Vowed (29 page)

I know from some of the lore books I’ve read that changelings were often swapped for human children in years gone by, especially in the nineteenth century before the treaties between human
and Fae. Sometimes it would happen out of spite, when a faerie decided it liked the look of a human child. Or if a child had been born with a specific gift the Fae thought valuable, they’d
take it and leave one of their own. Things never ended well for the Fae child. The human parents would struggle to bring up the changeling left in the place of their own and it has led to a host of
lore about witches and possession. All nasty stuff that the Blackhart family had to deal with, to prevent innocent people from being murdered and killed.

But I’m talking at least a hundred or more years ago. The treaties of goodwill, trade and mutual agreement that Fae and humans renew each year are in place to prevent things like this from
happening in the ‘modern’ age. Although, occasionally, it obviously does. Case in point: Dante.

I want to believe that Dante reacted to the iron because it was cold, but the ugly welt it burned into his skin makes it clear that he is highly allergic to the stuff.

The folklore and mythology app that Kyle’s been working on for me only functions occasionally, given my temperamental phone. But after a few seconds of prodding, it reluctantly opens and I
type in ‘changeling’. It comes up with a lot of facts that I know anyway, except for one thing that I’ve never done in all my time as a Blackhart. I take a breath and square my
shoulders. He reacted to the iron, so I’m not sure how he’ll react to this.

I turn the stove off and check my risotto, which tastes delicious. Dante’s room is now dark and I feel for a light switch next to the bed where I remember seeing a small lamp.
Dante’s hand grips mine in the dark and I let out a gasp.

‘No,’ he rasps. ‘Don’t. I can see you clearly.’

At his touch my magic flares into existence, and I turn my gaze on him where he’s sitting up in the middle of the bed, the duvet pushed to one side. He pulses a rich vibrant red in my
mind’s eye and the air feels thick with unspent magic. I also realize that, instead of being fusty like a sick room, the room smells of wide open spaces, mountains and fresh air.

‘What’s going on, Kit?’ he asks me, his voice ragged and low. ‘I can feel
everything
.’

‘Your magic is waking up,’ I tell him, keeping my own tone low and calm. ‘I think you’re Fae, Dante.’

‘That’s not possible.’

He’s not let go of my arm yet and I make an impatient gesture, breaking the hold. I do not like being pawed by anyone.

‘Can I ask you to do me a favour, Dante?’

‘If I can. I feel very weird right now, Kit.’ My heart breaks at how tired he sounds.

‘I need you to close your eyes until I tell you to open them, then tell me what you can see.’

‘Okay.’

He shuts his eyes and I straighten. I shrug off my outer long-sleeved T-shirt and put it back on, inside out. I feel a weird sensation in the nape of my neck that alerts me to the tiny bit of
glamour I’ve just created by doing this. I keep my own magic steady so that I don’t influence how he sees me. I step away from the bed as silently as I can, and go and stand on the far
side of the room.

‘Open your eyes.’

‘I can’t see you.’ His hands drift up to his eyes in surprise. ‘What have you done?’

‘Look where my voice is.’

My breath catches for a second when I hear him shift on the bed.

‘I can’t see you. I can hear you breathing, but I can’t see you.’

He faces in my general direction and I can see his eyes scanning the wardrobe and windows and curtains. I do monkey faces at him and squint my eyes but he just shakes his head, looking around
the room in confusion.

‘Nope, you’re invisible to me.’

I creep forward, as quietly as possible, and reach out to touch his shoulder. He jerks back in surprise and gives a startled shake of his head.

‘Cut it out. Stop whatever you’re doing.’ There’s a note of panic in his voice. ‘Kit?’

I make sure I stand right in front of him as I take my outer top off.

For a long silent moment he stares at me blankly and I shift uncomfortably, suddenly worried that the glamour’s not dissipated. ‘Can you see me now?’

‘What? How did you do that?’ He clears his throat and touches me with his fingertips only, as if to make sure I’m real, before dropping his hand.

‘An old wives’ tale and something I never thought would work. I turned the outer layer of my clothing inside out and put it back on again. It is said to make you invisible to the
Fae.’

