, assessing, calculating, and silently freaking out at the potential turn for the worse. But all the while, the entire time Zanthiel spoke to his mother, his gaze never left me.

“My dear boy. That is all she could ever be. You speak of it as though there were a chance for more. Were it not that I forbade it, there would still be nothing for you with this girl. She is entangled with another. You know of whom I speak. The elf prince shall not easily let her go to another. Least of all you. Let us not speak of this any further. I do forbid it, and so it's a waste of my precious breath to continue such asinine imaginings. It can never be.”

I took a deep breath and spoke up. “What if it could be, Queen Mab?”

She twisted her piercing glare to me.

My knees trembled slightly as I felt the powerful pull of her powers tugging at my mind. I closed my eyelids, unable to fight the powerful memories she was pulling from me. She was older and stronger than Zanthiel at reading my thoughts, and far more invasive. Not an inch of my mind remained closed to her, though I fought hard to keep her out of certain thoughts. By the end I was trembling. My teeth bit down too hard on my lip and the metallic taste of blood stung my tongue. Tiny beads of perspiration trickled down the back of my neck. I hated this. Somehow, it was far more uncomfortable to have her read my thoughts than it had ever been with Adrius or Zanthiel. I couldn't stand her having access to such private things.

When she was through, her wine-stained lips stretched into a dark grimace.

“One kiss and now you believe you love this creature? Preposterous. I will not have it. She has you hexed. Bewitched from your right mind. That is the only reasonable explanation to account for such impudence. Such lusting can only be derived from dark magic. It seeps from her pores, can you not feel it?”

“I would never do that,” I blurted. “I'd never use magic to force someone into loving me.” Venus and I were very different that way.

Mab snarled. “Do not address me unless I have given you permission to do so,” she said. “I am the queen of this court. And you are nothing more than a whelp on the verge of losing her life.” Her cutting glare flicked back to her son. “I cannot allow this. You traipsing across lands following this…” she waved her hand in my direction. “It is madness. I prayed that after you'd taken a taste you would have been satisfied, satiated of such empty hollow carnal delights and moved on to saner tasks. Like serving your mother.”

“You removed me from your court, Mother. I no longer serve you,” Zanthiel replied evenly.

Mab's voice lowered, and grew sickly sweet. “My darling, it was but to show you your love for me. Your loyalty lies within you still. It merely needed a subtle reminder.”

“By way of banning me from my home, and resigning me to live among thieves, shadows and the dead. It is an odd way of demonstrating motherly love.”

“There are many expectations of you. You cannot fulfill your duty with your mind blinded by your heart. This unhealthy obsession has you transfixed, Zanthiel. Can you not see? She has you immobilized.” Her voice grew louder and the rafters latterly shook. “And to what end?”

She looked at me, but I wasn't certain she wanted me to answer, so I remained silent. I studied the chains enclosing Zanthiel's hands and ankles. Could I break them open, dissolve them? What if something went wrong, and I hurt him instead? No, it wasn't the right time. I glanced over at her statuesque guards, their skin blue from decades of cold. Two of them were studying me with a vile mix of curiosity and hunger. One caught my eye and he ran a bloated tongue across his chaffed lips. My stomach turned over.

“I am hers for as long as she requires my assistance. It has always been that way. Fated by prophecy. You know this to be true, Mother.”

He was having trouble speaking and yet his expression held that same icy glare. By looking at him you'd never know what pain he was in. But I knew him on a deeper level. I was beginning to see through his façade, like a smokescreen of glamour, I saw behind the mask. The fear and loathing and the inexplicable suffering as the iron ate into his flesh like acid.