LOFTIN

Cillian hissed as I entered the lair. As Alistair’s second, he would know where to find Leancan King. He glanced behind me, no doubt waiting for Karis. “Where’s your guard dog?” he snarled.

“Karis is in trouble. I need to talk to Alistair and Finean. Now!” I shoved around him.

Cillian ran behind me into the catacombs and deeper down. “They’re in the mirror room,” he reported, pulling my shoulder when I accidentally ran past it.

I entered the room to see an interesting sight. Alistair was lounging in a red velvet chair while Finean was pinned to the wall by two shadows. He fought vainly against them, wrenching his arms and twisting his body to get free, but he was losing. I raised my brows and the Leancan gave a slight shrug. “Sometimes we need to remember our place.”

“Karis is in trouble,” I blurted. “I need you to take me to Nemain’s castle, Finean.”

“What did you do?” he roared.

“It’s like she’s a completely different person,” I answered evasively. “I don’t know what happened, but it was like… it was like she snapped, and suddenly she was colder and darker than Nemain herself. She’s going there, and while I have no doubt that Karis can win the battle with her mother, she’s reckless. She could get herself killed. We can’t let that happen, Finean. No matter what’s between us.”

Alistair stared at me with a grin on his face. “I’m coming along, too, of course. I wouldn’t miss this for all of Faery.” He commanded the shadows, “Release him.”

They obeyed, and Finean stumbled forward. Walking toward the mirror, Alistair leaned in and whispered, “Glad to see she heeded my warning.”

“She’s not herself,” I answered shortly.

He smiled. “Good.”

Finean clasped my hand, keeping distance between him and Alistair. “She looks exactly like Nemain,” I added. “She glamoured herself before she left. I’m not sure I could tell them apart if they stood beside one another.”

“That poses a problem,” Finean growled.

“That means no one hurts Nemain. It could be Karis,” Alistair warned, focusing on the King of the Court of Reflections.

Instead of responding, Finean led us into the mirror. As we stepped inside, it was like walking through warm water. Finean’s hair floated upward. The farther we traveled, the more nauseous I became. Alistair’s grip was so tight, it felt like he was going to break my hand. He didn’t want Finean to leave him in the space between.

We came to a stop when Finean paused to peer out another mirror, this one larger than any I’d seen. It covered an entire wall. Instinctively, I knew we had arrived at Nemain’s court. I tried to pull away from them both – She needs me! – but neither was having it. Finean shook his head and pointed across the room. In the corner was another smaller, less conspicuous mirror. That was where we’d enter. I nodded, and in a flash, we were behind the small mirror. I was the first to step into the empty room.

A second later, Alistair followed me and slipped around to hide behind the throne that sat upon a stone dais. Finean stayed in the mirror. Hiding there was a good idea. They wouldn’t know he was there until it was too late. He had the element of surprise.

His image rippled and then disappeared, the surface hardening behind us. I assumed our clothes would be wet, but Alistair and I were completely dry. Beside us was a cage, only a few feet high and barely as wide. In it was a boy with brown hair and eyes.

“Iric?” I whispered.

He scooted into the back of the cage as best he could. His leg was wounded; a large, rectangular strip of flesh was gone from it, exposing bloodied muscle. I remembered the Banshee’s grim offering and knew this was where it came from. This sort of wound could kill a human.

Dark tendrils began to stretch out and swirl around the space, like they were made of the Shades themselves. The two women were in the eye of the storm, orbiting one another in a deadly, beautiful dance.

“You dare come here glamoured to look like me?” Nemain roared.

“It is you who look like me!” the other Nemain refuted.

Which one was Karis? Both wore dark gowns of delicate black feathers, but only one wore a smile. That must be Karis. She was having fun tormenting her mother. Alistair watched with a satisfied grin. He knew.

Black feathers danced around the room all around them as Nemain called for her Banshees. Three flew into the room, hovering erratically above the two women. “Attack her!” Nemain screeched.

“Attack her!” Karis echoed, pointing at her mother. The Banshees were confused. They darted back and forth between the women, uncertain whom to attack.

Nemain and Karis circled one another. Karis leveled a glare at the Banshees, and in a flash, turned them back into the Seelie fae they were. She didn’t even have to touch them. The faeries fell to the ground, gasping.

“Keep calling them, Mother. They can’t hurt me. I’m their master. They can’t tell my power from yours.”

“Don’t call me mother,” Nemain seethed.

“But that’s what you are,” Karis purred. “You wanted an heir? Well here I am!” she announced, stretching her arms out wide. “Aren’t you proud?”

“Where have you been?”

“Stop acting like you don’t know. Stupidity isn’t flattering,” Karis tutted.

Nemain muttered something beneath her breath, and what looked like a hundred daggers appeared in the air surrounding Karis. When the Queen slashed her hand forward, their sharp tips tilted toward their target and flew.

Karis laughed, turning them all to ash with a flick of her wrist. Then she grinned. “My turn.”

In her hands, she conjured a ball of light, undulating with streaks of serpentine energy, and launched it at her mother. Upon contact, the streaks wrapped around Nemain and constricted. As I looked closer, I could see that each streak was an Asper, with fangs snapping toward Nemain’s face and skin. Nemain cried out, but let out a burst of dark constrictors that battled Karis’s light. Paired off, they fell away from her, fighting one another.

“I want your heart!” Nemain roared, lunging at Karis and clawing at her chest.

“No, you want my power,” Karis replied in a cold voice, backhanding her mother across the room. She braced, anticipating the moment when Nemain shot heat out of her hand. The air waved and rippled in front of us as we watched.

“Alistair?” I whispered. “Help me with this lock.” I’d promised to help free Iric and get him home safely, and right now, it was something productive I could do. Finean could take him back to Ironton. “I’m trying to help you,” I told Iric. “We can take you home. It’s what Karis wants more than anything.”

“She didn’t even recognize me,” he confided.

“A part of her does, but she isn’t… herself right now.” She literally had no heart. I felt it beating in my chest, reminding me.

Alistair was suddenly beside me. He crushed the iron lock in his hand, the pieces tinkling to the ground. I opened the door. With a metallic whine of the hinges, everything went still.

“Burn me alive,” I cursed, knowing they had been alerted to our presence, but accepting there was nothing to be done for it now. I reached in for Iric and he crawled forward and out of the cage.

“Oh, Loftin?” Alistair drawled.

I waved Iric out. “Go to the mirror,” I instructed. Finean would help him.

“Are you bartering again?” Nemain asked me. “You for the boy? I’m afraid I must decline your offer this time. I simply love listening to his screams,” she said dreamily, watching Karis for a response, her grin falling when she saw none.

Nemain wasn’t going to win this battle of wills. Not with power. But I could see when a new idea sparked. She left Karis and turned her attention to those of us around her.

“What do we have here?” Nemain quipped, suddenly right in front of Alistair. Karis appeared at her side.

“The King of the Leancan,” Nemain cooed. “I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.”

Alistair mouthed the word run and then lunged forward, fangs snapping toward her face. As I hurriedly helped Iric straighten and stand, Karis took in his bloody, dirty form, her eyebrows knitted. And then she dropped her glamour.

“K?” he asked.

“You look familiar…”

“K, it’s me. It’s Iric.”

Her eyes glazed over.