Authors: Sandy Williams
Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Contemporary
The Shadow Reader (11 page)
“No.” I drop my eyes to my injured arm in time to see a pair of blue lightning bolts flash across my skin where the break had been. That’s freaky. Aren’s no longer touching me. The chaos lusters shouldn’t still be there. I rub my hand over my arm as if I can wipe them away.
“I’ve left the
amajur
, the magic, in you,” he says. “It’s still working to mend the fracture. It’ll fade in a few minutes. Where else are you hurt?”
amajur
, the magic, in you,” he says. “It’s still working to mend the fracture. It’ll fade in a few minutes. Where else are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I don’t remember the magic of the king’s healers doing that, but then, I was only half-conscious at the time.
“Where else are you hurt?” Aren demands more forcefully this time.
I hesitate, then say, “My ribs and back.”
His gaze travels down to my shirt. Uh-uh. No way am I taking it off. When he moves toward me, I grab the front hem, holding it down tight. He pauses, then leans behind me to lift the back of the material.
“You may keep your shirt on.”
“Thanks,” I snap, but I let my shirt rise enough for him to slide the back up to my shoulders. His fingers skate lightly down my ribs and then slowly back up, inspecting my injuries. He does the same to my left side even though I’m not hurt there, and I shiver under his touch.
“Not fractured,” he says. “This won’t hurt like mending bone.” He presses his palm against the worst of my bruises and the heat of his magic seeps into me. A blue glow fans out just above my hip and a luster flickers across my bare stomach. No, it doesn’t hurt. It tingles in an unpleasantly pleasant way.
Behind me, Aren breathes deeply. He leans forward. When I feel his breath hot on the back of my neck, I stiffen. I’m a girl, he’s a guy, and we’re alone in this room. He’s ten times stronger than I am. He can do whatever he wants and even if I scream, it’s unlikely anyone will come to my rescue.
“You’re still afraid of me.”
My heart thuds in my chest. I don’t dare look at him. “Shouldn’t I be?”
He takes a long time to respond and when he does, I get the impression he’s choosing his words carefully. “You can’t help us if you’re dead. You won’t want to help us if you’re hurt. Lena and the others don’t understand that.” He moves away.
I smooth down my shirt. “You seem more angry at them than me.”
“Because they know . . .” He stops. “I expected you to try to escape.”
“You did?”
He nods, and the glimmer of a smile appears on his lips. “Why do you think I left so many fae to guard you?”
I shrug—and am relieved when the motion doesn’t hurt. “You’re afraid the sword-master will find me.”
“Ah, yes. The sword-master. I think you would be dismayed to learn the things he’s doing to get you back.”
Unease churns in my stomach, but I don’t move, not until Aren’s laugh startles me.
“You won’t even ask what he’s done? Too afraid to learn something you won’t like?”
My glare does nothing to erase the teasing glint in his eyes. His previous melancholy is gone, the burden lifted from his shoulders, and he’s once again the mirth-filled kidnapper who held me dangling three stories above a concrete pavement.
“Aren?” A fae peeks in from the doorway. He mentions Sethan’s name along with a string of other words I recognize, but I can’t make sense of their order or meaning. Aren responds as he rises off the bed, then he smiles down at me.
“Are you feeling better?” he asks.
He expects me to be grateful, to feel like I owe him. “I was coping before.”
He chuckles. “You’re stubborn to a fault,
nalkin-shom
. I
will
win you over. Eventually.”
nalkin-shom
. I
will
win you over. Eventually.”
The door closes and locks behind him. I’ll never admit it out loud, but his healing does make it difficult to hate him.
SEVEN
S
OMEBODY SHOULD TELL Naito and Kelia to get a room. They might be swinging swords at each other’s heads, but there’s something suggestive about their sparring. They’re both drenched in sweat and their chests heave almost in sync as they stare into each other’s eyes. Kelia’s toying with him. She moves slowly enough for Naito to think he might have a chance, then she coyly ducks or flits back just out of reach. She stays mostly on the defensive, but on the occasions she chooses to attack, her dulled practice sword always scores a hit.
OMEBODY SHOULD TELL Naito and Kelia to get a room. They might be swinging swords at each other’s heads, but there’s something suggestive about their sparring. They’re both drenched in sweat and their chests heave almost in sync as they stare into each other’s eyes. Kelia’s toying with him. She moves slowly enough for Naito to think he might have a chance, then she coyly ducks or flits back just out of reach. She stays mostly on the defensive, but on the occasions she chooses to attack, her dulled practice sword always scores a hit.
The clash of metal on metal rings again across the clearing. Naito manages to block one of Kelia’s offensives. He grins, catches the playful punch she swings, then pulls her into his arms, slanting his mouth over hers. Chaos lusters spark between them.