I let that sink in as I walk around the bed and turn on the bedside light. There is no way the poleaxed expression on Dante’s face can be an act. He looks so confused and lost that
I’m tempted to try and hug him. But I hold back because I don’t know what he is and I don’t know if physical contact with me, as egotistical as that sounds, will help him manifest
whatever he is becoming faster.

‘Now what?’ he asks; his voice is flat and miserable. ‘You talk to your family and you send me into the Otherwhere?’

He doesn’t say ‘to meet my fate’ but it’s implied and I have to look away.

‘No. I don’t know.’ I rub my face and worry at my hair. ‘Shit. I don’t know. This is all messed up.’

‘Why am I this sick?’ Dante asks, as he reaches for the glass of water I left there earlier. ‘Am I dying?’

‘No . . . I don’t think so. Does it really feel like you’re dying?’

He grimaces. ‘How would I know? I just feel weak, dizzy, nauseous and shaky and feverish.’

‘Maybe you’ve just got a cold.’

‘Kit. You’ve done two tests to prove that I’m Fae. You basically turned invisible where before I could see you perfectly fine. In the dark, without using night-vision
goggles.’ His tone is wry and I like that he’s being both scared and strangely pragmatic about this.

I sink down onto my haunches and peer at him.

‘We need to talk to your foster parents.’

‘No. This is not something they know about.’

‘Dante, we have to find out how you came to live with them. How old were you?’

‘I remember my life before I went to live there, Kit. There’s nothing weird about how I grew up. I was put into an orphanage as a baby. Then foster care. That’s it.’

‘But how? How did you come to be in the orphanage?’

Dante drops back against his pillows and pushes his hair off his face, pressing the heels of both hands into his eyes. The glass of water hovers in the air next to him, where he let go of it. He
doesn’t seem to realize what he’s done. I take it without comment and put it back on the bedside table.

‘I was left. On the steps of a monastery.’

I open my mouth but close it again. I’ve never heard of that happening, outside of books and movies, so excuse me as I stare at him in disbelief.

‘Where?’ I sit down on the carpet and watch him narrowly. ‘Where was the monastery?’

‘Scotland.’

‘Near the Cairngorms?’

He raises his head to stare at me. ‘How did you know?’

I wave my hand. ‘Weird stuff seems to happen in the Cairngorms. Did whoever left you leave you with anything? A note, a blanket, anything?’

A shiver visibly runs down his spine and he hitches his duvet over his shoulders again, wrapping it around him like a cloak.

‘Yes. They left a ring.’

Heart racing, I lift the small velvet box from Dante’s drawer and carry it back to the bed.

‘Here.’

I give it to him and he takes it like a drowning man reaching for a helping hand. He opens the small box and stares down into it for so long that I wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

‘It’s different now,’ he says, sounding bemused. ‘Bigger than I remember it being.’

I close my eyes at this, my fingers playing with the simple slender gold band around the ring finger on my right hand. I remember putting it on that first time, how the band resized itself to
fit my finger. How complete I felt wearing it.

‘May I see it?’

A reluctant expression moves across his face but then he nods. I sit on the side of the bed and accept the box from Dante. He shifts forward so we’re both sitting on the edge of the
mattress. He brings with him a blast of heat and wild magic that hums uncomfortably against me. I don’t shift away, not yet.

The band is gold but not engraved like mine. Instead I stare into the moonstone face of a lion, with two very bright rubies for eyes. The workmanship is incredible but that’s not what
makes my breath stop in my throat. I stare down at the ring and remember, not so long ago, when I sat in front of a scrying mirror and it spoke to me of a man wearing a moonstone ring carved in the
shape of a lion’s head. The king’s brother Eadric, the usurper who tried to take over the High King of Alba’s throne, wore a ring similar to this.

I look from the ring to Dante and find him watching me closely.

‘You know it?’ he asks me and his tone is urgent. ‘You know whose emblem this is? Whose ring?’

He’s not even stopped speaking yet and I’m already shaking my head. ‘No, I don’t know for sure, but I’ve
heard
this ring described to me. Or one similar,
at least.’

‘Who?’

‘It belonged to Eadric of Alba.’ I draw in a deep breath and hand the ring box back to him.

‘Eadric of Alba.’ He rolls the words around his tongue and a shudder passes through him and he hunches deeper into his duvet. ‘Is that the High King’s . . .
brother?’ Realization dawns on his face. ‘Are you saying I’m related to a traitor to the High King of Alba?’

