Realm of Mirrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 3) (28 page)

Something terrible in his voice suggested that he’d been through what Reun had.

“And if I do not?” she said.

“Then I will destroy you. And with the backing of my brother, I will take your pathetic throne, and shred every wicked value of your rule.”

“Your brother,” she said flatly. “Who is…”

“Braelan. King of the Summer Court.”

The Queen shivered and closed her eyes. “Very well,” she whispered. “Restore me, and it shall be done.”

“Swear it first. And then I will restore you.”

She sent him a hateful glare. “I should not be surprised that my son is twisted as me.”

“Oh no, Highness. I’m far more twisted than you.” His awful grin returned. “Now—”

“Uriskel, wait,” I said, remembering when I’d asked Taeral if there was any way to cancel his promise. A royal pardon—something he insisted he’d never get. But right now we had the Unseelie Queen doing whatever we wanted. “I want her to pardon Taeral.”

Taeral shot a glare at me. “Gideon, what are you talking about?”

“Your promise to protect me.” I moved toward him. “You don’t need it,” I said. “I already know you’ll do everything you can to keep me safe. And I can’t stand knowing you’ll die if something does go wrong.”

His angry expression melted into something else. “And you claimed not to be noble,” he said roughly. “Very well. But I’ll hold myself to that promise, consequences or not.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why you deserve to be free of it.”

Uriskel cleared his throat. “Are we finished? I’ve a wicked wraith to ruin here, if you’d not mind terribly.”

I grinned. “Ruin away.”

“Thank you.” He turned back to the Queen. “Now, swear it. All of it, including Lord Gideon’s request. And you will speak every one of their names, so there’s no chance of you weaseling out of your promise.”

With a baleful expression, she started talking.

It was a long list.

Daoin watched for a moment, and then gripped Taeral wordlessly and headed for Levoran, who was at least conscious now—but still dead, and fading fast. “My dear friend,” he said heavily. “Let me help you down.”

As he pulled the sword out, Levoran released a bark of air. “Do not be troubled, Lord,” he said as he slid down the stone column. “I cannot feel it.”

“And yet I feel you slipping.” Daoin crouched in front of him. “Let us speak of better times, while we still can.”

Levoran nodded carefully. Somehow, there were tears in his dead eyes.

I looked away and found Taeral approaching Sadie and me. “It seems this promise will take some time,” he said. “I’ve a bit of spark remaining. Why don’t we go and release Reun from his bonds, at the least?”

That sounded like a great idea to me.

C
HAPTER 39

O
utside the Unseelie palace, the moon blazed down on pristine silence. But this time, it didn’t feel threatening.

We made our way to the gate without speaking, all of us whole and recovering—except Levoran. He stumbled along stiffly with Daoin and Taeral on either side of him for support. The binding spell was failing, because his body was in worse shape than before.

And because he’d lost the will to keep it. He’d accomplished what he returned for.

Beyond the gate, we headed for a clearing around a large, leafless tree, just outside the field of blue grass. Father and son settled Levoran at the base of the tree, and he leaned back against it with a sigh.

“I shall miss this realm,” he said softly. “There is no moon where I’m going. But…there are stars. So many of them.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I could spend five lifetimes counting them and not be done with it. And now I’ve more time than that. Eternities of it. So I believe that is what I’ll do…rest, and count the stars.”

Daoin knelt and took his hand. “There are no words, save these,” he said. “
Is féider leis an éirí an bóthar leat
.”

“Aye. And someday far from now, may we meet again upon that road, my friend.” Levoran smiled, and his eyelids drooped down. He struggled to force them open. “DeathSpeaker…Gideon,” he slurred. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to release me.”

I couldn’t speak. Instead I went to him and knelt at his other side, where I finally found the right words. “It would be my honor.”

He nodded, and his eyes fluttered closed again.

I knew it would be easier sending his soul back where it was trying to go, and it was. I laid a hand on his forehead, and his soul flowed into me. Within seconds I felt him in my head—and heard his voice, one last time.

Should you ever need me, Lord Gideon, you’ve but to call. I will always answer.

I smiled. “Thank you,” I said. “But I’ll try to leave you to your rest, and your stars.”

And I released him.

Daoin had insisted on burying Levoran immediately, and alone. No one had tried to stop him when he took hold of the body and vanished with it.

Now the rest of us sat on the ground in a rough circle, letting the tension wear off as we waited for him. At the moment, most of my worry was for Reun. He’d accepted the clothes the Unseelie Queen gave him—winter blue pants and tunic, black boots, and a black coat. But he refused to have the memories of what happened to him erased.

He said he’d lost enough when his wife took the better part of four centuries from him before she died, and he wanted to keep what was left intact.

Still, he hadn’t said a word since we left the palace.

Just when I decided to try talking to him, to make sure he was still in there, Reun stirred and looked around. “Well, I must say I regret missing your victory over Moirehna,” he said. “Tell me…how did you defeat her?”