“Curious?”
I nearly fall off the picnic table when I spin toward Aren.
“What?” I squeak, my heart leaping into my throat. When Aren smiles, my heart stays lodged there. Damn him for being this devilishly attractive and damn him for reappearing now. He vanished a second time after healing my arm four days ago, and I just stopped looking over my shoulder for his return.
“You’re watching Naito and Kelia,” he says. “You want to know how it feels to kiss a fae.”
I know how it feels to kiss a fae. That’s the problem.
“Back to stay this time?” I crane my neck to look up at him when he steps in front of me.
“I’d be happy to satisfy your curiosity.” His grin grows even more mischievous. My stomach somersaults, and I have to fight to keep my expression blank.
“Kill anyone while you were gone?” I ask.
He leans toward me, lowers his voice. “It would be an interesting experiment, don’t you think?”
Unwilling to cower away from him, I keep my back rigidly straight as he eases closer. I try to appear bored, but my heart beats a quick staccato against my chest. I’m not afraid of kissing him. I’m afraid that I’ll like it. In fact, I’m certain the
edarratae
will make me like it, and there’s something downright disturbing about that.
edarratae
will make me like it, and there’s something downright disturbing about that.
Aren’s gaze drops to my mouth. I panic when he begins to close the distance between us. Before his lips touch mine, I raise my hands to shove him away. He laughs and dodges aside.
“I wouldn’t touch you without permission,” he says as he hops up to sit on the table beside me.
What the hell? “You
always
touch me without permission.”
always
touch me without permission.”
“I . . .” He stops, chuckles. “Well, yes. I guess I do.”
A chirpy squeak makes us both look toward the ground. Sosch, the adorable but villainous
kimki
I found curled up in my backpack a week ago, scurries to the picnic table. He stops, lifts his front paws off the ground, and perks his ears forward.
kimki
I found curled up in my backpack a week ago, scurries to the picnic table. He stops, lifts his front paws off the ground, and perks his ears forward.
Aren picks him up, but as soon as he sets him in his lap, Sosch chirps again and stares at me. I keep my arms folded. No way am I letting him near me. He belongs to Aren, and I will not let his nose-crinkling turn me into a vulnerable puddle of goo.
Aren clucks. Apparently, this is all the permission Sosch needs to leap into my lap. He nudges my crossed arms. His nose is soft, damp.
“You’re going to hurt his feelings,” Aren says, reaching into his pocket.
I don’t move until he tosses something to me. I catch the drawstring pouch—
my
drawstring pouch—in the air. The anchor-stones inside grind against one another when I tighten it in my grip.
my
drawstring pouch—in the air. The anchor-stones inside grind against one another when I tighten it in my grip.
“You’re giving this back to me?” He might as well. Without a fae to take me through a gate, the rocks are useless.
“I’ve spent the last two days fissuring to those stones’ locations,” he says, watching Sosch slip under my arm. The
kimki
’s fur feels like silk against my skin. I let the thing stay in my lap, but I don’t pet him.
kimki
’s fur feels like silk against my skin. I let the thing stay in my lap, but I don’t pet him.
Aren’s mouth curves into a slight smile before he refocuses on me. “Most of them were predictable: your home in Texas, several Provincial Gates, and a few of the Realm’s major cities. One took me to a Missing Gate we hadn’t found yet. Useful, that one.”
A chill settles over my skin. I tear my eyes away from Aren and drag my hand over Sosch’s back, making his fur turn silver.
“There’s only one location I couldn’t fissure to.”
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
“I had to find a stone-reader to be sure.” He takes my right hand—
without permission
—uncurls my fingers, and presses a semitransparent rock into my palm. He closes my fingers over it. “She told me where it goes.”
without permission
—uncurls my fingers, and presses a semitransparent rock into my palm. He closes my fingers over it. “She told me where it goes.”
Damn it!
It was stupid to keep it, but I wanted to remember the night Kyol fissured me to the
Sidhe Cabred
. Fae can only enter the Ancestors’ Gardens with the king’s permission; humans aren’t allowed to enter at all. The
Sidhe Cabred
is the closest thing to holy ground in the Realm, and Kyol . . . he wanted to take me there. Because the gardens are located within the silver walls of Corrist, the Realm’s capital, the only way to get me past the heavily guarded entrance was to use a
Sidhe Tol
, a special type of gate that allows fae to fissure into areas protected by silver.
Sidhe Cabred
. Fae can only enter the Ancestors’ Gardens with the king’s permission; humans aren’t allowed to enter at all. The
Sidhe Cabred
is the closest thing to holy ground in the Realm, and Kyol . . . he wanted to take me there. Because the gardens are located within the silver walls of Corrist, the Realm’s capital, the only way to get me past the heavily guarded entrance was to use a
Sidhe Tol
, a special type of gate that allows fae to fissure into areas protected by silver.