His agitation makes me uncomfortable and I stand and move towards the doorway.

‘I don’t know, Dante. I don’t know what the ring means. It could be a clever replica. I’ve never seen it myself so I don’t actually know.’ I rub my eyes.
‘Look, I’m hungry. I’ve got some food ready. I know you’re not well yet but have a shower, get dressed and come and eat something.’

I leave him sitting in a pool of light in the middle of his bed with the duvet around him, clasping the ring box, looking as if he’s been punched in the head.

I’m fiddling with my phone, twirling it between my fingers, wondering what to do, when Dante walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing a clean pair of tracksuit bottoms,
warm socks and a soft cotton long-sleeved T-shirt. His hair glistens wetly from his shower and there’s a brightness to his eyes that I’m not sure is from the fever.

‘How’re you feeling?’ I ask him. I turn to the risotto and serve up two large portions.

‘High, I feel high and I can’t stop shivering.’ He sits down at the small breakfast table and he pulls on a soft grey hoodie. ‘Thanks for staying, Kit. It means a lot to
me that you did. You’re a good friend.’

I smile bleakly and don’t admit that I have been arguing with myself for hours about walking to the nearest Tube station and riding the underground home, ringing Jamie and telling him
everything. Then crawling into bed and pretending I know nothing of a young changeling called Dante.

‘Tell me that after you’ve had my risotto,’ I quip, but my smile feels forced.

He pretends not to notice and falls on his plate of food with gusto. He makes appreciative noises and it makes me laugh when he has to sit back halfway through and mop his brow.

‘This is very good.’

‘My nan taught me to make it.’

‘You miss her.’ It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. A small silence falls for a few moments before Dante clears his throat. ‘My foster parents took me in because
they believed everyone should have a family. My mum grew up in a family that fostered children and when doctors told her she couldn’t have her own, they decided to foster. My dad’s
parents were quite old when they had him and he lost them when he was still a teenager. He had a reputation for being wild but then he joined up and the army gave him the stability he needed. When
they discovered they couldn’t have kids of their own, they adopted me. My baby sister was a miracle when she came along a few years later, but then she was taken and then found dead.’
He drew a ragged breath and his voice is now so soft I have to strain to hear it. ‘It broke them and me, Kit. My mum still isn’t over it and I know my dad worries about her all the
time, thinking that she’ll do something stupid. It’s really hard, coming to grips with something like that. A lot of anger, a lot of hate. Things said and done that can’t be taken
back. And now this? For them to know
this
about me? It would send my mother into an institution. I can’t do this to them. They must never know.’

I watch him carefully, touched by his trust in me and drawn in by his incredibly dark eyes.

‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Kit? I don’t care who left me here. I have my family. They made me who I am and I would pretty much do anything for them, to keep them
safe.’

What can I say to that? How do I even tackle something like this? As much as I admire Dante for being loyal to his foster parents, he has to face the fact that he
isn’t human.

‘Why aren’t you talking?’ he asks, prodding my elbow. ‘I don’t like it when you’re this quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet. Also,
your face is all scrunched up and thinky again. Wait, are you going to punch me?’

‘Tempting,’ I snap, edging away from his arm. ‘I’m trying to eat here, okay? Just let me think for a bit. Eat your food.’

He nods, taking a sip from his glass of water. ‘Do you think she knew?’ he asks me after a further few mouthfuls of risotto. He rolls his eyes meaningfully, looking into the shadows.
‘Her.’

I catch on immediately. Like me, he’s reluctant to talk when the shadows are so close. Who knows if Suola has spies nearby who can slip from shadow to shadow and spy on us?

‘I don’t know. Maybe. Possibly.’

‘Wouldn’t she have said something?’

‘Or this could be a test dreamed up by her to see how the Blackharts react when we realize you are a changeling.’

Dante nods as he eats. ‘I’m not really sure. It would imply that she knew who I was all along. Why not just come right out and say it?’

He had a point. But then the Fae are never outright about anything and enjoy the intrigue. I sigh in frustration. ‘I’m wondering if we should keep quiet about what’s
happened,’ I say. ‘Until we’ve solved the case. What do you think?’