Uriskel flashed a smile. “With the ace of diamonds.”

“The what, now?”

“Long story,” I said. “Reun, are you sure you’re okay? I mean…” I didn’t want to elaborate. I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through, but I knew it was brutal.

“Aye. At least, I will be.” A distant expression came over him, and a moment later he shook it away. “I am…humbled,” he said. “It’s an experience I’d not want to repeat. But I will not forget. Taking advantage of the powerless—nearly every noble has been guilty of this to some degree, including myself. Now I know exactly how devastating the receiving end can be.” His eyes gleamed briefly with rage. “And I will never engage in such behavior again.”

“Reun. You’ve no need to punish yourself this way,” Taeral said. “You are no longer who you were. You’ve proven that many times over.”

He nodded faintly. “Thank you. That means much to me, after what I’ve done to you,” he said. “But I’ll keep my pain, as you keep yours. And perhaps it will serve us both someday.”

“I can attest that it will,” Uriskel said. “Obviously.”

Sadie smirked. “Two hundred years and a deck of cards, and you can be a badass, too.”

“Aye, perhaps. But you’ll never equal me.”

“Have I mentioned how refreshingly modest you are?” She smiled—but then her gaze focused on something beyond him, in the grassy field, and her face fell. “Oh, shit,” she said. “What is
that?
Please tell me it’s not sprites.”

A primal alert raced through me as I followed her stare and saw the distant cloud of motion rising from the grass. Heading straight for us.

But something was different. The sprites were a gray mass of buzzing malevolence, and this cloud was a riot of colors and whispers and tiny flashes of light. The colors grew brighter as the cloud moved in.

“They’re not sprites,” Uriskel whispered reverently.

Taeral and Reun sat up straighter. “I’ve not seen so many in decades,” Taeral said, in the same awed tone.

“So many what?” I said. “Do they have teeth?”

Reun smiled. “They’ll not harm you.”

My pounding heart eased, and then stopped in breathless wonder as the cloud engulfed us.

Butterflies.

I’d never seen one so big, let alone hundreds. Or maybe thousands. Their wingspans ranged from six inches to a full foot or more, and they were every vivid, brilliant color imaginable—delicate jeweled wings, swirled and spotted with a rainbow of beauty. They fluttered gently, almost curiously around us, alighting for brief seconds on the ground, or a leg, or the top of a head.

I didn’t dare breathe. It was the most incredible sight I’d ever experienced, and I didn’t want it to end.

Sadie lifted a trembling hand, and a butterfly landed on her outstretched fingers. One of the larger ones, with wings of dappled crimson and sun-bright yellow. There was a glowing white spot on its back like a small, cold flame.

She drew her arm in slowly. The butterfly stayed in place, its wings wafting up and down like slow breaths. When it was close to her face, her eyes filled with startled tears. “It’s a person,” she whispered. “The glowing thing. There’s a tiny person riding the butterfly.”

“Aye. They’d be pixies.” Uriskel crooked an arm, and two vibrant purple butterflies with glittering silver-trimmed wings landed there in near-perfect unison. “They sow magic throughout the realms, much as your bees spread pollen.”

My throat clenched in sheer wonder. So there were some beautiful things in Arcadia, after all.

I held a hand out the way Sadie had, and one of the butterflies alit almost instantly. It was big, about a foot and a half from wingtip to wingtip, but it weighed almost nothing. Its wings were sapphire blue and emerald green, each with a coin-sized spot of gold in the top center like blind eyes. The small white flame sat just above the wings.

“Hello, there,” I whispered, drawing the butterfly closer until I could make out the pixie. It
was
a tiny person, about an inch tall, vaguely female and wreathed in flickering light—and with wings of her own. Six slender, teardrop-shaped wings arranged in three pairs. The top two overlapped and curved up, while the lower pair curved down.

The pixie made a musical sound, like chimes on the wind. Suddenly she lifted from her mount and hovered in front of my face. Her wings moved so fast, they seemed to vanish in a blur of light.

She leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.

The spot tingled pleasantly, and I was filled with soothing warmth. With another bright wind chime sound, the pixie flitted away and settled back on the butterfly, taking to the air again.

The rest soon followed, meandering higher until the butterfly cloud gathered as one and veered away, back across the field.

“You are blessed, brother,” Taeral said with a smile. “A pixie’s kiss brings good fortune and long life.”

I figured it was blessing enough, just seeing them. It was a moment I’d never forget.

C
HAPTER 40

D
aoin reappeared in the same place he’d vanished, only without Levoran.

Taeral stood and went to him right away. The rest of us took our time getting up by unspoken consent, giving them a few moments while they embraced without words.

Though he’d lived with us for the past few months, it’d been a long time since Taeral had actually seen his father.

Eventually they came over to the group. Looking at Daoin was disconcerting—I’d only known him as the frail, white-haired version who loved action movies and chocolate milk, and sometimes forgot his own name. This powerful warrior was a stranger to me.