It doesn’t hurt fae to come into contact with silver; it simply prohibits them from fissuring wherever the hell they want. The homes of the rich are protected by the metal. So are prisons, military installations, and any place that holds something of value. The Realm’s kings have kept the locations of the few
Sidhe Tol
they’ve found a secret, but since Kyol is Atroth’s sword-master, he knows where they are. He fissured me through one to get me inside the gardens.
Sidhe Tol
they’ve found a secret, but since Kyol is Atroth’s sword-master, he knows where they are. He fissured me through one to get me inside the gardens.
I don’t know if any place on Earth can compete with the beauty of the
Sidhe Cabred
. As Kyol led me down its seldomtrod paths, I felt like I was walking through a paradise, some cross between a rain forest and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Maybe it’s because even without magic sculpting the vegetation, all the trees and plants and flowers were exotic to me. A river cut through the center of the gardens before it crashed over a steep, rocky cliff into a clear pool at the base of Corrist’s northern wall. It’s there where Kyol led me, there where we almost . . .
Sidhe Cabred
. As Kyol led me down its seldomtrod paths, I felt like I was walking through a paradise, some cross between a rain forest and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Maybe it’s because even without magic sculpting the vegetation, all the trees and plants and flowers were exotic to me. A river cut through the center of the gardens before it crashed over a steep, rocky cliff into a clear pool at the base of Corrist’s northern wall. It’s there where Kyol led me, there where we almost . . .
But we didn’t. Again, I was completely willing, and Kyol was so close to breaking, but he held himself back. It wasn’t a surprise. I was used to not crossing that line, used to being satisfied with kisses that stole my breath and
edarratae
that electrified my skin.
edarratae
that electrified my skin.
Beside me, Aren reaches up. With two fingers along my jaw, he turns my face toward him. “You’ve been through a
Sidhe Tol
, McKenzie.”
Sidhe Tol
, McKenzie.”
The evidence is fisted in my hand. I can’t deny it.
“I was blindfolded,” I say.
“I don’t believe you.” He doesn’t remove his hand from my jaw. Instead, he slides it back until his fingers weave through my hair, until his thumb slides over my cheek. “If you tell me where it is, I’ll let you go.”
His touch is too intimate.
Edarratae
flow into me, spiking down my neck and into my chest. I swallow and clench my teeth, trying my damnedest not to enjoy the sensation. I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. He doesn’t look like a killer. The way his hand cradles my head makes me feel safe. I feel like I can trust him. I feel like he . . .
Edarratae
flow into me, spiking down my neck and into my chest. I swallow and clench my teeth, trying my damnedest not to enjoy the sensation. I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. He doesn’t look like a killer. The way his hand cradles my head makes me feel safe. I feel like I can trust him. I feel like he . . .
Son of a—
I shove Sosch into his lap and stand. “That won’t work.”
He keeps the seduction charade up another moment before flecks of silver glitter in his eyes. He sets Sosch on the table. “You can’t blame me for trying, can you?”
“I can. I do.”
He laughs. “Of course you do. I meant what I said, though. Your freedom for the
Sidhe Tol
. A fair exchange, I think, but the offer won’t last long.”
Sidhe Tol
. A fair exchange, I think, but the offer won’t last long.”
“Your offers aren’t worth shit anyway.”
The light leaves his eyes. “You really do hate me, don’t you?”
“Yes!” I turn away, searching for Kelia in hopes that she’s finished sparring with Naito so we can resume my language lessons. Neither of them is in the clearing, though. They must have taken my unspoken advice and found a room.
“Do you not doubt the Court at all?” Aren asks.
I turn back to him and snap, “Not since Brykeld.”
He flinches as if I’ve just taken a swing at him. He recovers quickly, though, steeling his expression. “Brykeld was—”
“An accident?” I demand.
He slowly stands. “I wasn’t there—”
“Liar.”
“—when it was burned,” he finishes, his eyes narrowing. “I wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“Were you there for the rapes, then?”
A muscle twitches beneath his right eye. “No.”
“Convenient!”
Kyol apologized a thousand times for taking me to Brykeld. He said he never would have done so if he knew how bad it was going to be. I had nightmares for weeks afterward. Even now, more than two years later, I sometimes hear the screams. The rebels locked entire families inside shops with silver-painted walls. They boarded up the windows and doors and then set the structures on fire. The Court fae tried to help, but they were occupied fighting the rebels. I did what I could, ignoring the flames to hack at the buildings with a dead fae’s sword. I came away with deep, ugly burns on my hands, arms, and face. It took one of the king’s healers to repair the damage, and I only saved one fae.
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